The Medicare Wellness Exam

I was working full time when I turned 65 and became eligible for Medicare (the American health system for seniors).  When I first enrolled in Medicare, I became eligible for an annual "wellness exam" fully paid for by Medicare  I got the first one, then skipped the next couple. 

This year, I decided to get it.

The good news is, I don't have dementia.

The nurse said I scored 100% overall.

But the questions...This was a trip down memory lane and a peak into my future.  And, perhaps, yours.

The reason for this exam is to have a personalized care plan based on your risk factors for various conditions.

The questions the nurse asked brought back the times I was a part time caregiver for my late mother in law.  I remember when they tested her for dementia and other conditions.  Some of the questions were too familiar.

When she had her tests, they asked her if she did her own cooking and housework.  She said "yes". But she could do neither.  She was speaking her truth, though. In the world of her mind she was still fully independent at a time where she needed home health care.

"Have you fallen in the past year?"  My mother in law fell....too many times.

Meanwhile, back in the present, the nurse read down the list of questions mandated by Medicare for this type exam.

"What day of the week is it?"  (I don't know why they ask this; every retired person I know has a problem with this.  As a part timer, I have to know when I report to work and when I don't, so I always know.)

"Do you need help eating, toileting, dressing, bathing?" (but if you do, I pondered later, what then?  Medicare doesn't pay for most home health care and getting the same is a nightmare for every caregiver I know.  And I do know a couple right now.)

"Do you have trouble managing your money or your medication?" Back came the memory of the day my mother in law denied she needed any of her many prescriptions, even when we showed her the bottles with her name on them.

"What year is it?" (My mother in law couldn't handle this one, nor did she know who the President was, given that she watched a news channel most of the day).

"What town are we in?"  With all the doctor visits I had this month I actually had to think about that for a minute.  They are all in different places.

"Write a sentence with a noun and a verb in it." (Don't they know I'm not the best with grammar?)

I passed the three word test, where the nurse tells you three words and you have to remember them a few minutes later.

Then came, for me, the stumper. The nurse said:  "You have a choice between spelling "world" backwards, or counting backwards from 100 by sevens."

"By sevens, is that what you want?", I said, disbelieving.  "Yes", she said.

I chose spelling a word  backwards.  I've always had trouble with spacial concepts and I'm surprised I could do it.  (Later, at home, my spouse, who loves numbers, did the "count backwards by sevens" without any hesitation.  Showoff.)  I did manage "world", to my surprise.

There were, though, the questions they don't ask during this exam.  The answers many in the United States would give are all too familiar.

"Can you afford your prescription medication?"

"If we order tests today, will you be able to afford them?"

"How hard is it for your caregivers to provide care for you, and how many times do people they hire to help out never show up, quit without warning or interview and then ghost your family?"

"Do the programs we are referring you to have a long wait list, not enough funding, or have an income maximum that is just low enough for everyone to be ineligible?"

I can't help thinking back to when I was a caregiver for my mother in law, and ahead to when I will need help, if I live long enough.

Our system is broken.  Ask the woman I know whose mother has dementia and other health issues and needs someone with her 24 hours a day.  Ask the woman trying to take care of her 100 year old father and help out her only sibling, who has a serious and possibly fatal illness?  I know both those people.

There are millions more.

It's nice to have a Medicare wellness exam, but our country must ask itself:  How much longer will we fail our most vulnerable?

The Safety Net Revisited

In 2015, I blogged about the fact that for the first time in many, many years, we would not be having Christmas with relatives in Yonkers, New York.  Earlier that year, due to health and other issues, we had to move my mother in law up to where we live, and about 150 more miles (approximately 241 km) away from those relatives.  

As my regular readers know, my mother in law passed away the day after Thanksgiving, 2018.

At the time I first wrote this blog post in December, 2018, my spouse's last living aunt down in a New York City suburb was getting ready to celebrate her 107th birthday.  She lived with her son, who took care of her.

In December, the son, who was in his early 70's, died suddenly.  We had last seen him at my mother in law's funeral.

Now, my spouse's aunt is gone.  She passed away last year, at the age of 107.

When her younger son died, the son who was living with her, there was a niece  who lived nearby.  She took the aunt in.  She had cared for both her parents years ago.  Her mother died, in her 90's, from injuries suffered in a fall.  Her father took the long road down Dementia Lane.  During that journey, the niece was diagnosed with cancer.  While being treated,  her father's caregivers ended up caring for her, too.

In turn, one of the aides that helped her father (and her) was available for the 107 year old aunt, and became a full time live in aide for the last months of the aunt's life.  Eventually, the aunt was deemed eligible for hospice care, remaining in the niece's home until her death..  But what if that niece hadn't been there?  Or if she (who, herself is a senior citizen) hadn't been able to step up?

The path of a caregiver is a hard one.  The caregiver doesn't take care of him or herself, sometimes with tragic results. 

Late last year, our office of aging reached out to me because I had been unable to attend a "focus group" on what caregivers in our community need.  I never answered that email.  But, instead of answering their questions directly, perhaps I should just describe what is happening around me.  I never did, but now I have another chance.

It scares me.  Our social safety net is fraying.  Will it rip before my spouse and I reach old age?

The Safety Net

In 2015, I blogged about the fact that for the first time in many, many years, we would not be having Christmas with relatives in Yonkers, New York.  Earlier that year, due to health and other issues, we had to move my mother in law up to where we live, and about 150 more miles (approximately 241 km) away from those relatives.  

As my regular readers know, my mother in law passed away the day after Thanksgiving.

At the time I first wrote this blog post in December, 2018, my spouse's last living aunt down in a New York City suburb was getting ready to celebrate her 107th birthday.  She lived with her son, who took care of her.

In December, the son, who was in his early 70's, died suddenly.  We had last seen him at my mother in law's funeral.

Now, my spouse's aunt is gone.  She passed away last week, at the age of 107.

When her younger son died, the son who was living with her, there was a niece  who lived nearby.  She took the aunt in.  She had cared for both her parents years ago.  Her mother died, in her 90's, from injuries suffered in a fall.  Her father took the long road down Dementia Lane.  During that journey, the niece was diagnosed with cancer.  While being treated,  her father's caregivers ended up caring for her, too.

In turn, one of the aides that helped her father (and her) was available for the 107 year old aunt, and became a full time live in aide for the last months of the aunt's life.  Eventually, the aunt was deemed eligible for hospice care.  But what if that niece hadn't been there?  Or if she (who, herself is a senior citizen) hadn't been able to step up?

The path of a caregiver is a hard one.  The caregiver doesn't take care of him or herself, sometimes with tragic results.

Late last year, our office of aging reached out to me because I had been unable to attend a "focus group" on what caregivers in our community need.  I never answered that email.  But, instead of answering their questions directly, perhaps I should just describe what is happening around me.  I never did, but now I have another chance.

It scares me.  Our social safety net is fraying.  Will it rip before my spouse and I reach old age?

Parakeet Curtains

The hospice is a small place, tucked into a neighborhood in a city in Pennsylvania.  Outside the house it must be lovely in the summer, but the trees were bare the day my spouse and I visited, and snow carpeted most of the ground.

There are six rooms, and a kitchen like one you would see in a residence.  There is a place to sign in.  There is someone at the front desk and a buzzer sounds whenever someone enters or leaves.

Her room is named after a color which is also the name of a fruit.  Her window overlooks some of the wooded grounds, but she does not notice.

She sleeps almost all of the time now.  She does not see the couple of pieces of furniture in the room, nor does she see the curtains made lovingly by someone (I suspect) in a bird print - not quite parakeets, but that's what I want to think they are.  I love birds.  I love parakeets.

Her husband, my first cousin, held her hand and whispered that we were here to see her, but she did not awaken.  He had already been there for a couple of hours, and was going to go home soon to make lunch for himself and his adult son (who lives with him). Then, later in the evening, he would go to work.

The cancer had come quickly, leaving her partially paralyzed, and it took him a while to process what was happening.  His wife was given anywhere from a month to 18 months by her doctors.  Sadly, the tumor is growing quickly and now he just takes it one day at a time.

We all knew this visit (we had also seen her about two weeks ago) would be the final one.  There aren't too many days left for this loving, devoted couple.  My cousin is in a bad place right now - besides what is happening with his wife, he also lost his brother, his only sibling, less than a year and a half ago.

He's a man who uses humor and punning to interact with family and friends. On our last visit, his wife was able to talk briefly with us, and they shared some puns.    But when we visited the other day, there were no laughs, no puns.

An hour or so after we left, my cousin texted me. 

His text was simple.  "Thanks for stopping by it means a lot."

I was lost for words. 

I still am.

Bougainvillea, symbol of welcoming visitors

Day 27 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge #blogboost

Caregivers

In 2015, I blogged about the fact that for the first time in many, many years, we would not be having Christmas with relatives in Yonkers, New York.  Earlier that year, due to health and other issues, we had to move my mother in law up here, and about 150 more miles (approximately 241 km) away from those relatives.  And, as my readers know, my mother in law passed away the day after Thanksgiving.

One of the relatives down there will be 107 years old early next year.  She lived with her son, who took care of her.

Yesterday, the son, who was in his early 70's, died suddenly.  We had last seen him at my mother in law's funeral.

Now, he's gone, too.


And at the funeral home, I spoke to one of my husband's cousins, who had cared for her recently deceased husband (dementia) for years, and wrecked her health in the process.

I know so many people who have lost loved ones in the last two or three weeks.  A co worker lost her father. An acquaintance of many years lost his elderly aunt (he helped take care of her), while trying to raise three young children as a single father.

The path of a caregiver is a hard one.  The caregiver doesn't take care of him or herself, sometimes with tragic results.

Recently, our office of aging reached out to me because I had been unable to attend a "focus group" on what caregivers in our community need.  I really need to answer that email.  But, instead of answering their questions directly, perhaps I should just describe what is happening around me.

It scares me, thinking about who else might not survive this winter.

Throwback Wednesday - The Kindness of Others

What follows is a post from 2011. My mother in law was 83 years old when this event happened. And today, we will spend time with my mother in law's family, including some of these same people, mourning her passing but also celebrating her life.

Now that my mother in law is no longer with us a lot of memories have come up.  This is a good one.


As background to this story, my mother in law had a dizzy spell in her house and fell.  She sprained her ankle and bruised herself up badly.  The recovery was going to take a while.  Back then, we lived 150 miles from her.


What happened next?  Panic time. Mom was going to have limited mobility and a long recovery time.  We'd have to cook for her, help clean for her, take care of shopping and transportation needs - from 150 miles away.

 But then, to the rescue...and here is the post from 2011:

There were several sets of guardian angels in my mother in law's life, and yesterday we all converged on my mother in law's house for a BBQ we had promised as a thank you.

Two sets of nieces and nephews, and a single niece, sprung into action to help my mother in law out.  These weren't local people either.  They lived closer than we do, but they still had to drive a bit.  One of the duos sometimes came out more than once a week.  They all had experience with caregiving for their elderly parents (in all cases, since deceased).  They did many things, too many things to mention, to help her recovery and make her everyday life easier.  I learned a lot from the experience.  I know we are going to have many more adventures in our care giving journey.  I know this is only the beginning. 

All of these relatives, and you know who you are, thank you.  You will always have a special place in my heart.

One of the nieces, during this whole process, gave me almost nightly updates on Facebook.  We kept in touch with my mother in law, of course, and visited when we could, and other siblings helped out also.  But we both work, and anyone who has done long distance caregiving knows how difficult it can be.  I know it is only going to get worse.  We've been lucky so far.

In our case, the fact that my mother in law lives with her developmentally disabled son just added to the complications.  That's worth a blog post all by itself.

Thankfully, my mother in law is a lot better now. But time marches on and she is very frustrated at what the aging process has done to her.

Today, the weather cooperated.  My spouse (the family cook) grilled hamburgers, white hots (a type of bockwurst popular in our part of upstate NY), pork tenderloin spiedies (spiedies are another specialty food of our area), and grilled vegetables.  Everyone else brought a covered dish or a dessert.  Two people brought their I-Pads and owning one is very tantalizing.  One of the men brought a remote control helicopter, called a Parrot, which is controlled through an I-Pad.  If I'm up to it, I'll post some pictures of the adventures of the Parrot later this week.

One of the couples brought their daughter. What a smart, well poised cousin my husband has.  This is a young woman who is going to go places.  She pitched right in and did more than her share of the cleanup.

After dinner, my mother in law brought her wedding photo album out for some family memories.

There was a lot of sadness in watching my mother in law age.  She's always been a hard worker, and it is so hard for her to sit down and let other people do the work. She kept herself in shape when younger, but time takes its toll on everyone.  A stroke several years ago didn't help her, either.

And now, in 2018, she's gone, and today, we pay tribute to her.

A Real Life Hero

On the day after the horrific terrorist attack in London, I feel compelled to look for an example of good in humanity.  It didn't take long to find one.

On last night's evening news, they did a feature on the oldest working nurse in the United States. 

Florence "SeeSee" Rigney has been working as a nurse for over 70 years. She started out as a student in 1946.  Now in her 90's (she will turn 92 in May), she has scaled down to working two days a week.  On her work days, she sometimes walks three miles, and can still set up an operating room with good speed.  She no longer works directly with patients.

She even makes coffee for the break room for her co-workers.

She wouldn't have it any other way.  Her zest for life is obvious.

What an inspiration, to make a career out of caring for other people and doing it for so long.  And, if you want to read even more stories of inspiration next month, tune into the Blogging from A to Z Challenge and the posts of a man in India who will be blogging about "real life heroes".

Do you have an inspiring story to share today?

Not Forgetting to Remember

It was still another message on the phone, asking my spouse and me to do something related to the care my spouse and I help to provide for both an elderly and a disabled relative, and my mind wanted to go "pop".  So, I forced myself to step back.

Sometimes, there are just not enough hours in the day for most of us.  But then, there are also flashes of seeing another side of life, a side where we who give care depend on the kindness or effort of others, and sometimes we just don't pay them enough thanks.

Sometimes, we are so harried and forgetful, and we forget to see past ourselves, our own problems, and realize what we have been granted - friendship, support, and kindness.

Today, I want to say "thank you" to some of the people in our lives we could not have made it through the past months without:

The cousin who, seeing how we were struggling with a last minute deadline, switched with someone else at his job, and came by at 7:30 the next morning, with his patient and strong son in tow, to help us out.  We never could have met a deadline without this act of kindness.

My mother in law's neighbor, who has been more of a help than we can ever thank her.

My son.  Your grandmother appreciates everything you did.

The co-workers who gave me support, and listened to a rant or two (or three, or....I'm not saying how many.)

A couple of in laws and their spouses or significant others, and other relatives, for what they did to help us.  It's too long a list to publish.

My spouse, who puts up with my impatient and emotional nature.

A geriatric care manager, who gave us more support than she will ever know.


Staff of a certain ARC chapter, for their years of service to my brother in law "B", who has autism.

Various medical people.  The nurses who do the work and tend to be forgotten, especially.

I know I have missed people in this list.  If I missed you,know that I still appreciated you.

And finally, you, my readers, during this time of me not commenting on their comments, not reading their blogs, being somewhat self-centered at times.  They forgive me for rerunning posts of the past from time to time (to time).  This situation will probably exist for at a while longer, and I appreciate your patience.

Have you ever depended on the support of others?

Falling Friday - Fear

Today, I want to share with you a blog post by a writer and blogger, Amy, who is losing both her vision due to a medical condition called Retinitis pigmentosa (RP). She also has a condition called Usher Syndrome, and is also losing her hearing   She has faced this challenge with her religious faith and with a great sense of humor, but, in this post, she blogs about her elderly mother and her mother's fear of falling.

Amy has increased her mobility with mobility training, but has suffered her share of falls, too.

Amy's mother, who is close in age to my mother in law, has become afraid to go out because of her fear of falling.  She has osteoporosis, too (a condition my mother in law does not have).  Similar to my mother in law though, this woman has children who love her.

Amy tries to find ways to get her mother out and blogs about a successful outing.  Amy has the additional challenge of not being able to drive, and being dependent on others for transit.  But she manages.

In some ways, the experience Amy described reminded me of being in my falls prevention class back in May and June of this year.

We had a vision specialist come and talk to us, and I found that many of the people in my class had Retinitis pigmentosa.  Theirs came on late in life, unlike Amy's, but some were so concerned about falling (everyone in the class, including the instructors, had fallen) that some were prisoners to fear.  Some would not even go out in winter - and our winters here in upstate New York are long and full of ice and snow.

Mobility really matters.  My mother in law has mobility issues due to a stroke and injuries from several falls (and is also recovering from surgery).  Slowly, she is recovering some mobility.  But she has also become comfortable and set in her ways.  Her lift chair, and her TV, have become her friends.

Mobility is something we take for granted until it is gone. 

I hope I can convince my mother in law (with the blessing of her doctor) to go to a falls prevention class similar to the one I took.  And, as for Amy's mother, I hope that other opportunities arise that encourage her Mom to leave the house.

Amy sums it all up:  and if you see yourself or a loved one in her blog, afraid of falling, please seek out help.  Talk to a medical professional.  See if there is a falls prevention program where you or your loved one lives  If you have visual impairments, there is hope, too, as Amy demonstrates in her blog and in her book, Mobility Matters.

As Amy sums up in her post:

Everyone needs to get out sometimes. People need to be refreshed to see their life and themselves in a new way, to know they count. People need to be mobile.

Thanks for the Memories (Or Not)

Did something like this happen to you yesterday?

Yesterday I worked, walked with my spouse, and shared what we had done towards our goal of moving his mother up here closer to us, and caring for her needs, discussed our next trip to go down to her, and tried to problem solve.


I came home, opened up Facebook, and was greeted with a helpful "memory".  It was on top of my wall, and it said "[My name], we care about you and the memories you share here. We thought you'd like to look back at this post from two years ago."  It gave me two options:  share, and see more.


The photo it showed me was harmless in and of itself.  It was a picture I took of country singer Leann Rimes performing at the 2013 Spiedie Fest and Balloon Rally in Binghamton. But there was no Spiedie Fest for me this year.

That's not what bothered me about this, though.  (Well, let's be honest.  It did bother me a little.  It was a gorgeous weekend.  People at work yesterday were raving about how gorgeous it was.  But, as the saying goes, whatever.  I hope to experience more gorgeous weekends in the future, life willing.  Not everyone I know will have that opportunity, and I am fortunate.)

But:  who is to say which memories should be brought up and reshared?  Me? Or Facebook?

So, out of curiosity, I clicked on "see more".

What Facebook is wanting me to give them permission for them to send me notification of memories.  It gave me a sample of my postings onto my wall from "on this day" in 2014, and 2010.

No thank you.

Facebook only does things to make money.  This is a capitalist country, so nothing wrong with that, but they are not going to make money off helping me remember.

You know, Facebook, my mind does a good job of this, thank you very much.  I spent some 45 years without the Internet and I haven't forgotten how to remember.  If I want to remember, I can go out to my friend's timelines.  Or mine.  Or take out some old photos. 

There may be good uses for this feature- perhaps it will help families whose members struggle with dementia, for example.  Right now, thankfully, we are not one of them.

But...there is something about this I am not comfortable with.

I am not putting Facebook in charge of my memories so they can somehow make money off of it.

What do you think?

To Everything There is a Season

The only thing certain about life, besides death, is change.

Today, the year is half over (approximately).  It seems like only yesterday that it was New Years Eve.  Things seemed a lot more certain than they do now in my life.

Only yesterday, the freezing winds were blowing and snow covered everything here in upstate New York.  Now, roses bloom.  It is raining - again.  Things are so out of balance, with rain desperately needed on the other end of our North American continent.

To everything there is a season.  And to several people in my life, great changes are coming in this season of their lives.  Change is coming to my life, and the life of my spouse, too.  I will blog more about this as time permits..

Today, I end two blog challenges.  Next month I will not participate in any blog challenge.  I will participate in Camp NaNoWriMo, but I've set a low goal and it will basically be a diary of my July.

For my readers, there will also be some changes.  I still intend to post daily but July's blog posts will consist of a mix of "throwbacks", new posts, and whatever I have time for.

One reader suggested I tell stories about my childhood growing up in the Bronx, and perhaps I will pull some stories out from a rough first draft of a memoir I worked on a couple of years ago.

To everything there is a season.  I am a writer and this will not stop me from writer (she said, bravely).

What will the second half of the year bring?

Have you had any surprises in your life (good or bad) this year?

Falling Friday - The Other Part of Mid Life

I've been invited to participate in a meme called "What She Said" created by Kimberly Montgomery at Fifty Jewels. I'm told not to be politically correct, to tell it like it is, and so forth.

She says "This is not your grandmother's midlife."  Well, that's true.  One of my grandmothers never made it to age 50.

So, Kimberly, thank you for the invite, and I am going to tell you about my life right now.  Yes, I have an empty nest.  Yes, life is good.  But, in this season, much of my life is not my own.

You asked me for a quote.  So here goes.

"I am a long distance caregiver to a mother in law in her upper 80's.  If there is a "Mid Life Boulevard", caregivers live on the side streets, mainly forgotten by all those liberated from their nests, and enjoying substances and acts I can not mention in a family type blog (although those acts create families).  Yet, we are essential.  Like our grandmothers, we care for those of the generation above ours.  And, when it is our turn, we hope our children (or friends, if we are childless) take care of us."

Sometimes it can be a real drag.

It's 9:30 pm, and the load of laundry I started earlier is still drying. I worked at a full time job today (my spouse worked, too),  exercised, participated in some phone calls with in -law family members (and a visit from another inlaw) and packed so I could travel with my spouse to my mother in law, some three hours away.  She had a procedure today and the person who cared for her has to leave tomorrow afternoon.  We're down there to help out, and, at the same time, to help my mother in law downsize and eventually move to be near us.

There is so much to do, so many moving pieces, I have a spreadsheet (started by a co worker, thank you!) devoted to keeping it all together.  

Tomorrow, my spouse and I both work, and then, we are on the road.  While we are, I hope the swelling in my spouse's knee (injured during other helping out) stays down.

Now (bear with me) I am going to change the subject slightly.

In the past three weeks, three people in my life fell.

One fall came from a by product of radiation treatment.  My good friend of 52 years, in her third year of battling cancer. 
One was a friend, also in her 60s.  In a rush, she tripped over an obstacle in a parking lot. She is a caregiver for her sick sister.

But the third fall happened to my mother in law.  It is fortunate my spouse and I were in the house when she became disoriented in a dark living room and fell.

I've been taking a fall prevention class the past six weeks.  I've learned about falling, how to help after a fall, factors that influence falls, and so much more.  So I'm an expert, right?

Nope.

Some help I was at first.  For the first few seconds after hearing her calls for help, I went totally blank, before some of my teachings started coming back to me.  But I did recover enough to remember some of what I needed to know.

And you know what?  It didn't work the way I thought it would. 

Not because the teaching was flawed.  It wasn't. But the person who fell, due to physical limitations, couldn't do what the teachings asked for.

That's OK.  I am in the process of learning more in case this ever happens again.  Besides what I've learned, there is an online resource called Caregiver College I am finding of help.

I was so grateful to the two lovely ladies who run my falls prevention class, and the two physical therapists who have attended several sessions.

Also, there is a free download online of a brochure from Australia. (see page 24-26 if you download it.)  I don't know if this brochure is related to the falling program I am taking, but I do know this falling program originated in Australia.

Again, I am not a health care professional but a layperson trying to prevent myself from falling again, and learning what I can since I am a caregiver for an elderly person.

So that is my current journey through midlife.  You're welcome.  I hope I'm coherent, because it's been a long day, and tomorrow I won't have time to write this post.

If you came here to find out how much fun it is to be a liberated 62 year old, you are in the wrong place.  But if you came here for a slice of my life with its joys and flaws- welcome.

Never Let Us Go

A book I read several months ago haunts me.

I don't make it a habit to write book reviews.  In fact, Goodread's nagging me to write reviews has caused me to (almost) abandon the site.  But today, I want to blog about a book that will never let me go.

This book is a book some call science fiction, and some dystopian.  It was written by a  mainstream author, Kazuo Ishiguro.  It's called Never Let Me Go.  (You may know Ishiguro better for another book, The Remains of the Day.)

Never Let Me Go was made into a movie in 2010, and this is the trailer.  The late Roger Ebert gave it four stars and a big "thumbs up", but his review definitely deserves a Spoiler Alert. (Full disclosure: I have not yet seen the movie. I actually took it out of the library last week, but didn't have the time to see it. So back it went.)


The plot:  students at a mysterious English boarding school in an "alternate" England find out the reason why they are so special.  (And now, the spoiler alert. If you want to read this book and haven't, read no further.)  If you are still with me:

They are clones, created for the sole purpose of being organ donors.  They won't live that long into adulthood, as they will be harvested for their organs and eventually "complete", or suffer brain death.

But before they become donors, the young adult clones must become carers - nurses for the clones older than them, clones who are already in the organ donor system. The system is this:  First you are a carer.  Then you receive your letter (from the government?) and must report to become a donor.  You live in a donation center for the rest of your life.

The donor doesn't die right away, depending on the organ taken.  Some die after the first donation.  Some die after the second.  More die after the third.

But none of them survive the fourth donation.  No later than the fourth donation, they complete.  And whether that is really the end of their suffering, or if there is some consciousness that remains during  what comes after, none of the clones know.

Meanwhile, the carer clones see the entire process close up- the pain the donation surgeries cause, the crippling, the mental and physical agony. They see the suffering of their patients as they recover from each donation surgery.  The carers must care for the donors until they themselves are called to end their careers as carers and begin donating.  Sooner or later every clone is called to donate.  There is no escape - but is there a way to delay the inevitable?

There is a rumor among the clones that you can be "deferred" (have your donation time deferred) if you fall really, and truly, in love.  But is it true, or only a terrible myth?

The book is partially about three clones who grow up together at the mysterious boarding school, and become friends, finally seeking out one of their former teachers to find out if the rumor of deferral is really true.  (I won't reveal that end, sorry.)

And the most horrifying part is:  no one fights the system.  No one tries to escape.  The clones suffer, but they show up for their donations in the end.  And then they donate, and they finally complete.

The end.

I am in my early 60's and a caregiver for an inlaw in her mid 80's.  And all through this book, I kept thinking about the parallels between carers and caregivers.

Carers. and Caregivers, in our world, go hand in hand.  Caregivers first watch as their parents and in laws age and eventually die at the end.  We know that one day, it will be our turn, as we are cared for in turn.

We have no choice. We must age.  We eventually lose our health. We become frail, no matter how much we exercise, or eat right, or take care of ourselves.

And then we complete.  Some in our 70's, some in our 80's, some in our 90's, and the rest of us in our 100's.  Every one of us.  No exceptions.

Our coping with this fact is a function of religion, or spirituality, or philosophy.  But, whatever your beliefs, we can not escape.  There is no deferral.

I found this a book that speaks to me.  It speaks to me again, and again.

I love books like that.

Do you have a book that has spoken to you in a special way?

Laughing Back at Life

This has been an interesting week in many ways.  

This post is dedicated to a friend  and a fan of this blog, and she knows who she is. 

If you will excuse the expression, she is in the midst of kicking a$$ and taking names (an "urban" expression here in the States).  And she's doing that today, so she doesn't want to hear any of my whining about life in general.

For that, I am grateful.  This will not be a whining post. (or a wine post, although I should do one soon.)

I am grateful, daily, for the fact that she has been my friend for 51 years.  Yes, someone has put up with me all that time.  That's important for someone like me who is an only child.

And now, she will have to put up with me some more.  I'm confident that she will be putting up with me for years to come.  Despite that foe that begins with the letter "C".

What this week has shown me, as life has shown me so many times, is that life is not a straight line.  No, it is a crooked line, meandering here and there.  As you age, you have to understand that if you can make plans all you want, but sometimes life laughs at those plans.

Mannequin Lamp, MacKenzie Childs, Aurora, NY

So we have to laugh back at life.

I thought this lamp (yes, it is a lamp) I saw at one of my stops on Wednesday was "you", dear friend.  That's because you, like this lamp, are one of a kind.

You have style.

You have class.

And you're a little strange, but in a good way.  Just like this lamp.

I guess we deserve each other, because I'm strange, too.  As long as you will have me, and the post office doesn't lose my cards to you, I want to dance through life with you with a lampshade on my head.

So there.

Thank you for being my friend.