Life is always worth living: Part 3.

I’ve been asked the same question multiple times recently, so I thought I’d address it in a more public way. No, it’s not if I’m still tall, because that’s not changing anytime soon. A couple of my friends have asked me on separate occasions if working with seniors makes me depressed.

I guess I can understand why you’d jump to that conclusion if you’ve never worked with seniors. Most people my age have this image in their head from when they were younger of dingy, ill-lit, smelly nursing homes where they had to hug Grandma who smelled like urine and shake Grandpa’s wrinkly hand before drinking small plastic cups of apple juice and listening to them reminisce on ‘the olden days.'

To be fair, I have been in some foul-smelling rooms and I have felt some very fragile, crinkled skin (like the hand pictured above next to mine), and I’m sure I’m more adjusted to those things than the average non-senior care provider because I don't really notice them anymore. As a mid-twenties Millennial, I can’t imagine being 30 years old, much less 90, so it’s difficult to picture my life as an elderly person. However, I can honestly report that I do not feel depressed working with seniors. At all.

I will be honest and admit that I have seen my fair share of depressing situations. Seniors who have lost their memories and are a completely different person, isolated in their thoughts and in the fog of dementia. I’ve seen Grandmas who have been forgotten, and Grandpas who are bitter and determined to be displeased. I’ve talked with seniors who have considered suicide because they don’t feel like their life is worth living anymore. I won’t argue that every senior is happy and has a wonderful situation. However, I’ve seen some who are honestly living their best life, and after a couple years of observation, I know why. It’s because they’re not fighting aging. Let me say that again for the people in the back – they are enjoying being old because they have chosen to enjoy it. That’s it. It’s that simple.

Take Marie*, a sweet, plump gal who lived at the Assisted Living Facility (ALF) that I used to work at. When you picture the quintessential grandma, you’re picturing Marie. She has fully embraced and leaned into being ‘old.’ She has a very comfortable, inviting apartment at the ALF and therefore a lot of visitors, including overnight guests like her grandson and bi-weekly visits from her son who lives only a few miles away. She participates in activities at the ALF, and leads a Catholic bible study that meets twice a week and includes both other ALF residents as well as friends from her church, which she still attends every Sunday. She’s given up driving willingly, and catches rides with friends, on the ALF bus, or through Tri-Met Lift which has special, inexpensive tickets for seniors.

Marie understands that she has limitations, and she’s accepted them. She asks the staff at the ALF for assistance, and when the nurse makes suggestions regarding her health and safety, she listens. She knows the staff and the nurse aren’t trying to be condescending or limiting, but that they’re trying to maintain her quality of life. She accepts that her life looks different now, but that it doesn’t make it any less worth living. When I interact with people like Marie, it gives me hope that I can live a wonderfully long life and make every single year valuable, whether I'm 26 or 106.