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Please Don't Let Me Go Like This

Discussion in 'Anything goes' started by Pete Incaviglia, Sep 25, 2008.

  1. Pete Incaviglia

    Pete Incaviglia Active Member

    So, the wife and I are watching baby Inky play on the floor this morning in our third-floor apartment and this huge garbage bin arrives via truck. It's the kind you see on home renovation shows like Flip This House.

    All of sudden, every household item imaginable starts flying off the balcony below and landing in the bin.

    Apparently, the old chain-smoking lady who lived below us either died or has moved to a nursing home (I know she was in hospital for a while).

    Seriously, I don't want to be 80 or 90 or whatever and the only thing left to do is throw all my worldly possessions of my balcony into an industrial garbage bin.

    It's actually sad. I wonder where her family, if she has any at all, is.
  2. KG

    KG Active Member

    She could be getting evicted.
  3. goalmouth

    goalmouth Active Member

    My neighbor who lived alone for 50 years recently moved to assisted living. The clean-up crews carted off five big dumpsters of junk from the three-bedroom, two-bath

    I am much less anxious now about my own dotage, secure in the knowledge that I won't have to do the actual cleaning.
  4. TheSportsPredictor

    TheSportsPredictor Well-Known Member

    As long as they weren't throwing me in the junk pile, I'd be fine with it. Hell, half the time I fantasize about pulling a trash truck outside my place and throwing my own crap out the window.
  5. Jay Sherman

    Jay Sherman Member

    You should go dumpster diving.
  6. mike311gd

    mike311gd Active Member

    My grandma, a nurse for about 40 years, is 81 years old, and she acts just as young as her grandkids, minus the whole driving after dark thing. And I worked at an assisted living hospital for about five years.

    We've talked about this many times before, when her brother and sister had to move into them and about how each of us wants to go -- or not go. They're not for us. We're far too independent to have people waiting on us and waiting, really, fo us to die.

    My dad and I spoke about his parents' future. "My dad will never make it without my mom. ... I think he'll have to live with your aunt or move into a nursing home. My mom could survive, but she'll probably be happier in a nursing home because all her friends are there."

    "What about Grandma Betty, dad?"

    "Heh, she'll live by herself forever. I don't think anyone could take her out of her house."
  7. forever_town

    forever_town Active Member

    We had to move both my great aunt and my grandmother out of their respective apartments a few years ago. The sheer amount of physical junk that had to get thrown out of my great aunt's apartment was not to be believed.

    In 2006, my grandmother suffered a stroke. All of a sudden, her mind really started to go downhill fast. Gone was her ability to drive. Gone was her ability to cook or take care of herself. She had been taking care of my great aunt, who was also losing her mental faculties (both suffer from some form of dementia).

    In between, my father and I planned a trip to Los Angeles as a mini-vacation (he won tickets to a studio taping of Dr. Phil and he agreed to pay for everything but the long term parking at the airport, so I happily agreed. He wasn't sure if he could go because of my grandmother's condition, but one of her neighbors offered to take care of her so that we could go on this badly-needed trip. While we were gone, she wouldn't let my grandmother out of her sight.

    A little bit of background: My father and my grandmother basically started clashing when my grandfather started getting sick just months ahead of his 1996 death from lung cancer. So when she moved in to live with us, it didn't take long before they started to go at each other's throats. It wasn't long before my father took the money from selling my grandmother's condo in a retirement community and put her up in an assisted living place just up the road from us. When they sold the apartment, a lot of junk had to go out.

    It was, and is, quite an ordeal. My father has to take care of two little old ladies who are both losing their minds. And his being a retired nurse doesn't help all that much. And when they lived together, they were at each other's throats. So bringing them both back to live with us is not an option. When he and his partner are on vacation, all of a sudden, I have to be responsible for making sure my grandmother's meds are current, along with other issues.

    Mick Jagger put it best: "What a drag it is getting old."
  8. ArnoldBabar

    ArnoldBabar Active Member

    My wife's parents are incredible packrats who have lived in their house for 40 years. I always tell my wife that when they die, there are going to be two options: she and her sister spending six months going through everything, or one match.
  9. Birdscribe

    Birdscribe Active Member

    My dad just turned 94 two weeks ago. He lives on his own about 75 miles away in a seniors complex (not assisted living).

    I've been trying to get him up by me for three years, but he's having none of it. All of his friends and family have either died or moved away. He's got a couple friends there who look in on him, but I come out at least once a month to go through his mail. He has advanced glaucoma and can't read anymore.

    He had a stroke 6 years ago that was mild, but it did a number on his short-term memory. He doesn't drive anymore. A year ago, he was having issues. They had to take him to the hospital a couple of times.

    So I put a bunch of his clothes in a bag and took him to the doctor, then up to my house while I figured out what to do with him. He lived with us for three weeks while I took him to several senior places/assisted living places. He wanted no part of any of it and one day, we had a knock-down/drag-out. He wanted to go home and wanted no part of living up here.

    I acquiesced and took him home with the warning that when I call, he better answer. We talk every day and he's doing pretty damn well. He walks a mile a day and had a doctor's appt. where the doc said his heart and lungs are in great shape.

    But I wish I could get him closer. He thinks if he moves up here, he'll die.
  10. mike311gd

    mike311gd Active Member

    After my last two moves, my ex-girlfriend (the one who can spell masturbate correctly) looked at me in disgust -- a different kind than usual -- because of how much trash I moved. The first time, when I opened the moving truck, empty boxes fell out. I brought them because my new place had a dumpster, and the other one didn't.

    The next time we moved my stuff, before she put anything away, she asked, "Do you want this?" So, regretfully, I parted with my mixed tapes from the late '90s. We ended up throwing away a couple bags worth of stuff. She said, "I'll probably be the one who'll have to go through your stuff when you're dead, so why not start now?"

    My response: "Eh."
  11. MacDaddy

    MacDaddy Active Member

    Sounds similar to my mom -- she's been in the same house for 23 years and has gotten to be even more of a packrat as she's gotten older. The last time I was at her house I was looking around, thinking of how much of a pain it's going to be going through her stuff when she dies. And my sister lives across the country and is going to be no help at all, which means it'll be up to me. Good times.
  12. Dyno

    Dyno Well-Known Member

    My mom has lived in our house for 43 years. She is very involved in a number of organizations and the amount of paper in the house is astounding. My dad, before he died earlier this year, would occasionally throw out piles and piles of paper and my mom never noticed. She has no system of organization, which drives me NUTS. Every time I go up to see her, I try to do some organizing of the spare room, where things are worst, but it's a very daunting task. I'm an only child, so all the crap in the house will someday be mine...and mine alone to deal with. It makes me want to get rid of all my stuff.
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