Ponder the following events I’ve recently attended in Seattle:
Viking Days – an outdoor festival of many elderly Norwegians and Swedes reveling in their lingonberry pancakes – and it’s silent. Strangely silent. Pete had to explain to me that it was the sound of Scandanavians not expressing their feelings, and it was fine.
Indian Days Pow Wow – summer in Seattle with hundreds of elderly Native Americans wearing feathers, fur and down parkas, beating on drums – smiling, unlike the Norwegians – but also relatively silent.
Now, back to my roots, where I’m watching the longest running Woody Allen movie – my parents are very, very noisy, and it seems normal.
The latest – unwilling to part with any of their piles (see related news stories I’ve posted about hoarding), and desiring a place the size of a bowling alley, my parents have retreated into resistance and denial once again. There was a brief chapter where home-based nurses or cleaners were considered, mostly because the price tag seemed like a bargain compared to a residential facility. However, that phase has passed for now. I’ve been trying to prod them with active listening – “and what do you think will happen next”? “how does that make you feel”? It doesn’t work well with people who refuse to use technology such as hearing aids or a phone built after 1970.
I’m monitoring from afar, worrying about the next crisis, hoping they stay relatively safe.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Elderly woman found dead in trash-filled Skokie, Ill., home
Chicago Tribune July 21, 2010
CHICAGO -- A 79-year-old Skokie, Ill., woman was found dead Monday night in a home so crammed with trash, police said a hole had to be cut in the roof to reach the woman. Marie Davis was found under a pile of debris in the single-family home in the Chicago suburb, officials said. Skokie police were called to the house Monday and saw the woman's 54-year-old daughter at the front door, sitting on a 6-foot pile of garbage and screaming for help, according to Skokie Police Cmdr. Michael Ruth. The woman told police her elderly mother was dead inside, Ruth said. "There was so much garbage, it left about 2 feet of space between the pile and the ceiling. Apparently there were tunnels and the residents had to crawl on top of the debris to get around," he said.
CHICAGO -- A 79-year-old Skokie, Ill., woman was found dead Monday night in a home so crammed with trash, police said a hole had to be cut in the roof to reach the woman. Marie Davis was found under a pile of debris in the single-family home in the Chicago suburb, officials said. Skokie police were called to the house Monday and saw the woman's 54-year-old daughter at the front door, sitting on a 6-foot pile of garbage and screaming for help, according to Skokie Police Cmdr. Michael Ruth. The woman told police her elderly mother was dead inside, Ruth said. "There was so much garbage, it left about 2 feet of space between the pile and the ceiling. Apparently there were tunnels and the residents had to crawl on top of the debris to get around," he said.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
News Story: Chicago couple found buried alive under trash
from Associated Press 5-26-10:
Fire crews investigating a mysterious stench found an elderly couple buried alive under mounds of garbage in their Chicago home, authorities said Tuesday. The couple, in their seventies, were found Monday night, fire department spokesman Larry Langford said. The fire department team forced in the door of the South Side home and found an overpowering smell, piles of food waste and trash. A spokesman for Jackson Park Hospital, Margo Brooks, said the two were admitted and remained listed in critical condition at noon Tuesday.
Police had initially been called to the two-flat apartment building by neighbors who had not seen the couple in some time and wondered about their welfare. Police called in the fire department because of the stench and the team that entered wore hazardous materials suits. An 83-year-old neighbor, Hattie Fields, said the couple had lived in the building for years. Police declined to identify the couple. "I've been here since 1965 and I can't remember if they were here then or not," she said.
She said that she used to see the woman sitting on the front porch as she walked by but no longer could because the hedges had not been trimmed for years and had grown level with the second floor of the building, obscuring the view. She said she was fairly certain that no one else lived in the building, although there were unoccupied apartments on the first floor and in the basement. She said signs of neglect were obvious. "The back yard is also full of debris," she said. She said she used to see the man going out and getting in his truck to go to work in the morning, although not lately.
Fire crews investigating a mysterious stench found an elderly couple buried alive under mounds of garbage in their Chicago home, authorities said Tuesday. The couple, in their seventies, were found Monday night, fire department spokesman Larry Langford said. The fire department team forced in the door of the South Side home and found an overpowering smell, piles of food waste and trash. A spokesman for Jackson Park Hospital, Margo Brooks, said the two were admitted and remained listed in critical condition at noon Tuesday.
Police had initially been called to the two-flat apartment building by neighbors who had not seen the couple in some time and wondered about their welfare. Police called in the fire department because of the stench and the team that entered wore hazardous materials suits. An 83-year-old neighbor, Hattie Fields, said the couple had lived in the building for years. Police declined to identify the couple. "I've been here since 1965 and I can't remember if they were here then or not," she said.
She said that she used to see the woman sitting on the front porch as she walked by but no longer could because the hedges had not been trimmed for years and had grown level with the second floor of the building, obscuring the view. She said she was fairly certain that no one else lived in the building, although there were unoccupied apartments on the first floor and in the basement. She said signs of neglect were obvious. "The back yard is also full of debris," she said. She said she used to see the man going out and getting in his truck to go to work in the morning, although not lately.
Monday, May 17, 2010
It was supposed to be Moving Day
I should have known it wasn’t going to be this easy. If my parents don’t die peacefully in their sleep, I may consider killing them. No, not really.
To get up to date, a few significant events have transpired. First: my mother went into panic mode about moving to a retirement facility while my father was all gung-ho – a complete reversal of their stance 6 months ago. They cancelled the apartment, got back their deposit, and created a lot of drama. Second: they attempted to get the house ready for sale by hiring a contractor, which was a sobering challenge and only unveiled the tip of the iceberg. As soon as the wall cracks were repaired, there was a 7.2 earthquake in Mexico which created – you guessed it, more cracks. Mom felt the ground shaking, got dizzy, assumed her diabetes drugs weren’t working, and called the doctor to complain about the strength of her prescriptions. Third: Mom switched her primary care physician to someone more inclined to listen to her complaints (but located many miles away, requiring HMO-supplied transportation).
I tried a new tactic – offered to personally take ALL the stuff, so nothing would get dumped in a landfill or God-forbid another Goodwill bin; it would just be magically transported to my attic in Seattle. Yes, it was a little white lie. Mom’s response – “Why would you want all that junk?” This stumped me for a bit (why is she hanging on to 50 years of broken plastic if she knows it’s crap – clearly, it’s about security and memories, not the things).
Yesterday she told me that my father will only accept a community offering 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, large walk-in closets, 3 giant meals a day, etc. These places might exist for rich celebrities, but not for the common man. Of course the idea of anyone entering their current home to help clean or cook is simply not acceptable.
So where does that leave the story? Well I’m not offering any assistance or opinions for a while. Instead of visiting my parents, I’m going camping with friends in a heated yurt on the coastline of Washington (thank you Lisa). I’m waiting for the inevitable call about a fall or a heart attack, which will decide their fate. It’s not an amusing way to end this post, but it’s unfortunately it’s the next likely chapter in their lives.
To get up to date, a few significant events have transpired. First: my mother went into panic mode about moving to a retirement facility while my father was all gung-ho – a complete reversal of their stance 6 months ago. They cancelled the apartment, got back their deposit, and created a lot of drama. Second: they attempted to get the house ready for sale by hiring a contractor, which was a sobering challenge and only unveiled the tip of the iceberg. As soon as the wall cracks were repaired, there was a 7.2 earthquake in Mexico which created – you guessed it, more cracks. Mom felt the ground shaking, got dizzy, assumed her diabetes drugs weren’t working, and called the doctor to complain about the strength of her prescriptions. Third: Mom switched her primary care physician to someone more inclined to listen to her complaints (but located many miles away, requiring HMO-supplied transportation).
I tried a new tactic – offered to personally take ALL the stuff, so nothing would get dumped in a landfill or God-forbid another Goodwill bin; it would just be magically transported to my attic in Seattle. Yes, it was a little white lie. Mom’s response – “Why would you want all that junk?” This stumped me for a bit (why is she hanging on to 50 years of broken plastic if she knows it’s crap – clearly, it’s about security and memories, not the things).
Yesterday she told me that my father will only accept a community offering 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, large walk-in closets, 3 giant meals a day, etc. These places might exist for rich celebrities, but not for the common man. Of course the idea of anyone entering their current home to help clean or cook is simply not acceptable.
So where does that leave the story? Well I’m not offering any assistance or opinions for a while. Instead of visiting my parents, I’m going camping with friends in a heated yurt on the coastline of Washington (thank you Lisa). I’m waiting for the inevitable call about a fall or a heart attack, which will decide their fate. It’s not an amusing way to end this post, but it’s unfortunately it’s the next likely chapter in their lives.
Objects of Accumulation
This article has inspired me to get back to blogging! Thanks to Kathy for finding it and Larry for sending the link.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/25/magazine/25lives-t.html
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/25/magazine/25lives-t.html
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Clinging to the Barnacles
I’m sitting in the San Diego airport in a stupor, really looking forward to going home. Today was a big thrash – met with my parents’ primary care physician to get their DNR forms approved, asked him for referrals to other doctors in the town they are moving to – he had no idea, but he tried to use the online provider directory, messed up his computer connection, and asked me for assistance. There’s only so much helping I’m doing at this point. I politely told him I would do my own research. I actually found a decent doctor (I think), the same guy my mother also dug up from her phone calls, so we’ll see if that works out.
For 25 years the squeaky door in the “guest room” has been an irritant; it’s a challenge to easily sneak in and out. My quest to find a working can of WD-40 in the workbench pile was fruitless, so I used cooking spray instead. Fixed!
After wrestling old dusty purses from Mom, all with wadded up tissues inside (“but I might use them one day”), trying to make copies of keys that no longer are in production, and refusing offers of cut crystal dishes to slip into my carry-on luggage, I escaped.
Coming up on Thursday is an interview with a liquidator/estate sale organizer to see if my folks can offload any of their treasures for cash —and fortunately I’m not going to be present for that event. They’re on their own! It was set up by their potential realtor.
I’ll go back to facilitate the move and get things in order – but I need a long break.
For 25 years the squeaky door in the “guest room” has been an irritant; it’s a challenge to easily sneak in and out. My quest to find a working can of WD-40 in the workbench pile was fruitless, so I used cooking spray instead. Fixed!
After wrestling old dusty purses from Mom, all with wadded up tissues inside (“but I might use them one day”), trying to make copies of keys that no longer are in production, and refusing offers of cut crystal dishes to slip into my carry-on luggage, I escaped.
Coming up on Thursday is an interview with a liquidator/estate sale organizer to see if my folks can offload any of their treasures for cash —and fortunately I’m not going to be present for that event. They’re on their own! It was set up by their potential realtor.
I’ll go back to facilitate the move and get things in order – but I need a long break.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Running Low on Bananas
I’ve lost count of how many trips I’ve made to supermarkets to stock up on essentials: bananas, mustard, smoked salmon, pickles. My parents are hoarding food in 3 refrigerators – how will they ever downsize to one?
Today’s accomplishments: I managed to pack all the photo albums and ship them to Seattle. Donated a mountain of travelogue photos to the local library. Went with Dad to the bank to rearrange his accounts and ensure a free safety deposit box at any branch for life. Reinstalled his internet service after he accidentally removed it. Talked to 2 real estate agents and showed them the extension cord curtain in the garage. One agent was excellent, sensitive to geriatric issues, and paid attention to detail. The other agent was pathetic. For a total of 4 hours, we all learned about plumbing, floods, termites, and other plagues that will deflate the market price. Then we managed to go to dinner, after the frantic daily hunt for the house keys. Dad was frustrated that he couldn’t find his favorite jacket – and I had a growing dread that I stuffed it in one of the donated sacks of clothing. I was on the verge of confessing when it turned up in the bathroom.
Future options include an estate sale, an auction, a painting party, and/or a landscaping intervention. I had previously promised to drive all the tools (see picture for just a slice of the inventory) up to Seattle in a truck. The latest plan is to rent a van to transport everything not picked over to my friend’s house one hour away and hold a giant garage sale on his front lawn. I’ll have to pretend to be on the road for a few days, no one will be the wiser if you all can keep a secret.
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