EXERCISE FOR THE CHALLENGED

Being the caretaker for an elderly adult can sometimes be very strenuous, especially when your own physical mobility is limited.  It’s like the lame pushing the lame.  The following story was published in Today’s Senior Newsmagazine in July of 2005.  In retrospect, it is funny.

 

 

EXERCISE FOR THE CHALLENGED

            At the table next to ours is a giant game of Chinese checkers, with large fluorescent marbles waiting for gnarled fingers that will move them.  In the corner sits a beach ball, magnified ten times in size, waiting for the sitting circle of seniors who will throw it back and forth.  An armoire houses other games.  There are dominoes and bingo to stimulate memory.  Carpet bowling is for balance and coordination.

            A massive aquarium on one wall is meant to soothe the agitated.  Looming over chairs for the visually impaired is a big screen TV, almost an in-house theater.  An organ and microphones stand beside an unlit fireplace, waiting for when hymns will be sung.  Generically identical wheelchairs and walkers are lined up by the entryway for those needing assistance on a daytrip.

            I am having lunch with my mother at her nursing home.  Because she has a guest, the two of us are seated alone at a table in the lounge, giving us our privacy.  All other residents are in their respective dining rooms.

            We are served a meal of Shake-N-Bake chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and parsleyed carrots.  We each have a glass of water, a glass of juice, and a cup of coffee.  The food is tasty, the coffee excellent.  The dessert tray is pushed up to us by an aide and we are offered strawberry strudel or fresh orange wedges. My mother, the diabetic, chooses strudel and I, the orange wedges.  She says she has no complaints about the food she is served, but can’t remember what she had for breakfast.

            After lunch it is time for me to leave and I ask if she wants to go back to her room or stay in the lounge for afternoon activities.  She decides she would like to go back to her room and nap.

            We have to form a convoy to get us both back to her room.  In front is my walker with my purse in the basket.  Next is my mother in her wheelchair, holding the handles of my walker.  I am in the rear, pushing all the aforementioned.  The going is difficult as we are on carpeting.  I push mightily to keep us going.  By the time we reach her room I am panting and sweating.  She pushes my walker aside and tries to turn her wheelchair around.  She can’t. The brakes are still on.  Her short-term memory loss is hard work for both of us.  I head for home so I can have my own nap.

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By Lisa A. Hatton