How old is too old

[pomtzu]

I can't answer this, as I have been pondering such things myself.

My Dad has Alzheimer's. Every day, I lose a bit more of him. He still knows who I am, but he is so confused, can't follow a conversation, read a newspaper, follow a TV show.

I wonder sometimes why I am giving him the Aricept and Namenda pills. They neither cure nor stop the progress of this horrid disease.

I can understand the insulin, he has been on that for almost 10 years now and it controls his diabetes so he can do things, be himself. I can also understand most of the other meds he is on.

But the ones for the Alzheimer's, I just don't know. The very fact that I think this way gets me upset and I cry. What kind of daughter does this make me? It is a very touchy issue here.

First of all Sandie, let me say that I think you're a saint for what you're doing for Dad. Many people just couldn't handle it, and I don't really know if I could or not. Fortunately, Alzheimer's is something that has never hit home in my family.

My sister in law encountered a care giving situation with my brother. He suffered a massive stroke, and then cancer when he was only 59. He was left totally dependent on others for his care. He didn't want to live this way, and even begged his wife to help him end his suffering - which of course she didn't. He slipped further away every day, but his wife cared for him at home and never put him in a nursing home. She slept on the floor on a mattress next to his hospital bed so that she could hear if he was in distress during the night. She tube fed him, changed his diapers, bathed him, turned him every couple of hours, and all this done on her own with the occasional help of a visiting nurse. He lived like this for 5 years, and his last 18 months, he was comatose, and he mercifully passed on after he contracted pneumonia.

He never wanted to exist this way as he had always been a healthy and active and productive person. When is enough, enough? I wish there was an answer...........

[Pinot's Mom]

There really isn't an answer and EVERY situation is different. I firmly believe it's in God's hands for a reason; our emotions as humans would always get in the way and we would not make the right decision. I have to believe there is a plan.

Having said that; I sympathize greatly with all of you who have had to deal with this issue on a personal level. I have not - my husband and I have lost many members of our families, but none have had dementia in any form. Well, let me clarify: Helen, my mother in law, was riddled with cancer, lived with us for her last year, and was not in her own mind at the end, but her ILLNESS was not dementia, it was cancer. She was disoriented and very hard to calm at times, and had many of the dementia issues, but not all the time.

We have very specific portions of our own wills dealing with the medical finalities; it's a necessity. I'm afraid that's all you can do.

[Medusa]

A friend sent this to me in an email and it fits perfectly into this thread:


When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska , it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Missouri .

The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . . .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am. . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . .. . and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . see ME!!

[moosmom]

Cassiesmam,

I'm with you. If I have to go into a nursing home, sitting in a wheelchair in the hallway, drooling away...CALL DR. KEVORKIAN!!! I do NOT want to living in a wheelchair or a hospital bed for that matter, having to have my diaper changed. If I don't have all my faculties, I've already got a will both regular and living so there is no mistake about it. Unless you can make me whole again and give me a few more years of happiness, then pull the damn plug. As they say, stick a fork in me, I'm done!!!

[rosethecopycat]

A friend sent this to me in an email and it fits perfectly into this thread:


When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte, Nebraska , it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Missouri .

The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . . .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am. . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . .. . and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . see ME!!

Thanks Medusa,

I am trying to 'touch' some of these very folks here Christmas day, by playing some music for them.

Faraway eyes.......

[Catlady711]

I can go both ways on the issue.

I too have seen the suffering and the 'not quite there' part of people who 'live' (if you can call it that) for years just for the sake of being alive. Mostly due to doctors not being able to handle letting someone go when it's in their best interest.

However I have a great aunt that about 20 years ago had to be hospitalized with heart problems and underwent surgery. They said she was dead for a period of time (I want to say 3-4 minutes) and they brought her back. She's now in her mid 80's and until the last few years had been living a full life with no brain damage from the experience. Her other health problems have caused her to be more house bound the last few years. Her one son lives with her at her home to help her with things, do the cooking/cleaning, and drive her to her dr. appts (she can no longer drive). But she still has a ready joke to tell and can laugh at herself even. We've had 20 years (hopefully more to come) with her that we would not have if they had not recussetated (sp?) her.

So I can't really say one way or the other is right in every situation, I think it depends.

[Marigold2]

How many of us would want a living will and a DNR so we don't become a living veggie?
I for one.
Are we keeping mom and dad alive for us or because it's best for them? Sometimes the thought of letting them go is too much to bear so we keep them alive even when they no longer know who we are, why............ To repair past wounds, to makeup for lost time?
How many times can we say goodbye, give them last rites?
Do for them as we would want done for us I believe would be best.
I don't want my children to go through that, seeing a veggie who used to be a mom.
I want my kids to have a happy life, live, love, laugh. I can give them one last gift with a DNR. They don't have to keep telling me I am loved, I already know. My body is an empty shell but my love will always be with them. That is what I have told my kids, what my mom told me.