A Video to Myself
But Will I Listen to Me?
Being of a certain age, among the more common conversations one encounters is the state of one’s parents (when lucky enough to have them around still). Humans are living longer, but it is not apparent that these additional years of respiration are necessarily accompanied by physical ability or mental acuity. Whether or not dementia and Alzheimer’s are more common these days is unknown to me, but the larger number of older people makes it seem like they are.
Looking at actuarial tables, I am a reasonable bet to live past 90, meaning I have another 34 years or so, God willing. My health is good, and at present I have my mental faculties, although I forget the right word now and again, and while I’ve never been good with names, I seem to be less good with each passing year.
I guess what I’m saying is that I look around and think about the future, and there is a not insignificant chance that I will not always retain these faculties. One of the things I’ve heard from friends as they deal with older parents who are beginning to slip, is just how stubborn they can be when it comes to thinking about options for elder care such as assisted living and nursing homes. So I decided to do something about it, at least when it comes to me.
At 56, I look ahead and I absolutely do not want to be a burden on anyone. Not Catherine, not my girls, not my siblings, no one. If I begin to decline mentally or physically, the thought of other people having to put their lives on hold for me is unacceptable. I’ve had a superb run, I’ve enjoyed more of life’s blessings than most, and if the time comes where I should enter some kind of institutional elder care, I definitely want that to happen.
The thing is though, I’m not old and mentally declining. Will I feel this way in 30 years? When family says, “Hey Bryan, we think you need to go into an assisted living facility”, will I fight it? I don’t now, but I DO know that others—friends of mine—have parents who have done just that. If I am in mental decline, will I trust people around me? Will I be competent to participate in decisions that are for my own good?
Who knows. But you know who I think I MIGHT trust, even if I’m in mental decline? Me. Previous versions of me. That’s why last night, on the first day of the new year, I sat down at my computer and I taped a New Year’s message to myself, something that I hope to do annually. In that message, I talk sense to me. A me who is either in the early stages of dementia, or who is physically disabled—someone who probably has begun to have these tough conversations with the people around him, but who may not either be cooperative or able to cooperate. Assuming that this decline does not occur overnight, I will have a database of many 5 minute videos to myself that are designed to reconnect me with me, so that I might—through whatever fog or emotion—be the person in my 80’s that I’d hoped to be in my 50’s.
Will this work? Who knows. Hopefully, it doesn’t have to and I expire with a full deck of cards. But if I do decline, will I be persuasive to me? Will I be able to even appreciate the idea of what I’m writing about and acting on now? I don’t know. I may very well just waste five minutes on every New Year’s Day. But on the off chance that I can penetrate into the mind that had served me so well but that was now declining—I’ll take the risk and make these videos.
Season’s First Snow?
The interwebs and my text messages are aflutter with the promise of several inches of snow for the Eastern Shore beginning after midnight tonight and going through Monday evening. It was unseasonably warm today, but as I walked over here to my garage office on Sunday evening (1955 hrs) to write this portion, the wind was beginning to blow as the leading edge of the front makes its appearance. I’m hoping things are (as predicted) manageable in the morning, as I have an errand or two to run before the heavy stuff comes down.
My plan is to grab a computer and prop myself up in bed all day, working as I stare out at the cove. Probably have a cat or two join me on the bed. Here’s a view of a previous snow from this spot:
Although I’m not nearly as excited as I was as a child, I’m certainly not immune to the thrill of the first snow. I’ve pre-staged my trusty snow-shovel in order to ensure safe passage for the non-stop stream of packages that come our way. Also, I need a path from the house to my office. Bring it on, snow gods. I’m ready for you.
You rock!
May your wit never dull