I sometimes question the insistence of our society that medicine be used to prolong life at all costs, even past the point when the individual is miserable all the time. 100 years ago these people you describe would very likely have passed before their lives became a daily hell. Of course we all want our loved ones with us to the last possible second, adn when it's MY grandma I can't think dispassionately, but we as a society need to look at quality of life as well as quantity. What good is an extra five years if those five years are spent in constant pain and disorientation, not knowing who the people around you are, not recognizing loved ones, just frightened and in pain. I just don't know.
The staff at the home where my Grandmother lived kept her alive for over 10 years. Perhaps there was some enjoyment in the first two. I think she did get out to my cousin's wedding at some point, but that wasn't far in. It is unfortunate that any recent attempts to even discuss this have turned into "[insert political party here] wants to have death panels so they can kill grandma". We keep people breathing, but we do not provide them life.
I do not disagree with either of you, but... the sad fact is that only the middle example is someone who was kept alive by even remotely extraordinary means (and still, she lived at home, not in a nursing home). The man is otherwise physically doing ok considering his age, and the woman is more a victim of mental than physical infirmity. I don't know if the problem is my perspective - that the elderly hide their ills from children - or that things have really changed so much.
I think Old age, much like the rest of life, varies from person to person. My one grandmom lost her sight, but had an enjoyable and active life up until right before she died... at 94.
My other grandmom, who will turn 94 next month can see, but can't remember much. Her quality of life is crappy. She's never been social, so she sits in her room all day long.
Old age is catching up to my dad much faster than my mom--he has Parkinson's and a bad back (bad combo). Both are 70.
I've watched my dad go from someone who could run miles without a thought to someone who can't walk very far and for whom simple tasks like buttoning a shirt takes forever. He, who used to be the most stoic person in my family, gets panic attacks now.
Mom, however, helped me garden and haul plants about my back yard. Sure, she's got her aches and pains, but she has her wits, her sight, and pretty much normal body motion.
The old age of your childhood might not be unreal... it just may not be what you're seeing in the loved ones you see now.
Children have the power (okay, other people's children) to show us an honest and unvarnished response to stimuli.
When a child comes to us with a shiny thing or when we can share a skill or an experience with a child we gain a bit of our own youth back and the memory of what it is like for something to be new and bright.
I wonder if the question should be how many elders and youngsters get time together now? Rather than a generic question of elder care or end of life philosophy.
What work to the elders have now? Who takes care of the children?
Part of the difference is yes, we keep people alive long after they want to live. Also, this culture more and more disrespects old age. The ideologues are even playing the card "these people are eating up YOUR future, youngsters, with all their entitlements, so cut the entitlements and show them who's boss." (This after these same people paid into the entitlement bank for decades, because they believed it not to be an entitlement, but a contract that would not be violated
( ... )
Kind of off topic, but why doesn't your friend the gardener make a water garden? Even if he has to float above it on a raft, he could be weightless and still tend plants.
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100 years ago these people you describe would very likely have passed before their lives became a daily hell.
Of course we all want our loved ones with us to the last possible second, adn when it's MY grandma I can't think dispassionately, but we as a society need to look at quality of life as well as quantity. What good is an extra five years if those five years are spent in constant pain and disorientation, not knowing who the people around you are, not recognizing loved ones, just frightened and in pain.
I just don't know.
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My other grandmom, who will turn 94 next month can see, but can't remember much. Her quality of life is crappy. She's never been social, so she sits in her room all day long.
Old age is catching up to my dad much faster than my mom--he has Parkinson's and a bad back (bad combo). Both are 70.
I've watched my dad go from someone who could run miles without a thought to someone who can't walk very far and for whom simple tasks like buttoning a shirt takes forever. He, who used to be the most stoic person in my family, gets panic attacks now.
Mom, however, helped me garden and haul plants about my back yard. Sure, she's got her aches and pains, but she has her wits, her sight, and pretty much normal body motion.
The old age of your childhood might not be unreal... it just may not be what you're seeing in the loved ones you see now.
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When a child comes to us with a shiny thing or when we can share a skill or an experience with a child we gain a bit of our own youth back and the memory of what it is like for something to be new and bright.
I wonder if the question should be how many elders and youngsters get time together now? Rather than a generic question of elder care or end of life philosophy.
What work to the elders have now? Who takes care of the children?
I don't know.
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Reply
Sorry. Kind of impractical, but I like the idea.
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