Most Tuesday nights, you’ll find me whisking an older friend from her senior lifestyle community to our mutual hometown’s elder residence, where she glories in having dinner with classmates & longtime friends. Because it's more fun for her, we sit at separate tables.
Last night, one of her table mates seemed irked with me. She seemed to feel that I was neglecting my friend.
It's easy to see her worry, given how many people who’ve tipped the Big 9-0 need extra care & watchfulness. What the concerned woman didn’t realize is that my friend waves away extra care & makes no secret of her dislike of watchfulness. Which is why I do it at a distance.
While I was aware that the other woman seemed concerned I was paying insufficient attention to my friend, it wasn’t until we stood in line to get our dinner that it really hit home. She came up to me, quite worried, telling me my friend was standing in line - wasn't I getting her dinner?
I smiled, say, “Yes.” A moment later, my friend came up, in some distress, asking, “Are YOU getting my dinner.” I gave another smile as I handed her the plate that the caterer had just served. Together we strolled back to her table, right next to mine. As we do every Tuesday.
What the other woman didn’t realize, what she might not fully understand, is the crucial place for benign apparent neglect in working with the significantly older. My friend has no physical ailments to limit mobility; her challenges are with bouts of confusion & forgetfulness. In my experience, the more she does for herself, the better her mental processes.
PROCESS is the key word. My friend loves coming to dinner, enjoys interacting with everyone. That includes going to get her soup & salad, then later standing in the dinner line. She doesn’t notice that I am at least a step ahead of her.
The caterer does – she’s prepared to see me standing there, two plates in hand. The first, for my friend, gets the usual starch, vegetable, protein (last night, mashed potatoes, peas & meat loaf). The second, mine, is loaded with double helpings of just veggies. Once they're in hand, I tag up with my friend & together we head back to wherever she is seated.
She doesn’t need to be fussed over, doesn’t need to feel mollycoddled or that she needs escorting back because she might not remember where she’s sitting. She needs to feel part of the dining process, as many of the processes as possible. She needs to feel independent, rather than waited on.
Yes, I am prone to acting with benign apparent neglect. And sometimes I might miss that she wants her coat around her shoulders or is ready for dessert. Those are piddly inconveniences compared to the rewards of literally standing on her own two feet, in line with people she cares about, enjoying the moment.
My purpose isn’t to get her dinner. It’s to help her feel as independent as she possibly can be.
I am grateful that my dear friend has such a wonderful opportunity to, however briefly, experience as fully as possible the priceless sense of being on her own, of acting for herself. Whatever apparent neglect it takes to help that happen goes way past benign, to downright blessed!
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