One of the most pernicious attitudes any older person can slide into is lethargy. It puts a damper on independence, kills initiative, smothers liveliness. Lethargy can easily overshadow & swallow up an older's life.
This, I know from first hand experience with Mom. On several occasions, she took a long time getting back on her feet after surgeries and/or hospitalizations. The very worst of all was happening just around this time of year, about 23 or so years ago. For a while, I wondered if I would ever be able to pry her out of the house.
It started with a hospitalization for a heart murmur. Mom was an old hand at those hospitalizations - she'd be in for just a few days, long enough to stable her slightly roller-coastering heart beat. Not this time. This time things went horribly awry.
Her regular heart specialist was unavailable & her hospital care fell to a highly respected, very "old school" cardiologist. When her meds were haywire, he took over a day to correct them: when he finally did, he blamed Mom's body for not responding properly. It certainly didn't - what should have been a short, minor hospitalization became far, far more serious & way, way longer.
When she was finally released, part of his post-hospitalization instructions were to walk several times up & down the flight of steps between the 1st & 2nd floor. What he did not caution was to have someone "spot" her, since her meds could leave her light headed. Two days after she'd returned home, she was back in the hospital - with a broken hip, the result of a tumble down three steps.
Surgery, long hospitalization, then weeks in rehab left her 81-year old spirits feeling in utter disarray & broken. I had never seen the life sucked out of her before. Even weeks after returning to her cozy room between the computer & art studios, she remained unusually quiet, withdrawn.
Utterly failed to get her out for the bops that had been a staple in her life - Saturday morning coffee & sticky buns at her beloved Snacks by the Tracks, lunch with Aunt Di or Gig, or an out & about ramble. Every suggestion was met with some version of turning her face to the wall. I was getting alarmed.
Luckily, Mother Nature has always been an excellent ally. Using some flowering plant or tree as a lure, I got Mom out on the first short drive, just down to Bryn Athyn & back. Slowly slowly, the rides got longer. Instead of just driving around the church, we'd explore Cairn Run or do The Loop, drive the campus or meander along Mason's Mill to Huntingdon to Edge Hill & down Terwood. At that point, I was ready to make my big move.
Mom had enjoyed waving at people as we breezed past, but she still totally resisted any suggestion to actually interact with people. That was a worry, being totally the opposite to her usual warm & welcoming self. Felt like the fall had shaken her sense of security & stability to the core. It was increasingly clear that I'd have to DO something to help restore her earlier sense of "all's right with the world."
One beautiful late April afternoon, the two of us headed out on a late afternoon drive. Mom didn't think anything about heading along Terwood to Valley - taking in a ramble through woodsy Rydal was a natural build off our earlier drives. This time, however, I took care to make it an extra long drive. Sure enough, Mom lightly touched my arm, "I think we should head home - nature calls."
No problem, I assured her - Barnes & Noble just opened a branch in Jenkintown, less than 5 minutes from here, and it's ladies room is easy to get to. She wasn't exactly happy about it, but agreed to give it a go.
Her book-loving nature took care of the rest. There was no way she was passing by all those tables of books & not picking up a few to check out. I directed her to the cafe (literally less than a minute from the rest rooms, should she need one), settled her, and ordered a cup of decaf coffee & a tasty morsel. Mom was hooked.
Barnes & Noble was her half-way house for reconnecting with her circle of friends, with her community. People would see her sitting there & come over, not too many but just enough to send her home smiling over the ones she'd seen. We got permission to celebrate her birthday there, complete with cake & presents & even a few of her head-board stuffies. Slowly, surely, her old spirits returned. But I will always remember the hollowed-out woman who wouldn't budge from her big chair in the living room, the one who was cocooned in the shell of lethargy.
Time & again, I've experienced older friends who balk at going out on a ramble, for a sip & a nibble, for a meal. It takes persistence, tenacity & a bit of inspiration to pry the fingers of lethargy off their spirit, but oh what a difference it makes!
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