The Great Forgotten

This afternoon I paid a visit to an elderly lady called Alma, who my mum sees regularly as part of her volunteering for St.Vincent de Paul, a parish based charity which focuses on the socially excluded in local communities. The nursing home where she lives is utterly soulless; there must be at least ten elderly people in one dingy room, with one television set that's so far away most of them must not be able to hear it even if they wanted to. None of the residents are mobile, which means when the time comes to move them to or from their rooms they have to be winched out of their seats by a monstrous contraption (health and safety legislation requires it) that barely fits through the door.

Alma is hunched over in her chair, completely immobile. She still has her mental faculties, just about, but physically she is shot to pieces and totally reliant on the staff (some of whom are very pleasant and affable, others far less so) to wash her, feed her, put her to bed. Mum tells me that her daughter rarely visits, despite the fact she lives down the road, that they have a volatile relationship at best and that she has shown no interest whatsoever in finding out who the lady that visits her mother every single week without fail actually is.

I know it's not for me to judge, but I must admit I find this nothing short of reprehensible. Maybe they do have a difficult relationship, but plenty of mothers and daughters do (I'm ashamed to admit when I'm home for more than a couple of days I find myself snapping at Mum all the time, and desperate to get back home and have some space, but this doesn't mean I don't love her dearly). I can't believe anyone could be so callous as to leave their own flesh and blood in such a vacuous place, devoid of personality and life, for weeks, even months, on end, knowing they may not have any other visitors and are just staring at the same four walls, day in, day out.

It breaks my heart to see anyone in such a terrible predicament. It's just such an indignity that these people, many of whom have lived full and fascinating lives, should end up dribbling and alone in the corner of a grotty living room, with nobody to talk to and nothing to look forward to. Maybe the ones who have lost their minds are the lucky ones; at least they aren't able to comprehend the horrendousness of their situations. Except even that isn't necessarily true. Dementia can vary in severity, and even today I saw a lady who was clearly not entirely 'there' getting very distressed when her husband came to visit and repeatedly mouthing 'I can't do this' and throwing her hands up in the air.

I feel selfish and ashamed to say the experience has left me feeling down, and contemplating my own demise, but the truth is it has. As an only child it has dawned on me more than once that when my parents get old and infirm and, God forbid, one of them passes away leaving the other alone, there will be a lot of responsibility resting on my shoulders to ensure they receive the care they so unequivocally deserve. God willing, they'll keep their mental faculties and physical fitness long into their old age, but one can never guarantee these things, life has a funny way of throwing curve balls at you, and you just have to find a way to dodge them.

And then there's me. I'm always going on about my tragic love life and bemoaning the fact I'll never meet the one, but what if I don't? And subsequently don't have children of my own? What then? Who will look after me when I'm old and infirm if I have no family network to support me? If I'm very lucky, some kind soul might visit me like my Mum visits others, but what kind of a life is that really? One visitor once a week, and not even a blood relation because all your blood relations have abandoned you. It's worse than purgatory. Awful as it sounds I really do think I'd rather be dead than end up like that. It certainly strengthens the case for voluntary euthanasia in my eyes.

We should be ashamed of the way our country treats its elderly, the mums and dads of bygone days who are now deemed unfit for purpose and locked away in airless rooms to die, out of sight and out of mind. I can only hope and pray that none of my nearest and dearest ever suffer such an indignity, that the love that surrounds them now never dies, and that the love they've shown to others is repaid tenfold.

Anyway, that's quite enough misery and despair for one day, but I'll end by saying this: I've nothing but absolute admiration for people like my Mum, who give up so much of their time to care for others, with no reward to speak of other than the knowledge they are in some way making a difference to what's left of the lives of the Great Forgotten.