At age 77, Leta once again began to plan for her future. She
lived alone on the second floor of a duplex. Her niece had been living on the
first floor, but since her nephew-in-law had recently passed away, her niece
was in the early stages of moving in with a daughter. Leta’s own daughter
Vivian was behaving as if she was more and more responsible for her care, even
though she was fairly healthy and strong. Still, she wore herself out by simply
keeping her house clean, and Leta did not want to burden Vivian or her son as
her physical capabilities declined.
Instead, with Vivian’s assistance, she would relocate to a
senior residence. For the most part, Leta understood that these were like
hospitals for the elderly to live out their final days, but they had
specifically selected those that provided a variety of activities for the residents
who were mobile and had their wits about them. Although she was almost always
tired, Leta had no intention or crawling into bed for the rest of her life.
After making a list of potential places, Leta and Vivian began
their visits. First on the list were the two Lutheran-based homes near
Vivian’s. Vivian, her husband Ed and family were Lutheran, and when she went to
church, Leta attended a different Lutheran parish where she could walk.
However, one of the prospective locations was too costly and the other was
poorly maintained.
They expanded their search, including a couple of residences
some distance from where Vivian lived. Although one seemed very suitable, the
travel time unsettled Leta. While she understood that Vivian would be
performing necessary actions, such as taking her to doctor’s appointments or
clothes shopping, and also be visiting regularly, she did not want to be so far
away that her existence would become a burden to her busy and dutiful daughter.
She also wanted to be close enough so
that her granddaughter-in-law and great-grandchildren would be able to visit.
Finally, they settled on a relatively new facility close to
Vivian’s home. The single story building was completed only three years earlier
and located on a large tract of land across the street from the city’s 190-acre
park. The rooms contained two beds, and
featured round-the-clock care. All meals were served in the dining room, and
there were several lounges and three outdoor patio or garden areas. Since Leta
liked to walk, these were particularly enticing.
Nonetheless, there were two complications. First, there was
a waiting list, and Leta would be twentieth on it. Second, the institution was
owned and operated by the Little Sisters of the Poor, a Roman Catholic order of
nuns. While the admissions director and the Mother Superior/Administrator
assured Leta and Vivian that the home was open to Protestants as well as Roman
Catholics, a significant amount of mild local prejudice and historic precedent
sent a contrary message.
With Leta’s name on the waiting list and little expectation,
they continued their pursuit of an alternative, even reviewing the previous
Lutheran facilities. Finally, after two months of searching and planning, they
reluctantly settled on a Methodist residence in Toledo, at least religiously
more comfortable, and near the University of Toledo, an area Leta had lived for
several years. However, the residence was a distance for both of her children to
travel.
“Ma,” Vivian said after the admissions director telephoned
Vivian to tell them that there was an opening for Leta, “this is a good offer.”
“But it’s so far to drive, Vivian,” Leta protested.
“Not really,” Vivian assured her. “The expressway will take
me right out there. It’s pretty easy.”
“I am concerned that it will be so many trips. You like to
stay in the East Side.”
“Yes, but I can drive out there. Sometimes we drive out
there just to eat.”
However, Leta still felt that the driving would be too much
for her daughter. While she was doing well, she could go without seeing her
daughter for a week at least, but what would happen when she became ill or
infirm. She would need Vivian there, and the strain might become unbearable.
“When do we have to answer?” Leta finally asked.
“I asked for a day,” Vivian answered.
“That’s all?”
“Ma, we already half-committed.”
“Yes, of course,” Leta said and went silent. Her mind was in
turmoil. “I’m tired,” she said. “Will you take me home now?”
That night she tried to sleep, but she tossed and turned.
Even turning on the radio failed to quiet her anxiety. She spent much of the
time arguing with herself. Why was she so
anxious about this? Now that an opportunity, a good opportunity, had presented
itself, was she actually afraid of going into the nursing home when she wasn’t
ready? That she would age faster there with all of those old people? Vivian
said she would drive. And her son Dale had called later that evening to
encourage her to make the move, assuring her that he, too, would visit
regularly, and take her where she needed to go.
But still she resisted.
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