Oh, by the Way...: Life in a Retirement Home:Provocative, Innovative, Scintillating, Humorous

By Betty Jane Kimpton

Quoting Betty Jane Kimpton, 84 years of age, There is so much to live for and to be thankful for without looking on the dark side of life and the many ailments that come in our senior years. She is a person who enjoys making humor out of most situations and finds any subject to be a topic on which to pen a poem. Any word or subject is bait for one so apt to write poetry. It is with this thought in mind that this book has been written with the hope that others may enjoy fictional situations that can occur in any residence such as a retirement home or elsewhere. Her past vocations have been that of a grade school student writing poetry, a high school student writing drama that was acted out there, composing both poetry and music as the situations came up, a nurse, a wife and mother of three sons, a secretary, a you name it as she calls it. When asked what her vocation is now, she replies, I am a Household Executive!

OH, BY THE WAY . . . . . . . . . is a whimsical anecdote of life in a retirement community called a home. Narration has been made of various incidents taking place there, both humorous and serious. This has been interspersed with poetry written by the author and Christian quips that enhance the rendition of life as it has been, is and that which is to come.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 13, 2007
• ISBN: 9781465330925

Book preview

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The Time Had Come

Yesterday:

As we were sitting at the table for lunch, now what was her name? I knew it just a few minutes ago but right now I can’t recall what it is. Anyway, she’s the one who generally joins us for lunch. You see, we always (almost) sit at the same table, in the same chair, have the napkin nicely folded the same way, have the same silverware and have it placed in exactly the same places, have the same water tumbler with water and ice, have the paper place mats over the burgundy and tan table clothes and have the saucer with an upside down cup placed onto it. The cups DO change but most of the time they are the big heavy ones that make me drool over the sides when I use them. Unless I am very careful, that’s what really happens but I’ve told myself to quit complaining. At first when they were introduced, I would purposely go to other tables and get one that was not as heavy and the cup rim was thinner. It made for better sipping or drinking. It’s a good thing I bring my chain for the napkin so I can hook it under my chin, a little way down, to catch the drools and drips that come from what I’m drinking as well as the soup or anything else that may decide to land on my front instead of staying on the fork or in the spoon. Oh, well, they tell me that I’m not the only one who does those things but I like to think that no-one else is looking as I make those boo-boos.

Now, getting back to what’s her name, she was telling of how she had been threatened, prior to living here, with situations or characteristics that made her ripe for a home. What the qualifications were anyone could guess but we never want to openly admit that at times we may forget something but . . . who doesn’t? Or that other symptoms of getting older . . . , now I didn’t say OLD, I said OLDER. There is a vast difference. You can be in your forties and forget something and it seems natural but when you reach the ripe age of MUCH older, everyone seems to think your next bed will be in a place where you can be taken care of to one degree or another by someone else. Anyway, what’s her name had finally reached the point where her daughter thought that she should be in a home and as she and I were talking about it, we made fun of it even though it really isn’t funny. Whether it is called a home or something else, I have yet to hear it called a funny farm. However, as onlookers where gazing at us in amazement as we were enjoying our conversation, we erupted in gales of laughter and the onlookers probably thought we should be headed for the funny farm. So be it! We were enjoying making fun of our situation and we decided that if we can’t laugh and have fun and make fun of ourselves, what is there to live for . . . all the pills we have to take, having to drink out of cups that make us drool over the sides or forgetting a few names or places? If you think you’re immune, look out! it’ll come faster than you think!

There are many games that we have been told should be incorporated into our living here, games for when we are older:

1.   Sag, you’re it.

2.   Hide and go pee.

3.   20 questions shouted into your good ear.

4.   Kick the bucket.

5.   Musical recliners.

6.   Pin the toupee on the bald guy.

Later, thinking about the home, it encouraged me to write the following:

OH, BY THE WAY . . . .

I’m living in a home now, the symptoms showed the need

   To live a more sheltered life, new boundaries I must heed.

There are no deer nor buffalo as Home On The Range does state

   Nor are there chances, so remote, for special, special dates.

The dates that fill my calendar are more like doctors, pills and such.

   Must jot them down to remember, my memory to give a needed crutch.

My time is spent reminiscing about the days that used to be.

   No boundaries, no duties, only those pertaining to me.

The had to do and wanted to do . . . what did apply,

   No need to ask the reason or wonder or ever ask, Why?

The daily tasks were easy, the routine became a bore.

   Now, why would anyone live elsewhere or give up the daily chore?

A chair meant idle hours of which there were but few.

   The details of daily living, most everyone fully knew.

But . . . .

The time had come and gone, when abilities were no longer there.

   A change or some adjustment! The most pleasant thought, a chair!

A chair for weary bones, a chair for a frequent nap,

   This chair became my companion as my body every effort did sap.

Oh, where is the spunk and fervor that I once embraced and owned?

   Oh, where did I put that item? Oh, where? Oh, where? I moaned.

Could it be what has transpired has really taken place?

   I’ve lost my marbles and memory. Around friends I’m a real disgrace.

Their names I can’t remember or where I knew them from.

   Just why am I forced to recall? All these incidents make me numb!

Just why did I even come here? I’m as hale and hearty as can be.

   My eyesight may be dimmer but the necessary I do see.

See enough to please my senses, see less if there’s dust around,

   See enough to put on make-up and recognize that extra pound!

So what! . . . .

There are songs and more songs about homes, but none like this.

   There’s Home Sweet Home, my darling. Oh, what wonderful, wonderful bliss.

There are lies, more lies and big fibs about home, but none like here

   Where walkers and canes and scooters become one’s closest dear!

But . . . .

So be it ‘bout songs sung elsewhere. The one that I like of all poems

   Is the most truthful for all of us present.

   Please, Show Me The Way To Go Home!

We have been told that Old is When:

1.   Going bra-less pulls all the wrinkles out of your face.

2.   You don’t care where your spouse goes, just as long as you don’t have to go along.

3.   Getting a little action means I don’t need fiber today.

4.   Getting lucky means you find your car in the parking lot.

5.   An all-nighter means not getting up to go to the bathroom.

A potentially new resident was being shown through . . . through our home . . . by our Marketing Agent. They are usually with someone of another generation and we scan them, trying to guess their age, ability (can they walk?), alertness, neatness, mode of dress, or other things that could make them a desirable addition or one who would soon be requiring more care. However, none of us can determine that! It may come tomorrow or it may take much longer. Only time will tell. We wonder what the determining factor is for them to come here. They, for the most part, appear to be bewildered as if the scope of all that is involved is too much to bear. Fortunately, for many, the decision rests not with the new resident but with the one being shown through with him or her.

Having been through the same ordeal, we can sympathize with the person and the immensity of the future in a different location which has now presented itself.

Many of us were holding our breath as we didn’t want anyone to see Oliver and what he does. Instead of having a cherry put on his sundae, he asks to have croutons put on the top and he then qualifies it as a salad!

At noon, a good method for losing weight was told by Millie. She said the best and only way is to have your stomach stapled to your upper lip!

There are always those with ‘health tips’. It is hard to beat those that Josh comes up with. He said that his doctor told him that it is better for him to exercise for one hour a day rather than be dead twenty-four hours a day!

Several of us were discussing the difference in being tall, very tall or being short, very short. One of those present was very tall so, of course, we had to ask his opinion as if he had no other choice! He said that it was better to be very tall and he gave several reasons which the rest of us of normal height were prone to disagree with. Glenda piped up and said that from watching people around there, she felt that maybe it was better to be very short rather than very tall. When asked why she felt that way, she replied, Well, when one is very short they sit up to the table and there is very little room between the soup and their mouth so they are less apt to spill.

Wandering aimlessly through the halls or sitting in the lobby, sound asleep while holding a book, one could spot Grandpa. When the word, Grandpa, is spoken, whatever comes to mind best describes who this Grandpa is and what he looks like. The title . . . . Grandpa . . . is most befitting. It is unlikely that any has heard his last name and very few, his given name. He’s just Grandpa.

As we met this morning it was, Good morning. Good morning. How are you? Fine. How are you? Fine. Now I wonder who’s kidding whom.

He loves to corner anyone so he can give them a word of wisdom. This morning, he proceeded with his usual comments about the weather; what it was, what it is and what it is going to be. Then into the word of wisdom that so wisely comes from this unusual man. This morning it was, I may have a pain but I don’t want to be a pain. What an attitude! If we could all keep that in mind as we chat with one another. Most of us find it so easy to regale anyone and everyone listening, with our aches and pains and if not them, the pet which we care for.

Twice a week those with medical appointments are taken in the town car to their respective places, one day to the north and the other to the south. This is done within a specified radius. If appointments are on days other than those, the resident must plan for his own transportation unless it should be by, heaven help us!, through a 911 call and then both the ambulance and the firetruck arrive with medics and supplies. Sometimes they take care of the situation at hand, like helping someone who has fallen and determining if further care is needed or only help in getting up again. Many times the gurney takes someone out and we try to determine who it is as they so quickly transport them to the waiting vehicle. Finding out who is in the hospital or rehab and their condition is