wayne49 said:
A long walk in the winter, lay down for a long nap.
You die somewhere you want to be.
Have "Do Not Resuscitate" tattooed on your chest.
Beats lying in a bed, attended to by low paid caregivers, until your time is up.
I'm not sure that it's wrong or that it's right. So much of life comes down to the luck of the draw.
Caregiving is a pretty tough job even though it's not paid well or, sometimes, well-esteemed. Except by those that know what it's like, who tend to hold caregivers in the exceptionally high esteem they deserve. It's a very intimate, difficult, and often emotionally draining task. It's necessary day and night, no matter how tired you are, and you can never truly do it well by throwing your weight around or offloading tasks to somebody else, if anybody else could even conceivably want the job -- you have to be there, right here, right now, the very best self you could ever be to a person who has no choice but to rely on you and often may be in no state to appreciate the tremendous thought and sympathy, precise medically-directed care and empathy, and patience to listen and talk and commiserate and hold dear the fears and objections and inabilities to understand that beset the elderly and incapacitated. Indeed, the aggressive nature that comes to the fore when you become someone who has to be "managed" rather than simply live without anyone's input and without any desire for anyone to chip in is a trial for every caregiver and the basis for problems that might keep increasing.
I feel I have written this poorly. So be it. My objective was to share a bit of what it's like on the other side, that of caregivers, and take some of our society's sting for being poorly paid. Some of the poorly paid people are among the most productive you will ever encounter, and easily among the most kind. There are sociopaths making many millions per year on Wall Street, and they are celebrated feverishly and unrelentingly. There are people paid barely a living wage who extend themselves in ways you may not even be able to extend yourselves, no matter your education or supposed refinement, spiritual or otherwise. They do the job; they take the time. They look into the eyes, listen, respond accordingly by marshaling the best of their patience and themselves to make people in tired and stressed and difficult states accept the inequity of life a little bit more instead of going into their lives and their ultimate declines bitter, resentful, raging, fearful, paranoid, aggressive, or feeling simply unloved and not listened to and unnoticed.
The end of your days is an ending, after all. However much that matters to you, there is no way to change it. Ending something can enrage. Disappoint. Spark a reaction, perhaps a consuming one. But thank goodness there are those who might help you in the process. People who truly care and do their best. One day their time will come, and they know it. But in the meantime, they lend their time, their heart, their sympathy and empathy, their mere presence as the clock ticks off its seconds, to you. They know and feel far more than you might think, because no one would take that helper position who did not care. And few who stay in it for long have not had to consider the effect of time's passing on their own friends and loved ones, and wondered what on earth to do, and how to feel, and how to do it better.
I think being attended to by good people who try their best is pretty much the best-case scenario, not the worst. If you raised their pay, that would be great and would attract better people. But people are people and I am not so cynical as to believe most people will not try to do their best in their job or exhibit no care toward others, especially the most incapacitated, lonely, or on their way out. Paid or unpaid, I know that I did not. But I'm not special. People are special, and recognize that in each other. Those who do not, would not tend to become caregivers ... because they just don't care. It's a job that naturally screens itself from bad candidates. Some might slip through, but most wouldn't even want to or try to. Or last long if they did. It's not an easy job in any way.
If you're in a decent place, with decent people, a good foster home(first step before end-stage nursing home or hospice) is a wonderful relief, and better than most people at that stage can take care of themselves. Seriously, don't fear it but look forward to it. At that point you will be better taken care of than you can take care of yourself.
The real horror story? Being left on your own, to your own devices.
As a guardian/conservator, I have some of those stories. Sad to say, the horrors are normal. You simply don't see them as you are wallowing in your own sh*t, misunderstanding, and, sometimes, deluded self-regard and estimation of your own capacity. Because you just don't know anymore. As well as ability, judgment disappears. You can sometimes no longer see what is and what you are, and your own situation.
I think you get the drift.
