Oh Very Young, Oh Very Old

I got the call yesterday morning I was sort of hoping for: the nice, diminutive social worker Gordon from Miami Jewish Home informed me that they had a long term bed for ancient Mom. She's been at MJH since May, but as a Rehab patient. Nursing homes like that status, as MediCARE pays a healthy amount, but is limited to 90 days. As that 3 month period was drawing to an end, I had concerns that they'd call me and say "Come get her." If Mom paid the $8000 monthly retail price, there would of course be a guaranteed bed, but now that we put her money into a Special Needs Trust, and she's legally poor and MediCAID eligible, MediCAID only pays around $2K per month for nursing homes, and many facilities find no room at the inn for those patients. But, Gordon came through, and she has a permanent spot. He warned that the building she's going to isn't as bright an airy as the rehab wing, and phone and TV aren't provided. But the food, which Mom loves, is the same, and there will of course be staff there to assist her in and out of bed, and more significantly onto and off the toilet. And, her frequent accidents will, hopefully, be taken care of quickly and with as much dignity as possible. I'm going to visit her today, and ask D1 to quicken her efforts to have her spoiled Spaniel approved for therapy visits. Also, yesterday's mail had our mixed breed Vienna's therapy certificate, so D2 can hopefully bring the strange looking pup to MJH as well. Ah, speaking of the young...Last night, I met D1 and her boyfriend Joel and Joel's mom Cindy for a few adult beverages at my bar Trulucks. Cindy is vivacious and lovely, and looks far younger than her age (one year older than I am). She and I were comparing notes on how happy we are that we had our kids young -- we still have some great years ahead, and we can enjoy our kids as adults. I dropped them off at a Brickell restaurant, and headed home. As I write, D2 is flying home from a long Gainesville weekend, and will head right to her internship at UM/JMH. She's learning what being a clinical psychologist really does. As I told her, it'll either cement her career choice, or let her know she needs to choose a different path. When I spent a summer working with my old friend Bob Davidoff in his neurobiology lab, I knew that medical research was NOT for me, and, ultimately, clinical medicine wasn't either... So the young take on the world, and the very old just sort of slouch along. Wifey's mother called several times yesterday, crying to Wifey that my father in law announced he would no longer eat, and wished to die. Wifey threatened him with calling EMS, and having them take him to the hospital and be fed with an IV. My father in law, though addled with Alzheimer's, figured out that some of his wife's chicken soup was preferable to the hospital, and he had a meal. Still, it won't be too long until he joins my mother in some sort of home... Life truly belongs to the young. It has always been thus, and shall continue. I found and posted a great Robert Frost poem on Facebook. Nothing gold can stay...