Are Your Papers in Order?

     This question is part of aging.  Whoever is asking wants to know if you have provided end of life instructions. Do you have a will?  Where and how are you to be buried?   Who knows of these plans? 

     No one asks a young person under fifty if their papers are in order, but it is a primary question after fifty and even more so if you are over sixty-five.

     When we were young, there was no thought of papers: wills, funeral plans, or living wills.  We grew up in the fifties, and nothing could end our lives.  We were invincible.  Our parents never talked about such things. I suppose they had wills, but it was never talked about.  It was a taboo subject; like, where did babies come from. 

     We did have insurance in case of a car accident.  Each of our children had a small life insurance policy because their great grandfather was an officer in Royal Arcanum, a fraternal benefit society. 

     Fifteen years after we were married, the government sent my husband to a third world country in South America.  Because the family was going with him,  we had wills drawn up and developed a plan for the custody of our children in case we both died in a common accident.  We talked to family members as well as friends to determine who would rear our children.   After much discussion, a couple of friends our own age agreed to take on these duties if necessary.  

     That document remained in place until our children were grown and on their own when it was replaced by a simple one – what’s yours is mine. What’s mine is yours, and the children share equally what is left.

     We were seventy-five when we moved to Georgia, our last move so to speak, and had to get our papers in order again. We needed to write new wills as the North Carolina wills were no longer valid.  The doctors asked if we had a living will, advanced directives, a power of attorney and a designated caregiver.  Next, we had to think about funeral plans.  We had managed the funerals for several older family members and did not want to saddle our children with the problem at the time of our demise.

     Our youngest daughter, the designated caregiver, went with us to the funeral home, and our funeral plans are now on file until needed.   Finally, we worked with an estate planner and set up a revocable family trust, and each child received a copy which should prevent future family squabbles.  At least we hope so.  

     Throughout this process, we talked to each of the children and asked for their input, and they all agreed it was our money and we should do whatever we desired.

     Seven years ago we believed we had all our documents in order, and they were stored in the safety deposit box in a nearby bank. However, over the past few years, technology has drastically changed.  Communication is done by E-mail, twitter, and skype.  Banking is done online, and one can move money from one account to another by pressing a few buttons.  Shopping is done online; bills are paid online.   Everything seems to be online or in the cloud somewhere.

     Our papers may be in order, but now we have to get our numbers in order.  There are usernames, passwords and security questions to remember.  Due to hackers, we are advised to prepare user names and passwords only we should be able to recognize and use. 

 

     My husband handles the finances and is the keeper of all these numbers.  Every six months we sit down at the computer to review this information and find he has changed a few of them or has added new accounts. After every review, a new copy of these numbers is placed with our papers in case our caregivers or I have to take over.

      We have learned living is an ever changing experience, and we have to race to keep up.

Aging Together

                                     I want to grow old with you

      I remember, so well, when this term was bandied about during our dating years.  Little did any of us know what it might entail.  It was a very romantic thing to say, but we never really thought about it as we ran along the road of young love.  Well, here I am growing old with my lifelong partner.  The romance has faded a bit, and I find this growing old together is really hard work.

     When we were young, we did things together just to be together.  Then we worked together to teach and prepare our children for their future.  In the meantime, we supported each other in our personal lives and careers.  This included many adventures moving around the country, flying to faraway lands, paddling canoes, sailing yachts and adjusting to many cultures along the way.  These experiences provided much joy and happiness; however, there were a few scary times which really helped to make the bond stronger.  Through the years, we learned to read each other and understand when one needed support or just needed to be left alone.

     Now, here we are in our golden years.  We are still together and clinging to each other for support.  Sometimes the clinging is too much, or the support may be too little or too encroaching.  Sometimes it is hard to determine what one wants or needs, compared to what is wanted or needed by the other person.  When we get up in the morning, we begin to read the signs for the day.  How quick is the footstep on the way to the bathroom?  How quick is there a “Good morning” and is there eye contact with it?  Is the tone of voice cheery or flat?  Are the eyes bright and alert or almost vacant? 

    These signals mark the tone for the day – fun-filled small adventures or quiet avoidance to prevent confrontation.  Which one of us must give or receive support for the day?

     If the results are positive, we can discuss what we might do together on our little adventures.  We may clean up the back porch, go shopping, try a new food for dinner, or talk about the new book one of us is reading.   

   

     When one of us has a bad day, the job for the other becomes more difficult.  Is this the time to just be available if needed or remind the partner of the things usually done to lift one’s spirits: go shopping, play bridge, poke around in the garden, or go for a walk?

     Heaven help us when we are both having a bad day!!  We just muddle through and hope the next day will be better for one of us.

Life Moves Too Fast

     Life is moving on, and I feel like I am standing still.  There is instant gratification all around me, and I do not believe the rest of the world even stops for a minute to smell the roses or appreciate the world around them.

    Traffic moves at sixty-five miles an hour on four-lane highways.  The news is instantaneous.  Music is continuous.  Communication is available at the flip of a wrist and a touch of a finger.   I can talk to someone and see them at the same time even though they are on the other side of the world. There are fast food restaurants and prepackaged dinners.    Televisions, computers, I-Pads or smartphones bring entertainment into the home or into the car.  Speaking of the car, road maps are no long needed; just flip open the phone or push a button in your car.

    Electronics has everyone moving at a faster and faster pace.  However, as I get older, my brain function seems to go slower.   It takes longer to learn something new and retain it.  That would be fine, but in six months, what I have learned is obsolete, and I have to start all over.

    This phenomenon has slowly crept up on me.  Early in life, I could remember phone numbers, and address with no problem - never carried a notepad.  After I had turned fifty, I wrote them down so I could refer to them.   A few years later, I needed a bit more help.  Instant recall was not so instant.  Before I made a phone call, I wrote a note to myself as to who I was calling and what I wanted to talk about.  Because I was trying to do two or three things at once probably didn’t help, but this crutch did keep me from sounding like a fool when the party answered, and I couldn’t remember who I was calling.

    I keep adding another crutch here and there, and I presume this condition is due to the aging process, but it sure is frustrating.  Sometimes I wish for the good old days when I was comfortable with my surroundings and did not have to scramble to keep up.

Is This Aging?

An article I wrote several years ago

     What is this aging all about?  Being seventy-six, I am getting to know a bit more about it.  Two years ago while I was working for my nonprofit and pushing myself, my only problem was not being able to remember things unless I wrote them down. 

     Before making a telephone call, I would write down the name of the person whom I was calling to prevent stumbling around trying to remember their name when they answered.  I would also make a list of what I wanted to talk about and had any documentation close by that I could quickly refer to if necessary.  As for trying to remember telephone numbers like I used to when I was younger, forget it.  I looked them up or used speed dial.   A list of what I wanted to do for the day kept me going, and I wouldn’t forget what I needed to do.

     In 2009 I gave away my nonprofit and slowly settled into retirement.  It was great not to push myself and take it a little easier.  Most of the time was used to prepare the house for sale, prepare for our move, and giving away many of the things we had stored from the past.

      The children now become the keepers of the memories, antiques, books, pictures, etc.  In 2010 we moved to what I called our permanent timeshare in Savannah.  Here life was different. We had to set up another life, daily schedule, meet new friends and develop new interests.

     We settled in, put everything in its place and prepared to enjoy our new life.  Gordon called up his old buddy, Chuck, and they began to play golf three days a week. Years ago I had taken art classes using oil paints. Because I did not like the mess and smell that emanated from the use of oils, I was determined to learn how to use watercolors. I discovered Peggy Cone, an old friend and watercolor artist, was still giving lessons.  I signed up and added one new thing to my schedule. 

     I wanted to become part of a bridge group as I never had enough time to really do this before.    I checked into the Duplicate Bridge Club on Ferguson Ave and began playing every Monday.  Since most of the people I played with in New Bern were life masters and I had been playing at that level for many years, I began to play with the A team.  They played by slightly different rules than I was used to and found it difficult to add and assimilate new information. I become very depressed and really did not want to play anymore because it would be three days before I felt good about myself.  

     I guess it was the aging process as I had never had that problem before.  In the past, I could pick up anything and run with it in a few days.  I decide I didn’t need to do this to myself and quit bridge cold turkey.  I decided I was punishing myself and looked for something else that I could do to keep busy.

    The Red Cross was looking for volunteers.  I  called, and my line went like this.  “I am a retired nurse, and I am computer literate; could you use me?” 

     Their emphatic answer was. “Yes.  And can you come in tomorrow?”

      I did, and I actually started that day.  I used all my old talents that I had used before, and I felt needed and good about myself again.  I was tapping into my longtime memory, and it gave me a new lease on life.

     Retirement is fine, but when one loses the sense of being or being needed, life begins to ebb.  As one ages, I do believe one has to work hard at just BEING.

 As an introduction, I will start with an item I wrote several years ago.

The Young and the Old

They are really alike only at different ends of the spectrum.

The Young need a proper diet to grow big and strong.

The Old need a proper diet to keep up their strength.

The Young need day care while the parents work.

The Old need day care while the children work.

The Young need an education to age well.

The Old need to continue education to stay young.

The Young need love and attention to get a proper start.

The Old need love and attention to keep on going.

The Young need medications to combat their childhood diseases.

The Old need medications to combat the aging process.

The Young give joy to the Old.

The Old give comfort to the Young.

The Young give many headaches to the parents as they grow up.

The Old give many headaches to their children as they age.

Ella Mae Rayner, RN

written in 2008