She Seeks a Fresh Start at Age 80 : Widow’s Willing Attitude Helps Difficult Readjustment

With my husband gone after more than 50 years of marriage, I was hitting 80. Working, worry and effort had left me a shadow of my usual self--93 pounds instead of 120. Arthritis and eating problems were more pronounced, due to the stress of coping with everyday problems by myself.

Thankfully, I was mentally alert, able to drive my car and eager to reasonably enjoy the balance of my life with hard-earned savings we had accumulated. Careful mortgage investments and accrued Social Security put me in a middle-class bracket.

Another hot summer was about to begin on the desert where we had spent 30 memorable summers. (My husband had insisted on the dry climate for his health.) With the real-estate market in Palm Springs not favorable for a quick sale of our condo, I closed it up, deciding to wait to sell it.

I did not have a family of my own. My two younger sisters were not able to volunteer to care for me, but were most supportive of anything I wanted to do. One lived in the San Fernando Valley and the other in a thriving beach resort city.

Checked Senior Dwellings

We had previously checked senior citizen dwellings in both areas, in the hope that my husband and I would try living in one during the warmer months. Most were not inviting. One, however, stood out sharply because it had a choice of rooms, apartments or bungalows and spacious, well-cared-for grounds.

It was in the cooler climate, only 10 minutes from one sister and less than an hour’s drive from the other one. This is where I decided to stay. A furnished bachelor unit in the high-rise building, with three meals a day, would run under $800 a month. For a permanent residence, I would surely require more space. But closets were ample. There was a small kitchen and a private patio that created the impression of openness, including the outdoor greenery I loved. Lounging sections on every floor, laundry rooms and entertainment places presented a picture that was pleasing.

I remained in that unit for three months before replacing the furniture with some of my own, making it more homey. The monthly rate was practically the same with my own belongings and a possibility of yearly raises did not appear too threatening.

Up to this point, I had been functioning automatically in a state of bereaved numbness. Now the reality of survival became a challenge. For the first time in my adult life I was not responsible for anyone or to anyone. I could concentrate on me. What to do about it?

Starting with sister’s recommended family physician, I was happy to learn that he was not one of those who say, “You’re old. What do you expect?” He told me that I was actually starved because of a swallowing difficulty. I would need more meals in smaller portions, food supplements, vitamins to build my strength.

Relatives came to celebrate my first birthday party at the retirement center, not at all certain that I would make it another year. Gaunt, fragile, I appeared old enough to be the mother of my two younger sisters.

What I lacked in stamina was overshadowed by a positive outlook and a willingness to use every available source for improvement. Monthly visits to the doctor were seasoned with frequent mental science lectures as well as supportive faith from my own and other religious followings. I made every effort not to miss any of the five-days-a-week exercise program for senior citizens. When I encountered a masseuse at our front desk, looking for one more client, I indulged in the luxury of a weekly massage in my own room.

Gained a Little Weight

I gained a fraction of a pound each month, in spite of swallowing like a goose due to achalasia (pockets in my esophagus) and a lack of appetite. I cannot truly say which procedure I pursued was most responsible for gains made after that first year. I would have to say it was a combination of all of them and knowing I would be OK if I made the effort.

One morning, I awoke completely rid of my crippling arthritis. Replacing it was a vitality and aliveness, which continues, with effort and care, to this day. Not perfect health but ability to contend.

Overcoming major health problems makes you thankful and forbearing. Even if you love everyone, it is not easy to share meals twice daily at a retirement home with those who chatter incessantly about casualties or with others too ill to eat. Many who wear hearing aids do not turn them on. They shout to be heard, or, not aware of the pitch of their own voices, speak too softly to be heard. Only the evening meal is eaten at reserved tables. If you’re lucky, three permanent diners may suit your own personality.

It takes patience to gracefully accept hot food served cold and cold food carelessly dished out. Few students make mindful waiters. With a no-tip policy, experienced waiters are scarce and part-time ones not too interested in what they are doing. The dining area at the retirement center is attractive, yet it is not possible to keep it properly ventilated to please hundreds of people with special requirements.

Why Gripe?

I am happy to be so much better off than most, so why gripe? Some do, with little advantage. There are benefits. Security guards, services, programs, trips and the panic button in the bathroom, if people reach it.

Three years can pass quickly when one is older. Charges mounted during the three years I’d lived there. It became $1,000 a month and I knew that would not be the final figure. That seemed secondary with the assurance of security for the rest of my life.

After a brief rental, my desert condo sold at a fair price. My car served me well. I was not obliged to use the available bus, able to offer favors to some and encourage ones needing a boost.

In my fourth year, changes and whispers about the future became prevalent. Folks were being moved from upper to lower floors and those rooms became partial-care units, at a cost of $2,000 a month. Most newcomers had canes, crutches, walkers or even wheelchairs. Not up to my expectations, yet something I could tolerate.

Several people who were closely associated with me did not reach their panic buttons and were not discovered in time. I befriended a woman who needed moral and physical support. I became involved. Involvement is not wise. Taking on someone else’s burden has its toll. Sadly, however, only through this was awareness achieved.

My friend became too ill to function on her own. A period in the hospital was necessary. Costs on her unit continued in her absence. When she was ready to return, she was not considered acceptable for transfer to the $2,000 partial-care unit. An adjoining convalescent home was recommended. Its rate was around $3,000 a month. The place was not anything one could look forward to. It was usually so fully occupied that there were three beds in a room, little or no therapy and little individual attention. Realistically, this was where she would be spending the rest of her life--$40,000 yearly when medication was included.

Vitalized for Action

What a smug sheet I had wrapped myself into: Throwing it aside vitalized me for action. With searching, there must be a supply for every need. I searched.

There were many apartments available. The cost would allow a sufficient balance for food and utilities, once I was settled, particularly since it was apparent that the next price level for my present unit was to be $1,200.

After consideration of several places, I settled for a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment in a new complex brought to my attention by advertisements. It was near an enormous shopping district.

Moving is not easy at any age; hard work and help are required. My sisters did their share, providing things needed to make me comfortable. Swap meets and garage sales were invaluable for fill-ins. Moving men and new managers were most accommodating. Taking part in my existence was gratifying.

I have had to rake the coals of stagnation and a whole new world has opened up. I am now six months into the change to active living, surrounded by active people of every age. This is the normal way to live. I feel and look 10 years younger.

Three nights a week, I have dinner with my nearby sister and her husband. One night each week I supply the roast or substance for a meal, usually enough for two meals. Occasionally, I take them out to dinner.

In my own quarters, I cook meals from scratch or use frozen dinners. I eat out when I have the urge to do so. I have a small, charming dining room. My preference is to sit at an open patio doorway with food on a snack tray, eating what I feel like, when I feel hungry. I enjoy what I eat and what I have. It is easy to match or surpass institutional food served in most retirement centers.

Choice of Life

I am grateful for what the senior home offered when I needed it. Now I look forward to my choice of life. There is time for work and play, to keep the juices stirring by participation. Contacts with bridge players has come about through placing a notice on the blackboard of a nearby mobile home park. I am in touch with the various senior citizen centers for other entertainment.

An extended development is in process here. Our units are very popular. There are guards on duty. In the evening, bright lights shimmer pleasantly through my modern horizontal and vertical blinds. It is unnecessary to use night lights. An emergency button is as close as my telephones. One sister checks on me early mornings. The out-of-town one spends at least one weekend a month with me.

There is of a lot of work in a new or well-kept place. If I need help, I will get it. If I want a live-in helper or companion, I have that choice with my private extra room and bath.

Not everyone has sisters like mine. But most have families, children, other relatives or friends made in the course of a lifetime. Others can do what I did, if they want to--even with a scant income and without a car. There are ways.

I keep up my daily walks and exercise. There are good days and bad days. I remember having them when I was 50, 30 and 15. Predictions that oldsters like me may live to 100 or even 110 years are rampant. Why not prepare for that future, being as strong and useful as possible? We have a terrific inventory. There must be a reason why we are scheduled to be around. I am ready to find out what it’s all about!