Our Life in Sun City

                                   


It has been six months since my husband and I moved to Las Vegas, NV, home of Sun City Summerlin.  The time has passed quickly, mostly being taken up by unpacking,  sorting, and setting aside loads for the Las Vegas Rescue Mission (whose driver now gives me a hug). And of course, with Ken as my cheerleader ("Come on, you'll enjoy it") we are meeting new people.

We have joined a wine group attended by individuals who think the more spent on a bottle of wine, the better it is.  Obviously, they've never been to a Grocery Outlet or had an expert like R.B. teach them about wine. After an email informed members they couldn't spend less than 18 dollars on each bottle they brought to the next gathering, I asked my cheerleader how fast we could get back home to The Dalles.

Ken wanted to relocate to a place on the planet that rarely, if ever, sees snow and ice.  Since we were familiar with Sun City, this was where he thought we'd be content to live. Friends know how I responded to that notion; suffice it to say, it was a stressful time.  One refreshingly honest pal suggested I stay put and not go anywhere.  "Why would you move to that God-forsaken city?", she asked (took the words right out of my mouth).  The only legitimate response was, "I love him". I should have added, "Besides, he does the grocery shopping".

We were here only 3 months when my attitude about Vegas changed.  While thousands of people were enjoying an outdoor country music concert, a mad man shot and killed 58 people and wounded over 500 more.  I continue to be moved by how quickly the Vegas community gathered together to help every family and individual who was impacted by this tragedy.  Immediately, they built a memorial; hundreds came to remember and mourn the victims and support their families. Out of respect for them, I will never again criticize this town (except for drivers who confuse city streets for the NASCAR track). Strangers helped the wounded get to safety; and the Review Journal highlighted each one of the 58 during the following weeks.  Sadly, it took an horrific event to learn  there is a lot more to Vegas than  'Disneyland on drugs', as my younger son once described the Strip.

When we first arrived in Sun City, we were met with temperatures high enough to bake a cake.  And more recently, we had winds that easily rivaled those in The Columbia River Gorge. I never saw Mitzi pee so quickly and dash for the house.  I was thrilled when Ken explained that the winds were bringing in a cold front.  And when the cold arrived (37 degrees), I was just as thrilled to have kept my wool garments.  I happily retrieved my  sweaters, shawls, and scarves, all hand-knitted apparel I was beginning to think I would never wear again.

Sun City is a very active community.  Right away, my husband joined a men's group that toured the Nevada Test Site.  Soon, they will be headed to Creech Air Force Base, which is a test site for drone warfare.  After all the war-related stuff, I think they ought to go to Sherrie's brothel for a change of pace. It's not all that far away; and they've done it before.  Ken was told they had a whopping great turnout.

I've tried to be social, as social as an introvert can be; but I much prefer working in my new studio to socializing.  I love looking out on our back yard, with its majestic palm trees, flowering plants of all kinds, quail families looking for tidbits, two recent coyotes passing through recently (Mitzi is never out of our sight, in spite of the fence all around), and rabbits, who live under our hedges.  I was delighted when a heron flew over our yard one day.  I wondered where it would feed, because after all, we live in the desert.  Just the other night, Ken and I heard an owl in one of our trees.  It was music to our ears.  Nature has helped me get through this transition.  During my obsession with all that is wrong about living here, namely the hellish summer heat, I had forgotten that the desert is alive and beautiful.  I'm still waiting to see a roadrunner.

I miss the Columbia River, with all its resident birds, so I am grateful that just down the road from us there are three man made lakes that are home to fish and ducks. Fish-eating birds have plenty of dining opportunities in Vegas; and of course, there is always Lake Mead to the south of us; so I won't worry about the heron.

I love winter, but I am learning to gradually appreciate the climate here.  The other day, I walked home from my new hairdresser's, which is just a few blocks away.  Half way home, I realized I will never have to worry about slipping on black ice and suffering another concussion.  Now, there's something to shout about.

Before too long, I'll be putting my wool stuff back in the cedar chest and getting ready for our next hot spell in Las Vegas. I'll try to think positive and focus on the cultural and natural opportunities here. At the same time, I'll be keeping my eye on Alaska.



 (c) Sally Zuck McBain

The Many Faces of Soul Portrait

Soul Portrait was born out of my experience as admissions coordinator in a 120-bed nursing home. During a short span of time, I learned one of the greatest lessons of my life: we all want to be known, appreciated, and loved for who we are.  It took this experience, along with 25 years of working in the community on behalf of elders, families, advocates, and caregivers, to help me understand how critical it is for each of us to open up and share more of ourselves.

Soul Portrait is about making aging personal and having a voice in our health care.  Unlike living wills or health care directives that specify what actions should be taken for our physical health (including life support measures), Soul Portrait is about going deeper and revealing some of the things that enrich our life or present us with challenges.  It's a communication tool that encourages us to share more of who we are with family, close friends, medical care providers, and potential caregivers.  As a result of knowing us better, every one of these people will be empowered to advocate for us and support our quality of life. 

Soul Portrait also helps us learn more about ourselves by answering relevant questions and reviewing the life we've lived.  For example, when was the last time you thought about the little things others do for you that make you know you are valued, respected, and loved?  For me, it's when someone listens to me with their full attention. Because of Soul Portrait, I was able to think about how and why that means so much to me, and whether or not I give others the same respect.  I got the answers I was looking for when I reviewed how the issue of listening has played a role in building up or tearing down past relationships.  

Aside from health care advocacy and learning more about yourself through reflection and life review, there are other great uses for Soul Portrait.  Whether you are in a new relationship or one that has lasted 40 years, there is usually something you'd like to share with the other person that doesn't roll right off your tongue; Soul Portrait helps you express it.  If you have an aging parent, Soul Portrait is a great way to start the dialogue about his or her future (which involves you).  Maybe you work with older adults and know you can deliver better care but aren't sure how to go about it; or perhaps you are approaching old age yourself and have wondered how you can breathe life into your name on the family tree.  Soul Portrait can help.

Soul Portrait is a simple approach to making soul connections and fostering compassion for yourself and others.  Along with my experiences, reflections, and tips, there are many topics to think about --potentially interesting and revealing topics that can generate meaningful discussions with those you love, or enlighten those who may someday play a role in your health care.  Inside Soul Portrait, you will learn about my father, a fiercely independent man who would have preferred death to being dependent on someone else.  You'll read about Maria, an elder whom no one knew, and with whom no one could communicate.  There is a letter to men, written by a male friend of mine who wants to assure men this is not just a book for women.  You'll learn ways to complete your own Soul Portrait or help someone else create theirs.

If you want to learn more about the people you love, Soul Portrait makes a thoughtful gift.  And finally, if you want to express more of who you are to those same people, Soul Portrait is a gift you can give to yourself.

(c) Sally Z McBain

The Art of Aging

I've been writing about anchors that keep me grounded in the face of changes attributed to aging, some of which have thrown me for a loop. It happened fast; by no small miracle, I jumped from 40 to 65 in the blink of an eye.  Each day is a reminder I have less time left than I have already lived -- a sobering thought.

After a few weeks of being sullen and withdrawn, I was getting bored with myself and decided I'd had enough of the self-centered negativity.  Determined to do something about my attitude, I searched my life for all the things that keep me grounded in reason and make me happy.  I re-discovered the importance of exercise and friends, two anchors that keep me from drifting into a droopy, depressive state of being.   In the last couple days, I've identified five more anchors, without which I'd be aimless and more self-absorbed than ever.  The first three fill my creative needs; the fourth takes me out of my head and into action on behalf of others; and the fifth ties them all together.

                                                       

Art, writing, and photography keep me focused and challenged.  When I write something that comes together well, paint a flower that closely resembles the real thing (or matches my imagination about it), sketch the image of an animal, or take a photograph that captures morning or evening light, I'm filled with joy.

My interest in writing and photography started in earnest back in 1986, when I first moved to the Columbia River Gorge.  I knew I had landed in heaven, and I was driven to express the feelings of wonder that overcame me every day.  That relocation also marked the beginning of a painful transition; I had become a long-distance mother.  I wrote in journals as if there were no tomorrow, and then I moved into the world of poetry.  Both methods of writing got to the heart of my awe, and at the same time, tended to my emotional wounds.  

It has only been in the last decade that I started getting serious about water colors.  With each effort, I get better.  With each painting, I tell the little girl in me who felt she had no talent, she doesn't have to envy LC from elementary school any more.  When I go into an art gallery, however, and see what other artists have accomplished, I shrink back in humility.  Still, I try not to compare; my art is just what it is....my art. 

What I know for sure is that my own personal best will come when I paint every day, rather than when the mood suits me.  Since I was born in autumn, I start re-evaluating my life in late September; it's my time of renewal and my favorite season of the year.  I delight in the array of gold, orange, and burgundy; brave flowers that hold on until they can bear the cold no longer; an angled sun that gently brightens and softens wet leaves and boulders; and a harvest moon that shines through our bedroom window and prompts my nightly prayer.  By the time January arrives and others are committing themselves to New Year's resolutions, I am well on my way.  By early November, my goals are set.  This year, one of them is to make more room in my life for painting.

I'm beginning to see aging as an art form of its own.  I'm the artist who takes advantage of natural light to bring out the contrasting shadows, who makes my composition dynamic and interesting, simply by choosing the right perspective, and who throws on as much color as I can.  Like art, life is all about practice and trying to get our work to look the way we want it to look.  We screw up and try over again, but we remember our mistakes and learn from them.  I rarely throw a painting away; the really poor ones are my teachers, just as my life-mistakes have been.   

My fourth anchor is volunteerism; and it has taken several years to value its role in my life -- enough to finally do something about it.  All communities thrive through the work of  volunteers, and this community is no exception.  We are blessed with people who give of their time and talents to our youth, disabled, elderly, homeless, veterans, and others. Volunteering gets me out and about, meeting incredible people and making new friends.  I never cease to be amazed at how connected we all are, no matter the role we play.

Exercise, friendships, writing, photography, art and volunteerism will steady my life as I age; and I am grateful for them.  Gratitude, my last anchor for now, balances the fear and dread that come with the unknown.  Expressing thanks is the most important anchor of all; and it strengthens my faith that all is as it should be.     

There is no way I can know what the next few years will bring and what challenges will be set before me.  But I have today, and I'm relieved I broke through that terrible feeling of loss and anxiety.  My anchors have always been here, and they will continue to keep me grounded if I'm receptive to them.  Therein lies the greatest challenge of all; but I am more determined than ever to make the best of this life I have.  

                            
                      Oh Sis.  Let's enjoy our old age as much as possible.    CZJ


Author's note:  I write this post as millions of people suffer the losses caused by severe, powerful, and devastating weather.  Homes are gone, people have died, and life will never be the same.  My prayers and thoughts go out to each and every one.  That I can sit in my comfortable studio and think about my own challenges is a blessing in itself.  Life is one hit after another; yet somehow, through our anchors and faith, the human spirit is able to rise above it all. 

(c) Sally Z McBain

Friends

                    Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver and the other gold.

Special friends

                               


 Introverts are known to have fewer friends than extroverts.  For me, it's about a limited energy level and wanting to engage in deeper one-on-one relationships, which also require more time.  Sometimes, and this is one of those times, I am reminded of the special role each friend has played in my life.   

There was Sally (her husband had the same first name as my husband and they lived next door to us), who listened to me process my first divorce.  On many occasions, I'd wander over to her kitchen for coffee and a conversation that was always about me.  She never advised, inserted an opinion, or judged; she just listened and supported me during the most difficult phase of my life.  

There was Diane, a new friend who loaned me money when I was down to my last few dollars, telling me to take my time paying it back.  Through her trust and generosity, she literally pulled me out of hell.  Women like Sally and Diane have blessed my life over and over again in the last 45 years; without exception, they helped define me.

These last few weeks have been difficult (refer to entries Anchors and Aging and Twelve Questions); I've been down in the dumps and fearful of the future.  It all began when I looked in the mirror and studied the deeper lines, disappearing eyes, and sagging skin.  My changing appearance became much more than mere vanity; it represented the harbinger of things to come.  At that very moment, I knew I was entering a new and challenging phase of life, fraught with all kinds of change and loss.  I knew I'd better embrace this process and all that comes with it, or be disappointed and depressed the rest of my life.  All of a sudden, and not knowing where to start, there appeared an emotion so strong, I felt like I was being dragged out to sea by an undertow.

It took a long walk with a confidante to realize how vital my friendships really are and how they serve as one of my anchors.  Like my friend, Sally, my close pal listened for a full mile or more as I told her what I was putting myself through.  A couple times a month, we walk on a park path that is just about a mile around; and if we have a big topic to discuss, we measure its importance by how many rounds it will take to sort things out.  That being determined, the other person is all ears as the ground is laid; and at some point, she is informed enough to ask gentle questions or share her wisdom pertaining to the issue at hand.  Often, we joke about the other's agenda and ask just how many rounds it will take to get to the heart of the matter, knowing full well, time is not an issue.  We put the other first in all those discussions, and we do it fully present for one another. 

My friends have given me gifts of generosity, compassion, kindness, and love (and a large dose of patience), asking nothing in return.  Without them -- friends from early childhood, school, college/post-graduate studies, and my jobs; friends who were mothers of my sons' friends,  neighbors, or wives of my husband's colleagues -- I would not have learned how to be a friend myself.  These women are not only anchors that keep me grounded; they are my teachers and mentors.  

A new friend recommended a video done by Shawn Achor (www.ted.com/speakers/shawn achor.html).  Achor (in some places, 'Anchor') is the ceo of Good Think Inc., who teaches  positive psychology.  I was struck by one thing he said about social support: it is the greatest predictor of happiness and success.  But, he adds, when it comes to social networks like Facebook, the friends who add most to our lives are the ones we've actually met. 

I've been all over the map with Facebook, not knowing whether to silently slip away or stick with it.  My real friends draw me back in, mainly because I want to see their lives evolve through photos and comments.  Looking at the precious photos of Nancy's granddaughters provides me with enough happiness to last several days.  It's inspiring to see how well Robyn is adjusting to a new town - with energy I envy; and it's inspiring to watch, in real time, Jan brave chemo with strength and courage, continuing to do what she loves.

There are times I forget that friends are critical to my sense of self and well-being, that each one brings a happiness and supportive element to my life that I couldn't get elsewhere.  Each one accepts me for the hermit I am, which adds to my joy. 

Walking and talking with my friend gave me a boost -- so much so, that I was reminded how much I value all the sensitive, caring women whose paths have crossed mine....and how much I need them still.   I can only hope, in some small way, I have given them something in return.  What I owe them now, is to keep their legacies alive in all the friendships I continue to value and try to nurture.  



(c)  Sally Z McBain



 

Twelve Questions

                                                              


Row row row your boat, gently down the stream.  Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.    Children's nursery rhyme


To celebrate my 65th birthday, I'm going on a retreat.  I want to answer questions I've been asking myself for a long time, but have not fully answered.  Most of us know the glee of being away from phones, e-mails, have-to's, and anything else that distracts us from getting something done.  I need to face myself and my fears so I can move into a space of acceptance, self-confidence, and discovery.  Though they sound like a trite list of words, what I really want is inner peace and joy as I age; one cannot survive without the other.

The vanity issue I addressed in my last entry (Anchors and Aging) leads me to a tale of two older women.  I remember one homebound elderly client, tears welling up, who told me she no longer looked in the mirror.  She couldn't stand to see how she had aged, and she hated herself; she said she was 'disgusting'.  Her solitary confinement (dictated by disability and depression) made it worse, since she didn't see people who could validate her and give her reasons to celebrate life. 

My sister tells me her neighbor says the same thing about her face and body.  She avoids looking in the mirror so she doesn't have to think about it.  Rather than focus on her physical appearance, she moves ahead with her life.  These two women were/are in their late 70's; one was depressed, while the other is in a place of either contented resignation or mature acceptance.  Either way, she isn't miserable, nor is she isolating herself from others.  I have a feeling my sister's neighbor has several anchors in the water, many of which I shall be able to claim as my own...eventually.

Following are questions I will ask and answer before I go much further.  I realized I needed to come up with these questions after I wrote to a family member:  I'm doing a lot of personal work, mainly with self-acceptance.  I have been spending a lot of contemplative time assessing my sense of purpose, figuring out what I have yet to contribute to society, and thinking of ways I can give my creative self more space to grow.  Though in my heart I know differently, I feel like I'm entering this incredible new phase of life without much grounding.   I'm changing before my very eyes, and I want to meet those changes with strength and confidence.


What am I doing when I'm happiest? 
How can I rein in my constant need to accomplish something?
What do I love most about my life right now?
Where and from whom do I get my inspiration?
How have my priorities changed and am I giving due attention to them?
What is one new and/or positive thing I have learned about myself this last year?
What messages about me, or expectations from others, can I finally release?
How am I being true to myself?
What power am I going to give to the role money plays in my life?
What can I do on a daily basis that will help me deal with forgiveness, old guilt, and fresh sorrow?
How can I honor my introversion and still be present for those I love?
What do I feel the need to finish or do before I die?


I received several touching e-mails after my last blog entry, three of which were written by individuals on either side of 40.  Each person wrote about the challenges he or she is facing and how those relate to getting older.  As we age, it seems many of us become more introspective, realizing each day is a gift to be opened with care and thought.  We want, more than anything else, to be able to say, "I gave it all I had, and lived my truth in the process".

I am happy to report (though I'm still self-conscious about its seemingly rapid progression), I am no longer obsessed or depressed about the notion of looking old.  What I am, however, is determined to make these next 10 or 20 years as meaningful and rich as I can.  I want to be aware of what I'm feeling and doing, so this incredible dream becomes one I will remember when I'm on my last legs, and not one I forget because I spent too much time madly rowing.  In order to take in the beautiful scenery, I will need to lower another anchor. 

Next time:  my second anchor and how a friend helped me find it


(c)  Sally Z McBain

Family Advocacy

In the long term care business, advocacy is critical to providing the best care.  In conjunction with orienting new residents and families to nursing home schedules and protocol, the service of a professional advocate would have been helpful to my family during Mother's four years in and out of the assisted living and long term care facilities.

I experienced the need for an advocate when I complained to top administration in between my mother's nursing home stays.  Several times, I encouraged my father to get home-based help.  I called the head of the home care program to set something up.  After three unreturned calls, I gave up.  At the height of my frustration, I wrote a letter to his boss, the chief executive officer.  I received no response.  If you've gone directly to the top without satisfaction, what other recourse do you have?  Like many tired and stressed out caregivers, I was at my wit's end.  My parents were residents of an aging community that offers a wide range of services to which they should have had immediate access, but we were blocked from getting them.

A family advocate would have been an answer to a prayer.  An advocate would have followed up on our behalf.  In many health care centers, patient advocates come in the form of case managers, often connected with Medicaid.  Private pay residents, on the other hand, usually have to make their way through the system on trust.  It is the case manager who co-ordinates services for elders bouncing around on the contiuum of care; and it is because of the presence of state-funded case managers that I have always thought residents on Medicaid were assured the same basic services and care as those provided to private pay residents.  I have not researched the presence of private case managers today; but five years ago, there were none in the area my parents lived. 

An advocate would have done wonders for our comfort level; instead, we had to be ever vigilant ourselves.  I'm sure staff were very frustrated with my dad and me at times.  We asked a lot of questions and had a lot of concerns about my mother's care.  Sometimes, assurance is all a family member needs; but when real problems occur, the advocate would also serve as a liaison to medical staff.  There are patient advocates (i.e state ombudsmen), but families need advocates, too.

Family members have to keep an open mind and do their best to appropriately connect with the peole who are providing these critical services.  If there is no professional or volunteer family advocate available, it falls on staff shoulders to let us into their world without making us feel like we are an intrusion.  

Busy people are intimidating; doctors and nursing home staff are always pressed for time.  Unfortunately, in a hectic work place, we encounter professionals and employees who avoid eye-contact, who don't smile, and who are in a hurry to get somewhere.  They put us off; and whether consciously or unconsciously, this may be their intent.  When I worked in a facility, I too, was guilty of rushing up and down hallways, hoping no one would come between me and my destination.  Time was short, and every encounter, intense.

Family advocacy is the answer; a consistent, friendly, "I'm here-for-you" attitude is all some of us need.  An advocate would help family members navigate the system, or facilitate communicaiton when there is a problem.  Many families don't need a thing; others, like mine, needed more support and information.

Most importantly, an advocate would provide the soul connection we all need.  Volunteer programs can train advocates to listen and follow through.  The advocate doesn't necessarily have to be a nurse, case manager, social worker, or chaplain, though advocacy is a natural part of their jobs.  An advocate can be an empathetic communicator whose main role is to help families make sense of life in a long term care facility.


(c)  Sally Z McBain

Nursing Home Families

I used to believe families who didn't visit their institutionalized relative were uncaring; and I judged them harshly.  I knew nothing about them or their lives, yet I judged.  So many elders are lonely; and volunteers and staff try their best to help.  But watching an older adult sit for hours at the door or window, waiting for someone who isn't coming, is heart-breaking; it always made me angry. Obviously, as a new admissions co-ordinator, I had a lot to learn about families.

After taking the time to get to know family members, it was clear my judgement was unfair, and in most cases, unfounded.  Family members who purposely avoid the nursing home are rare.  They are faced with many challenges:  dealing with their own health issues, trying to raise children or earn a living, or having to travel great distances.  Elder care facilities are a necessity for those who can't check in on a regular basis, let alone take care of their loved one at home.  At best, a daughter or son may only have time to visit once a week.  Sure, there is the occasional avoidance of an uncomfortable situation when a family member says, "I don't want to go in there any more than I have to; it's too depressing."  But most families do their best; they agonize just as I did when my mother was a resident; and they visit when they can.

On the other end of the spectrum are family members who regularly enter the long term care facility to check on a relative.  A 70-something daughter good-naturedly told me, "While my friends are taking cruises all over the world, I'm cruising to and from the nursing home."  Another daughter came twice a day, every day, to feed her 90-year-old mother.  She knew the older woman needed loving, relaxed attention during hectic meal times; in general, however, she was not convinced her mother was getting the best care possible.  There always seemed to be a shortage of staff, which meant some residents had to wait for help; and she wasn't going to chance it.

These two women and my father, who was at my mother's side most of the day, every day, are the ones who have something to contribute to institutional culture.  They are part of the connective tissue holding the system together.  A wise head nurse once said to me, "We send our children to school, but do not presume the teachers will take over total responsibility for their rearing.  The same is true for nursing home care.  Families can't expect a nursing home to meet al the needs of a resident.  It isn't that they don't want to; it's just one of those facts of life.  Staff have to focus on a resident's physical health needs first." 

The trouble with encouraging family involvement is that family members can be time-consuming and an emotional drain on staff.  Some relatives are tenacious in their quest for answers and solutions.  If they get nowhere with line staff, they head for the director of nurses or administrator.  Starting out on the defensive, the relatives gird themselves for condescension and excuses. From the get-go, there is fear and distrust.  There are others who prefer to complain to a staff person with whom they have bonded, but who then has to take the message to a supervisor, who has to take it to the next level -- all of which takes a lot of time, reassurance (sometimes, false reassurance), and tact.

As long as they are appropriate and non-threatening, family members are entitled to intervene on behalf of a relative who may be frightened of retaliation or too weak to advocate for herself.  Sometimes, however, staff do not view angry family members as appropriate; and they don't always know how to work with them.  Tragically, nursing homes have been known to bar an aggressive family member from their premises.  If a resident cannot see her closest relative, what is the effect on the resident's overall health and well-being?

Open and honest relationships, along with quick attention to problems, are two major ways to avoid misunderstanding or confrontation in a long term care facility.  There were a couple cases where, had it not been for my good relationship with the head nurse on Mother's floor, I would have called the state omudsman to report neglect.  My concern about a call bell that hadn't been fixed for at least two weeks should have been a priority.  Instead, I had to mention it several times, while trying to calm my parents each day we waited and were told it was being worked on.  This highly respected nursing facility finally provided us with a door bell that sat on her night stand.  The bell did not ring through to the nurses' station; but we were told they would hear it if they were in her hallway.  If they were in her hallway?  On many occasions, and for stretches of time, her hallway was empty. 

This episode did not make any of us comfortable, given my mother's increasingly deteriorating health needs.  She was discharged before the call bell was repaired.  Any trust I had was gone; and when it came time for her to return the last week of her life, even with a Hospice nurse coming in now and then, I was more watchful and present for her than ever.

Families don't just sit around and think up things to complain about.  They complain for good reason, and it is incumbent upon the rest of us to listen carefully and act on those complaints immediately.  It takes a concerted effort on everyone's part to tame emotions and solve problems.  For the family member who has stepped over the line, who has no time to participate in a parent's care, or who is coordinating care from three thousand miles away, there should be a family advocate.


(c)  Sally Z McBain