New York Times, August 19, 2017, Page B1 :
Your Money
Hard-Won Advice in Books on Aging and Elder Care

Longevity
is generally better than its alternative. But when the body or
especially the mind wears out, caring for yourself or finding someone
else to do it for you can impoverish you in short order.
We
fail to plan for it at our peril. So when it seemed that Republicans in
Washington were close to passing legislation that could fundamentally
change Medicaid, I wrote five straight columns
about the program. Already, the majority of Americans need Medicaid to
pay for at least some of their nursing home costs or care at home
because they’ve run out of money. Proposed caps on Medicaid, which have
not come to pass for now, had the potential to cause enormous problems.
In
the wake of those articles, you wrote in, hundreds of you, with
harrowing stories and hard-won advice, more of which I intend to present
in future columns. But a smaller number of people wrote in unprompted
to assign me homework — books that they found useful as they were
navigating their own changing conditions or those of spouses, close
friends or other family members.
This
week, I read all four books that came up at least twice in your
correspondence. I don’t recommend you do the same, for if you’re more
empathetic than average or prone to anxiety, you’ll finish the reading
sprint, as I did, emotionally wrung out and worried sick.
Still,
these books are all in their own way utterly essential reading. Few of
us are prepared for the financial and emotional complexities of managing
the last several years of our lives. But as we live longer, drain what
may prove to be inadequate retirement savings and lean harder on already
strained government programs, we’ll probably find ourselves facing ever
more challenging questions and unfortunate compromises.
We may as well know what’s coming. Here’s what I learned.
“Being Mortal,” by Atul Gawande

I
started here, with this book by a New Yorker writer and physician who
aims to help readers avoid what he calls a “warehoused oblivion,” even
if none of us will win the ultimate battle.
The
book is a good introductory text in part because of the sobering
statistics. By age 85, 40 percent of people have some form of dementia.
There are 350,000 falls each year that lead to broken hips. Once you’ve
got a fracture there, there’s a 40 percent chance you’ll end up in a
nursing home and a 20 percent chance you’ll never walk again.
A
good geriatrician, one hopes, will school you in stability to lessen
the chance of taking a spill. But good luck finding one, since their
numbers have declined even as studies show that people do better over
all under their care. Think your family will be there to steady you or
at least check in? According to Dr. Gawande, half of the very old among
us live without a spouse, and we’re having fewer children than ever
before.
He
writes movingly of his own father’s death, and I felt the lump rising
in my throat five times over 263 pages. But it is the chapter titled
“Letting Go” that I found most useful. There, he discusses the powerful
effect of frequent, concerted conversations about goals and wishes at
the end of life — not just bland, advanced medical directives in writing
but continuing talks out loud.
“It
is not death that the very old tell me they fear,” he writes. “It is
what happens short of death.” But we don’t think about it enough, and we
talk about it even less. Having read this book, I won’t make that
mistake or let anyone close to me make it either.
“The 36-Hour Day,” by Nancy L. Mace and Peter V. Rabins

The
title is a sympathetic nod to what it feels like to care for someone
with Alzheimer’s, other dementias or memory loss, and it could take
nearly that long to read this book and absorb.
Still,
its value is in its encyclopedic nature, including detours into
necessary but often uncomfortable topics like adult diapering and
masturbation. These authors have clearly heard and seen it all.
The
tips in Chapter 16 for people shopping for long-term care residences of
various sorts are particularly comprehensive. You’ll finish thinking
that this is a selection process that shouldn’t happen within 24 hours
of a hospital discharge but should instead unfold over weeks, and you’ll
be right.
“A Bittersweet Season,” by Jane Gross

The
reward for living a reasonably long life, according to Jane Gross’s
mother, was getting to “rot to death” rather than merely dying. As a
physician Ms. Gross quotes later in her book confirms, this “inching
toward oblivion” is no longer bad luck but a “generalizable phenomenon.”
With
that bit of foreboding as a baseline, Ms. Gross takes us on a
no-holds-barred tour through the years that she and her brother spent
caring for their late mother. The author, a former New York Times
reporter whom I’ve never met save for a few encounters on social media,
is unafraid to admit all the mistakes she made out of sheer ignorance
and how often even the most high-functioning adult children simply do
not know what they do not know.
The
book explains the financial side of her mother’s care — including her
eventual qualification for Medicaid — plain as day. I also picked up
even more tips for a list I’ll eventually publish of questions to ask
before picking a nursing home or assisted living facility.
As
someone with a sister and two sisters-in-law, I found the book most
useful as a sort of post-mortem meditation on gender. Women often lose
out twice or more in the aging derby, first when they take on
disproportionate responsibility for their aging parents and then again
when they outlive their spouses in old age. Ms. Gross’s raw honesty
about her feelings about all of this — often fair and sometimes not, by
her own admission — makes this book mandatory reading for any man with a
sister who wants to be thoughtful about planning for aging parents.
“Being My Mom’s Mom,” by Loretta Anne Woodward Veney

There
is no sugarcoating the number of physical and emotional challenges that
come with aging, so it’s clear why Ms. Veney’s upbeat memoir of the
years she has spent caring for her mother, Doris Woodward, who has
dementia, is so appealing.
Ms.
Veney’s steadfast focus on her own mental health is something others
will want to mimic. Her aim is tranquillity and patience, with an
emphasis on reprogramming her reactions, like her frustration with being
late.
She’s
also practical about doing whatever works to make her mother happy.
While Ms. Woodward had no taste for McDonald’s in her younger years, she
found it soothing for whatever reason once her decline began. Often,
the two of them would stay there for hours.
Finally,
Ms. Veney devotes a chapter to humor. Laughing with someone afflicted
with dementia can, in her view, be life-affirming in a period when joy
may be elusive. So we hear of her mother’s confusion over her new memory
foam slippers. How was something on her feet going to help her brain?
she wondered.

At
the end of one particularly challenging day out, the pair stopped for
dessert. When they arrived back at her mother’s group home where she had
lived for more than a year, she did not recognize it though she did
thank her daughter for the treat. “I just don’t remember where I live,”
Ms. Woodward told her daughter. “But of course I remember the ice
cream.”
Paying for the Nursing Home: Tell Us Your Story
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A version of this article appears in print on August 19, 2017, on Page B1 of the New York edition with the headline: Facing Dread Of ‘Inching Toward Oblivion’.
Readers' comments
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I started having an annual check-up after my husband died*. I did so for 10 years, then I quit while I was ahead. Now, at over 82, I am old enough to die; eventually, we all do so why bother with checkups?
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[* If you visit a cemetery, you may notice that married people often die within two years of each other. I was sure I was going to die. I did not die after all, and started gardening instead.]
How long should you live, how should you live and finally how and when to die is very personal.
Also, sky burial is an idea whose time has come. Let the vultures and condors feast!
The orders are written, the injection prepared, and the injection given. The dying person falls asleep, so deeply that he/she doesn't wake up for meals, and is sound asleep so never drinks from the glass of water by the bedside.
Unless there is an advocate for that individual, they will die: the advocate works in cooperation with the physicians and nurses to ensure that for the devout Christian believer, the tenets of that faith are respected, for that individual, it must be remembered, this earthly life is but part of life, and the end of life is the time when it is believed that as one life ends, a spiritual journey which we do not understand commences. An Anglican Catholic Priest.
The pope John Paul II° was tracheostomised 7 days before dying by Parkinson disease , setting the standard that it is better to survive miserably than rendering the soul to "God" peacefully ( not a neologism).
My educated guess is they had not made their mind up about his successor jet.
Better suggestions?
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The right to die in Belgium: An inside look at the world’s most liberal euthanasia law
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"Belgium has the world’s most liberal law on physician-assisted suicide, which is not just for the terminally ill. Patients with psychiatric conditions – and now, even children – can request euthanasia."
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MEGAN THOMPSON: As she opens the door to her home…this 34-year old Belgian woman known as “Eva” seems at ease. But actually she’s chronically depressed. More than once she’s tried to commit suicide. And now she’s asking doctors to help her. Help her die by euthanasia…all of it captured in a Belgian documentary.
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http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/right-die-belgium-inside-worlds-liberal-e...
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I didn't care much for Youth In Asia.
(a British punk band)
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NSFTL
Regards
The body is a mechanism; incredibly complex to be sure, but sooner or later it will be understood. The reversing of aging in humans *is* going to occur. The only question is whether or not it occurs in our lifetime.
In general, this assertation evokes rejection. I may be wrong, but I think this is because we are all resigned to death, and the proposal - as yet without any real justification - that it might not be so has the effect of bouncing us out of our settled and endurable resignation into a half-way state where we now *might* have the chance of avoiding death - but might not! an uncomfortable position, and one which we most most easily avoid by rejecting the original proposition.
Consider. Imagine I had proposed that mice would eventually be bred who live twice as long. Well, that doesn't cause an emotional reaction, I would say (and in fact, it has been done). Now imagine I might say we would work out how to solve the aging of skin in humans - we all still die at the same time, but at least we dont' wrinkle up :-) that would be remarkable, but again - it does not evoke rejection. Now finally imagine I say that if the solution to skin aging actually solves a whole class of aging in humans, and as a result we will live an extra twenty years - and youthfully - well, now we begin to be closer to my original proposition.
In fact, the body really is just like a car. It is a mechanism, and to use it is to wear it out. Aging is the accumulated damage of use, just as it is in mechanical devices. There is nothing special about figuring out what this damage is and undoing it. We still *age*, but we progressively work out how to *reverse* the accumulation of damage.
What this amounts to of course is the reversal of aging and the restoration of youth. Those who are old, and who carry in their bodies a great deal of accumulated damage, will see that damage reversed, and their bodies "youthen".
Aging in fact basically comes down to about six or seven forms of damage. For example, you accumulate "gunk" in your cells, and between your cells; the body as a byproduct of metabolising generates a range of end-products, and it knows how to get rid of a lot of them - *but not all*. Age-related macular degeneration probably originates in one of these by-products; if you could explain to the body how to get rid of it, the blind would literally see again. A startup in Edinburgh I think it is is now in stage one trials for a medicine to do just this.
If you're interested in this, have a look at the SENS Research Foundation. Disclosure : I contribute monthly, and I'm going (hopefully) to be doing voluntary work (software engineering in my case) on research programs relating to the subject.
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Our society is far more individualistic. And, as often as not, we die unattended and our passing becomes common knowledge only after a Third-World orderly sees that one's heart-line is flat. An MD is called, relatives informed and then a trip to the hospital refrigerator.
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The past also dignified our last moments and consoled both the dying and loved ones by carefully crafted rituals that located death in a vast cosmos. Last Rites provided a formula that made death a transition.
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Have you ever attended a "memorial service" to "celebrate the life" of an unbeliever? It is filled with enforced gayety ("He made people laugh.") Most attendees don't know what to do with themselves -- they sit in their folding chairs more or less embarrassed by it all. (One of these I attended a week ago consisted entirely of fifty-odd people watching a slide-show on a large, flat-screen TV -- it had all the intimacy of an informercial for time-sharing in Florida.)
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In the Catholic Requiem Mass, for instance, the deceased is prayed for as a member of a community of faith in which both the living and the dead find who they really are -- this community exists beyond time.
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This, to me, gives death meaning beyond "He made people laugh." (I remember one hideous "celebration" in which a speaker released wind-up toys among the mourners to accentuate the deceased all-around jolliness. It was like being sent to eternity from the "Buzz Lightyear" aisle at "Toys R' Us.")
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In our own time, Reality exits for the individual ("I have the right to control MY own body!") So, many go into eternity trailing clouds of nothing. Just a sanitation problem -- maybe it makes people laugh.
I read a couple of years ago the depressing news that nowadays in Britain the two most requested pieces of music at these events are 'My Way' and 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life'. Sad in two different ways, of course. Most of us, alas, don't live life 'our way' and muddle our way through our appointed term in one or other of the conventionally sanctioned forms society makes available to us. It's a poignant piece of posthumous self-deception to pretend otherwise to the bludgeoning bombast of one of Sinatra's worst songs.
The other choice, of course, is an example of the enforced gaiety you mention. Not even when grieving must we be allowed to drop our shallow flippancy. The first time someone chose it, of course, it might have been an act of cheerful defiance. Now it's just the sound of the sheep obediently acquiescing to the new commandment of our age - 'Move on'.
See a very useful paper from an exceptionally intelligent author: "Medical Nemesis - The Expropriation of Health" http://www.columbia.edu/itc/hs/pubhealth/rosner/g8965/client_edit/readin...