Seeing Pat with RQS

 

The weekend came and so did RQS.  We decided to have a quiet weekend together on Friday and Saturday, both days in Marian mode before seeing her cousin and his wife as Mario.  And it was more interesting to me than I would have expected...

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On Friday, I thought I'd reach out to Pat and see if she'd like a couple of visitors this weekend. So we went to Pat's place to visit.  On the way there, we picked up an inexpensive folding chair as a gift, as Pat didn't have enough seating in her place. Once there, Pat and I got into an animated conversation, both of us looking at the world in very different ways.  Let's say that I come to her position from a position of historical advantage, and she came to her position from historical disadvantage - and were still able to be friends after a heated discussion.  If I had her experiences, I might have felt as she does.  But I had my experiences, and see the world from a more optimistic, but pragmatic viewpoint.  (No, I don't want to say much about the conversation, save that I have never been a nurturing person and she has been all of her adult life.)

When we left RQS's place, I found out that my cell phone had dropped out of my handbag and had to return to Pat's place.  Arriving at her place, I met her at the elevator and saw all the people being herded in for dinner.  This cemented what we feel about the "assisted living residence".  It is sucking excess people out of nursing homes, and placing them into a sterile environment where their souls are sucked dry.  Other than the receptionist at the front desk, we could see no one else working at the building.  Meal time is not something that people look forward to there, as the food is bland, institutional, and not nourishing - it meets the barest requirements for food to be fed to the home's residents.  There are no social activities in the place for people to attend, and the residence is totally isolated from the world at large.  Pat feels like a prisoner in the place, and doesn't see any hope for freedom.

Sadly, we're seeing the tip of the iceberg when it comes to warehousing the impoverished aged.  I hope that I won't be spending my final days in a place as sterile and depressing as her place is.