91 And Having Fun?

We celebrated ancient Mom's birthday yesterday. D1, Wifey and I drove to Delray to pick her up, and then met my Florida sister and brother in law at a Red Lobster (tm) for a late lunch. On the way, my California sister called, and suggested the toast be "91 and having fun." In reality, during the next few hours, I just thought how apt Springsteen had it: "In the end what you don't surrender, well the world just strips away."

At Mom's condo, she sat waiting, all dressed, and thanking Wifey: "All my clothes, you bought me!" That's because Mom's shrinking caused every piece of clothing she bought before she was 88 or so to make her look like a death camp survivor. She's shrunken from 5'5" and probably a playing weight of about 160 or so, to about, I'm guessing, 4'9" and less than 100 lbs.

Her mind is still largely there. She asked D1 about her new boyfriend, and read to us a birthday card D2 sent from Gainesville. Wifey noticed many birthday cards, from friends, and one niece in Oregon, and said "People still care about you and your birthday!"

California sister and her boys had sent some lovely strawberries dipped in chocolate, and those made her smile, too.

But then reality reentered. Wifey helped her put on her shoes, and then she Mom just sat, as if afraid of the pain of rising. Finally, we got her going and into the car. It was clear that on days her aide doesn't come, she must plod through --it must take her hours just to get out of bed and to the bathroom.

On the car ride to the restaurant, she launched into her speech --about refusing to go to an ALF. We all know she needs to. She only gets passionate these days when telling us how much she wants to stay in her condo.

It comes down to vanity. She has some episodes of incontinence, and is horrified when other people know. When I wheeled her to the group of folks at the Miami Jewish Home, during last year's attempt to move her there, she grimmaces. They all look exactly like her, but to Mom, in her mind, she's the elegantly dressed 40 something, on her way to see a Broadway show with her Long Island friends. I'm SURE of this --she looks at the aged, and thinks she's not one of them.

At the restaurant, my brother in law Dennis and I ordered 2.5 martinis each, the better to deal with this presentation of decay in front of us. Mom ordered her Maine lobster, and set about de shelling and eating it. Mom's love of lobster is family lore. The joke is that watching her eat it is the closest one can get (thank heavens) to watching an elderly person have sex.

And she did enjoy it, but then the rumblings started. She regurgitated a lot of it, and spit an egg drop soup looking liquid into her plate. We joked about it, but we knew what it meant: taking Mom out to restaurants was probably not going to happen anymore.

She then needed a bathroom trip, and Wifey jumped to her aid. On the way out, I told D1 that's a life lesson about true love. We make much fun of Wifey, but the way she treats her mother in law, with so much tenderness and care, teaches about love. I explained to D1, and she got it: love's not about valentines and flowers and perfume --true love is who cleans up the shit.

Anyway --we all decamped to Mom's condo, and sang happy birthday to her, and sampled the cake we brought from a French bakery. It was delicious.

Wifey gave Mom some of her jewelry, and my sister presented her with a lovely, handmade ornament. My sister is so talented with crafts. She took a styrofoam ball, and some thread, and wove it into a beautiful piece.

And then we all left. Mom's understandably become more needy. She asked me to visit weekly. I told her the 3 hour round trip was a bit daunting for me, but if she'd agree to move, we'd see her 3-4 times per week, between Wifey, me, and D1. The Miami Jewish Home is only 30 minutes away, and D1 lives even closer. We told her D1 would come and bring her great granddog. She held up her hand. No leaving the condo!

And so it will be, I guess.

I spoke to my professor friend Steve, an expert on aging. His father just passed in North Carolina, at 94. He faced many of the same issues.

The liklihood for Mom is that she'll fall in her home, go to the hospital, and then to a nursing home, where the end will come sooner than later. She'll miss out, sadly, on what could be some quality years of being with exactly her kind: WW II era folks, who love bagels and lox, and talking about back in the day...

Or the end will come some other way.

All I know is, some of Wifey's friends answered Wifey's posts about her 91 year old mother in law happily --telling her how lucky she is that the family has such "great genes."

To me --wishing someone that long a life is a dirty, angry curse...