Wear it like a badge…if you dare!

The last month or two has been fraught with snow days (means no work or school), quarantines (means no chair yoga in the facility-no nothing in the facility while under isolation orders) and death. Yes, death. Both at work and at home there have been many deaths. It was just enough to come up for air and deal with the day to day and blogging and sharing were last on my list.

But, tis a new year now and things are looking up and I have something to share. Actually, it’s something we all share-it’s a birthday. We’re all born with one and we all treat it differently at different stages of our lives. You can tell everyone ‘it’s just a number’ and sometimes that line flies but other times, say just before your hair appointment to cover ‘the maturity’ on your head or when you hit a certain milestone year, it just doesn’t cut it and the only cutting going down is that of the birthday cake and THAT isn’t even that fun as you bend over to blow out ALL the candles worrying that the angle of your head shows those greys……

Okay, not sure where I was going with that but on with the show. Our age is something we celebrate when we are young. We can’t wait to turn4, 5 and 6. And, it gets more important when we hit 12 and then those scary (to parents) teen years. Of course there’s the huge celebration at 16 with hands on the steering wheel and a little jump in the air when one becomes legally entitled to drink a beer alongside a parent at Swiss Chalet….Yes, I did this with my grandmother and loved the experience. After 21 when we can inherit (but usually the pot is empty at that stage) and 25, where we can rent a car anywhere, it starts to go downhill. 30 looms and the mourning begins and then about 2 years in we get all ‘Oprah’ and say hey, ‘these 30’s are the new 20’s and I am LOVING (said like Oprah) it.’

So, just when we are catching our breath of celebration, the big uh oh 4 0 starts to loom. It just isn’t fair as the entire mourning process starts again…until we realize that the 40’s are the new 30’s (thank God for Oprah). So, imagine how exciting it is to see people wear their age proudly. I see it a lot in the retirement residences I teach at. For example, today my class had to be moved to a smaller space in a busier area as Mr. Walker’s family was having his birthday party in the rec room. His 103 birthday party thank you very much!!!!!! It was standing room only and a very happy ocassion. Mr. Walker barely uses a walker and is sharper than a whip!

Back at class, everyone is chatting about this great achievement and someone walks by as we are talking about being 93. This man was telling me that he has been sitting in the chair I needed to move a bit, for 2 years and that he was 93. Of course I said what I always say, ‘ I know you are 93 Mr. Brown. Who isn’t around here? That is not news!” And then someone strolls up behind us with her walker and says, ‘hell yeah, I’m 93 too’ (okay, she didn’t say hell but you have to admit it would have been funnier said that way). So, then we got talking about age and how we feel and everyone was very proud of their age and the accomplishments that it represented. This is when I realized that we, the young ones, are going about it all the wrong way. It’s all about attitude and how you spin it. The years represent our survival, our joys, our lives. Like a famous lady once said when asked if she would consider plastic surgery for her wrinkles, ‘why would I want to erase my memories?’

Room at The Inn?

Looks like I’m not the only one on the move. Having just survived a move of my own household, I can more than relate to both the stress and feelings of overwhelmingness (okay, I made up that word but I’m allowed as it’s my blog:), as well as to the excitement and moments of giddiness when another box is unpacked and forgetting about the zillion more left as I stop for a coffee or cocktail break.

Anywhoo, one of my fave students, Mr M & M, is on the move. Fortunately he is moving to another residence that I teach at. It’s like a 5 star hotel, this new place. Mr. M & M seems a bit agitated by the move. He has a wee bit of harmless forgetfulness that is more frustrating for him than dangerous and I think that plays a part in his feelings about the move. The place he is leaving is super too. It’s smaller and cozier than the new place which is more like a palace than a place but to Mr. M & M it all just signifies something new and new things are harder when you are older.

I was talking with him about the move a week before it was to happen and he leaned over to me and said, “you know this place costs a lot of money!” I told him I knew that and that if he was going to pay all that money he might as well go to the new palace and pay the same $$ for a new view both inside and out. This made him smile-goal achieved! I also told him he was living the dream of the Jeffersons of the 1970’s sitcom era of ‘moving on up.’ He grinned but I’m not sure if he knew why:)

I love Mr. M & M. He really is a super soul. I will see him tomorrow as I am teaching at his old place and his swanky new one and I am sure he will have lots to say!

All Clear to Land Sir

JC is a fun guy. One of my male yoga students so he stands out a bit. A charmer and someone who has seen a lot of life, he holds a quick wit and humour to this day, even with his dementia. He has harmless dementia symptoms as opposed to harmful ones and like I said earlier, his charm goes a long way.

A few weeks ago he was missing from class and when I followed up the next week he apologized, saying that he went on the outing to the brewery. I told him that I fully understood and wasn’t naive enough to think that my little yoga class could compete with beer-or chocolate for that matter and with that we both smiled.

But wouldn’t you know it, the next outing was to a chocolate factory so I new JC would be awol from yoga once again. So, the reunion this week was extra sweet (no pun intended, honest) and JC sauntered in wearing his trademark black Bass loafers, magnifying glass hung around his neck and big smile finishing the picture.

“So glad you could make it today JC,” I teased. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he teased right back.  Half hour later when our stretching was finished and our Namaste complete, I reminded everyone that I would see them all in two weeks as I would be away the next week.  And this is what made my day-JC says, “Well, when do we meet again?” To which I answered, “In two weeks.” “When and where?” he continued. “Here and same time,” I replied. “Well, I’m going to sit right here and wait for you so that I’m not late again and miss something.” Now if that’s not a dedicated yogi I don’t know what is.

ED. Note: I was able to talk JC into leaving the room as he would eventually get hungry and tired and no one would bring his food to the fitness centre:)

Poet. Didn’t Know It

 The issue of violence in long term care facilities. Sad but true reality in many cases.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/yourview/2007/10/nursing_home_violence.html

I found this at cbc.ca and I thought I would share it. Author unknown

OLDER FOLKS

I saw some older folks today.
They struggled now to get about.
I wondered how they got that way;
But then I didn’t want to shout.

The stride that might have marched to war
Is now a shuffle one foot long.
I see them hoping for one more,
Asking to whom their legs belong.

Some walkers used, others had canes.
It didn’t use to be like this.
They don’t remember all these pains.
What happened to that life of bliss?

Their sight’s not what it used to be.
They can’t go long without a break.
For meals they have just toast and tea.
A greater effort they can’t make.

Barn dances they remember well,
Their friends and cars, events long past.
What day it is they cannot tell,
Their present recalls do not last.

Some have been locked within their mind.
They plead with us to let them out.
It’s not in them to be unkind.
They’re so afraid; that’s why they shout.

If only someone else would care;
They seem to be so all alone.
Their children had no time to spare.
It’s modern ‘life’ that sets this tone.

There was one daughter with her mom.
To her she shouts, “Don’t make a fuss!”
I wished to say, “Respect her some.”
In a few years she will be us.

Gosh Darn It! We DO Give a Damn!

Mrs. R is of strong stock. I have spoken about her before. She grew up on a farm and lived there her entire life until she came to live at ‘The Walk.’ She is confused at times and her type of confusion causes her much grief. She asks where her parents are and insists that they left her where she is and that they don’t know where she is to find her. She becomes afraid. Thinks everyone is forgetting her and leaving her alone. So, yesterday after class she was still sitting while the coordinator and I saw some of the other students back to their suites, all the while assuring her that we were not leaving her and would take her to lunch shortly. She was still agitated and looked at me, all frail and with soulful eyes and said, “nobody gives a darn about me!” I looked right at her and said, “you’re right Mrs. R, we don’t give a darn about you! We give a damn!” She then patted my arm and we both smiled as we headed to the dining room.

You Are My Sunshine

Today started out gray, both weather-wise and heart-wise. The rain came down in sheets and sheets and woke me up extra early. Not something I particularly needed after a 4 day weekend! As I gear up for my day, making lunches, getting the kids going and then heading for my morning latte to go, I think about Katey (see last post) and how I have to go to one client and tell her about Katey, as they no longer live at the same residence and they were friends AND then I have to go to the scene of the sorrow. Such an unexpected sorrow. I have to put on a happy face and teach class. Chin up, shoulders relaxed, eyes wet….hell yeah, we are allowed. Those of us that remember Katey and her silliness and sometimes crankiness (heck, we are ALL entitled to some of that from time to time) were sad today. Actually, the entire place seemed sad and shocked still. From reception to general manager to me, the yoga teacher, we all had heavy hearts-sigh.

My blues were not leaving me anytime soon so I decided to embrace the melancholy of the day. I put in the new Barry Manilow CD and opened the windows a bit and sang along. A smilin’ face with leaky eyes. Sometimes you have to make your own sunshine.

God Rest Your Soul Smilin’ Katey Girl

It is Thanksgiving Day and I am thankful. Thankful for so much and so many….Today we shared drinks and laughs (Sandi would say ’shits and giggles’) with friends before an amazing turkey dinner. We laughed a lot and genuinely enjoyed a meal that took so long to prepare and while we didn’t sit at the table for as long as it took to prepare this magical dinner, it was more than appreciated.

I came home with a full tummy and happy heart. A state of contentment and happiness. Most of the stress gone from the last two weeks. We bought our dream home and had to sell ours real quick and I truly belief that someone above sent just the right people to help us through this experience. Again, i am truly happy and at peace.

And as i said earlier, and then I came home. I decided to check my email one last time before bed and learned that a client had passed away. Katey H was sunshine. She had a twinkle and a humour- a laugh out loud humour. We could not look at each other during class without cracking up. I used to threaten her with yoga detention but really, it was a pleasure to have her in class. She helped those less fortunate and always had a giggle. She had pain like all but she always stayed for class after bingo and offered me and some of the others chocolate. She was awesome. I say she was because I won’t see her at class anymore. Katey H passed away this past Saturday. To say her smile and spirit will be missed is an understatement. Here’s a giggle for you Katey!

Fire! Fire! Pants on Fire! Pour on Water! Pour on Water!

Where do YOU think is one of the worst places to be when there is a fire alarm and subsequently, a fire? Oh, pick me, pick me! I know the answer to that one. It’s not the library or even a crowded subway platform. It’s not the 35th floor of a non-descript office building nor is it the top of the CN Tower.

Rather, it’s on the 3rd floor of a retirement residence in the ’secure’ unit. The secure unit is a locked wing that takes care of mostly elderly people who tend to wander, experience dementia symptoms and alzheimer patients. It takes a lot of patience to work here and I have nothing but praise for those that do. I’m only there for about 45 minutes once a week while others work there day after day, shift after shift doing all sorts of things to care for this special and challenged population with little acknowledgement or thanks in relation to all they do.

That being said, today offered even more challenge than usual. The fire alarm started going off right in the middle of a Barry Manilow song. We had just finished all of our warm-up stretches and our yoga poses and were getting to the beach ball when everything suddenly came to a halt. And just so you are clear, there was no regular panic here. Heck, most didn’t even realize what was going on BUT the residents that did made up for those that didn’t and they were loud and agitated. Mr. Cheese grabbed his jacket and marched down the hall to the family room area where we had gathered (the psw’s and I) and stated that he had it from a reliable source that we were under fire and the he needed to get out. We assured him all was okay and he kept saying he wanted to go somewhere so we directed him to the family room with the others but he would have no part of that. I have to leave he kept saying. But with nowhere to go and a locked door at the end of the hallway, his options were limited. He headed back to his room where he contemplated the window (3rd floor) and then realized he should just stay put.

Meanwhile, down the hall, Mr Cranky D was shrieking and yelling. Mr. Cranky D always shrieks and yells and overall, is very rude and obstinate to everyone unless he is snoozing. Thank God he snoozes a lot. So, he’s yelling and getting real shrill and then we realize he’s waving his razor around. At this point one of the psw’s scurries down to calm him and remove the sharp object.

Back in the family room, a few of my students have left. One, Ms V, takes Miss M by the arm and leads her out. She thanks me for my time and says they may be back again but that they have to get home. Get home together? Are you related I ask? Yes, says Ms V, she’s my daughter. Whatever, Miss M is older than Ms V but at this point I am out of energy and the clock is ticking and I am just looking for my own way out. The alarm finally stops and I make my mad dash for the door, waving and smiling and promising to be back next week. They won’t remember any of this in 10 minutes. Sometimes forgetting is good, no?

You’re only as old as you feel…or, er, um, you look!

Class is finished and everyone is filing out of the room. Except Mrs. Berger. She is new and dressed to the nines. Even if nothing matches I can still tell it’s all expensive stuff. A hello fuschia coloured silk top under a very detailed and embroiled vest made from expensive boiled wool-you know the type. She is also wearing expensive ‘blinders’ aka sunglasses. On her way out she stops and pulls on my sleeve and whispers, I am soooo much younger than all of them. How old are they, she continues, I’m much younger than THEM! She nods her head, agreeing with herself and standing just a wee bit taller. The entire time she is talking I just stand there and smile. I tell her that my oldest student is 99 years old which makes her a very young 85. She smiles and saunters out of the room. She’s got it going on (in her own mind at least).

We all need a nap…and a beer, from time to time!

So it’s Mrs. Sos birthday today-88 years young. I suggested a happy hour in her honour after class and everyone else agreed. So what if one student wasn’t 100% clear on what happy hour is. It’s the vote that counts right?! I mean at the end of the day it’s always 5 pm somewhere in the world. But I digress or should I say, get me back on track. So Mrs. Sos had only been up for 20 minutes before class today. The activity coordinator went to get her, brushed her hair and sent her in. Mrs. Sos grew up on a farm and lived on a farm until she came to live at the residence so while she is slight, petite, a bit frail looking, she comes from rugged farm stock and up until recently held her own quite well. But she is getting tired lately and asked to go lie down 20 minutes into a 30 minute yoga class. Both the activity director and I kept her up with the lure of birthday cake and a special lunch and perhaps some sherry later on (okay the sherry part is my wishful thinking for myself after an extra loooonng day today). It worked and she finished class and headed to lunch. Happy birthday princess.

Mr. M&M lives at the same residence but on the secure unit. Usually he is waiting for me when I arrive. Sometimes he’s been waiting half hour or more. Today he wasn’t so I went to get him. He was in front of the tv when I found him. I asked him if he was coming to yoga and announced with a smile that he was almost late. ‘Well, they aren’t doing anything here and someone died.’ He pointed to the tv on that last statement. ‘Someone died?’ I asked. This was really silly because although the room was full of residents, none of them really knew what we were talking about (and vice versa). Someone yelled something about Mr. Pava something which meant the opera singer. ‘Oh, he died already,’ someone else said. More confused I asked the nurse if someone on the unit died. ‘Not today,’ was her reply. At this point I grabbed Mr. M&M and we scrammed to class.

And finally, as Jack the pilot said during my last class today, ‘no offense but I’d rather be on the brewery tour than here.’ Me too Jack! Me too! Cheers