Mom's now in one room. One Room. It signals to her that which is inevitable...that which we do not mention...that which everyone tip-toes around. She is in her FINAL place, and she wishes she had known before she ended up there, as she thinks something else could have been done, some other option tried. One day she was in her apartment, the next in the hospital, then transitional care, and then this....the SENIOR CARE UNIT. My sisters did the best they could. At the time, she was too far gone, too close to death, too weak, to think about any other idea. Now that she's stronger, I'm sure they may have had a few back-tracking moments, maybe not.
In my work with IB, I've seen with my own eyes how someone can go from near-death to a sort of thriving within a couple of years...when most their age are going downhill, she is rising...waking up. Mom is one of the downhill gals, I'm afraid. And she knows it. And is, as she has been for what seems like ages, ready for it.
I think about the physical and pchychological aspects of the One Room. Mom is bothered by the fact that she did not have control of what she might bring...and that has my mind going, often as I'm out walking Bubba, letting my thoughts float around. If I had say, one day to decide what I would like to bring with me to my One Room, what would I bring? The functional and the thought-provoking. God, only One Room. Would it be possible to create a studio in a nursing home? One Room that was a functioning studio with a hospital bed in it? Probably not. I am thinking almost daily about the need to figure out something else by the time my time comes to move into constant care. A studio assistant/home caregiver, perhaps? Shared living/studio quarters with other old artists, with a shared home caregivier would also be nice. A barn should be in that picture somehow. I just don't think One Room is going to be enough for me.
