Visiting Ng-yin ng-yin . . .

Old folks homes.  Care homes.  Long term facilities.  Kind of all the same thing, but with different names.  I like how care home sounds.  Nice, caring, being looked after well.  My mother in law is in a care facility.  At almost 95 her ability to look after herself has diminished substantially, but her mind is still razor sharp.

I have mixed feeling when we go and visit her.  It is a privilege, really, for me to be able to take my kids to see their grandma.  It is an honour to her for us to come and visit.  It makes my heart smile knowing that my kids like to go and visit and that she so enjoys their company.  So, as often as is possible, we go.  We drink tea with her and eat cookies and she pinches their cheeks and doesn't speak a word of English.

My melancholy kicks in when I greet others who are visiting and they inform me that one or the other of their parents or grandparents has passed away.  Or the funny little grandma who always says the exact same thing isn't there to greet us at the front door.  Or the number of special care beds in the sun-room number six now instead of the four that were there last week.

It hits me when we walk in the door, past the laundry room, and I am assaulted by the smell.  It's not entirely horrible, but it can induce retching.  I think if urine were to ferment, that is what it would smell like.  It's a sad smell, but it's one that you kind of get used to after about an hour.

I also struggle with seeing the indignities that these elderly are subjected to.  Growing old brings with it so many unpleasant things.  Soiled diapers, inability to feed oneself, or clothe oneself, losing the ability to speak and move.

And then I see the care aides.  The men and women who work in the home and care for the residents.  The level of patience and the concern that they have for all of the people who are in their care.  And then I think, how do they do it?  They are there, and they will care for everyone who passes in and out of those doors.  End of life care.  Watching death come every day and still maintaining their positive spirits and smiling and caring and doing all that needs to be done for those who cannot do it for themselves.  They are an amazing group of people doing an honourable and noble job.   That's not to say that there are not exceptions, I'm sure there are.  I am just grateful that my mother in law is a place where we know that she is being well cared for.

These are my thoughts, my kids see it differently.  They are excited.   They want to go see ng-yin ng-yin (translation for paternal grandma).  When we go see her they get to see the fish pond and the cat and ng-yin ng-yin gives them candy.   They get to order tea from the kitchen staff.  They've learned that they need to ask politely for milk and to say please if they want a cookie.  We end up having a real tea party buffet at our table.  They know that the little curly haired grandma who is always dressed to the nines is going to talk to them and they need to respond kindly and with a smile.  They know too, that there is another grandma that they need to be careful of because we never know how she is going to react to anything (had a couple of scary run-ins with her).  John, a really big guy who has had a brain injury, is always kind to them and shakes their hands.

All of these instances are opportunities.  For me to teach and to learn.  For my kids to learn compassion and kindness.  I am grateful that my children get to know who their dad's mom is.  That they are going to have some amazing memories of their time with her and that they are acquiring some incredibly valuable life lessons.