Old Age is Not for Sissies....

            Last Monday we took mother to the eye doctor for a check up. Having regularly been on top of doctor appointments it had been 10 months since our last visit. But then, we had not expected Mom to have a stroke in November and a fall and fractured pelvis this past March.  In an optimistic moment a week ago, I thought it might be a good to get her eyes checked.

             Art came with me to help with the wheel chair and between the two of us got her there.  Asheville Eye Associates has unquestionably the best ophthalmologists in this area. But it is a factory.  Never have I been more aware of this than I was on Monday.  There are at least a dozen doctors and I couldn’t guess how many people pass through here daily. The parking lot is packed at all hours and the waiting room is the size of a ballroom. When you check in at the front door you are directed to areas of the waiting room that go from Area A to at least half the alphabet.  Once in the waiting room, assistants come out all up and down the huge open room calling out patient names every 3 to 5 minutes.

          

            The afternoon turned out to be long and arduous especially if you are 94 and frail.  (This was not Mom’s first visit.) First, we had to wait for an exam room that would accommodate a wheel chair.  When she was finally called we had been waiting nearly an hour.  A young efficient assistant who was used to getting patients prepared to see the doctor quickly, updated Mom’s chart and medications and then set about testing her eyesight.  Darkening the room, explaining in her Southern accent to cover an eye and look up on the wall and read the letters.  Mom hesitated because she hadn’t heard her clearly… then said she couldn’t see the letters.  The assistant changed the line on the chart and tried again…”No, I can’t see that…” mother said.  She tried a third time and finally mother simply said, “I can’t read any of it”.  

There was silence, as the assistant was not quite sure how to proceed. After all, everyone can read something on the wall chart unless you are legally blind.  And mother is not blind!  How was she to record this on the chart?  Suddenly she excused herself and we were left in the dark room.  Back she came with the doctor who greeted us kindly, looked over Mom’s chart and ordered dilation.  He left.  The assistant dilated her eyes. Then we waited in the “ballroom” another half hour.  Finally back again, we sat in the exam room for another 20 minutes until I wandered into the hall to see if we had been forgotten.  No…there were a few people still around.  I was losing patience but Mom sat quietly in her “good girl” mode as she had all afternoon.  I wondered what she was thinking.

Finally Dr. Haynes came back and looked into Mom’s dilated eyes with a special instrument.  Then checking her chart he announced that there was very little change since the last time we’d been there.  Her eyes were fine, and neither the glaucoma nor the macular degeneration had worsened.  What a relief to hear that she was not going blind which was what we were thinking. When he addressed why she had not been able to read the chart he said perhaps it was “situational”.  I told him that this was one of the few times that my mother had even been out in “the real world” in the past 10 months. He had no idea of the significance of this. Before he left he said we must come back in 4 months so she could be checked again.

 

Just as he was leaving,  he did lean close to Mom, seemingly sensitive to the fact that she is hard of hearing, and reiterated, “You are doing fine.  You are not going blind.”  He spoke to her in a slow, loud voice as people do when they are talking to someone very old. Then he was out the door and on to the next patient.

At the checkout desk, we were given her “follow up” appointment for four months.  Art drove us through rush hour traffic while Mom sat quietly in the front seat.   She was already a half hour late for her dinner but didn’t say a word.  I sat in the back seat going over what we’d just experienced.  It was then I knew I would not be taking her back there…ever!  After all, she is not going blind…no need to submit her to that factory assembly line again.

The Next Generations

            Unlike most Americans, trips to Washington D.C. have become a regular event for us throughout the year as we visit the newest Aaronson – our grandson. Landing in the city after an hour flight from the mountains of Western North Carolina always catches me by surprise.  The skyline of the Capitol building, the Washington monument and the rooftops of the Smithsonian and other monuments on the Mall never fail to excite me.  After all, this is a world famous national capital!

            Having just returned, we can report that unlike most of what goes on in Washington these days, Hayden, Jessica and Austin are thriving.  Just a week ago we landed at Reagan National and headed for the Metro and the Yellow Line to Gallery Place, changed to the Red Line for the leg to Union Station. (We do this now as if we were seasoned commuters.) After lunch at one of the many station restaurants, we continued via taxi for the last 15 blocks to Hayden’s house in northeast D.C.  Each time we go we hope the new H Street trolley will be up and running from Union Station north.   It’s almost ready, they say. But not just yet…

            The first and most important reason for our visit was to see Austin who is almost 6 months old now.  And so we walked around the block to knock on the door of a pink stucco townhouse where Therese, the nanny was caring for Austin and Kyle.  She was expecting us but said Austin was napping and she’d bring him around when he woke up and so we left.  An hour later she was at Hayden’s door with a double stroller and Kyle and Austin awake.  We eagerly picked up Austin and Therese settled Kyle and we visited.

            Therese is Rwandan – a small black, middle-aged energetic woman less than 5 ft. tall who speaks broken English. Her eyes come alive when she smiles and she has that African kindness and gentle demeanor that we were so drawn to when visiting Uganda.  She smiles from the heart as she picks up each baby and cares for him as if he were hers. From our conversation we learned she had lived in Washington for a long time and her husband is from Benin and works as a driver for the Belgian Embassy.  As she was not blessed with children of her own she has devoted many years to caring for other people’s children – many of whom she stayed with until they were school aged and even teens.  She is organized and knows the value of a keeping to a schedule especially when charged with two 5 ½ month old babies.  Kyle and Austin share Therese and it all seems to work well.

 

White and adopted from California, Kyle is 10 days older than Austin and is more hyperactive. He lives with his two Dads just around the corner. Therese knows each baby’s personality and she told us that Austin is the quiet and calm one who has been nursed since birth.  Kyle takes the bottle and squirms around more.

Every two weeks Therese changes houses. Each house is well stocked with baby equipment.  Therese could just as well do without all the American baby gadgets as she knows what babies need and they manage perfectly well in Rwanda without all the “stuff” American parents seem to feel is necessary. (I was continually reminded of the “used” baby things we had with Hayden and how lucky we were to have them in Chile. Nowadays parents are told it is unsafe to have anything used.) However, Therese does like the double stroller for outings in the neighborhood.  At first glance Kyle and Austin in the side-by-side stroller could be twins. Sometimes she will get Kyle to nap by swaddling him on her back African style.  Austin, on the other hand, will happily fall asleep lulled by the motion of being pushed in the stroller.

Austin got used to us very quickly.  I was instantly mesmerized by his translucent inquisitive large blue eyes, which seemed to serenely watch everything going on around him.  He just draws you in with his gaze.  His soft white skin and blonde fluff on his head remind me of a “Gerber baby”. I don’t even know if they still exist. As a grandparent, it’s lovely to simply be there and watch Hayden and Jessica take care of him perfectly as they do.  Austin rarely cries except when he’s hungry.  Then he might just give a little mewling whine before Jessica swoops him up and “tops him off” as she likes to joke when she puts him to her breast.  He will go for hours just napping and gazing at the world, playing with his toys on his gym mat on the floor or bouncing up and down on his strong chubby legs on Grandpa or Grandma’s lap or simply being held lovingly by Mom or Dad.  I did hear him really cry at bedtime as his parents are trying to introduce him to going to sleep in his crib at night on his own.  That is hard and Austin hasn’t quite mastered that yet.

Visiting for a few days was a reminder of what a difficult job it is to be parents who work full time at jobs.  It takes patience and devotion in spite of sleepless nights – organization, planning, and flexibility to change course in an instant.  I found myself wondering if we once had the energy to do all of this when Hayden was a baby.   Did we really go through days sleep deprived but still crazy about our son?”  Of course we did.  But then 37 years ago we had much more energy than we do now.

While Austin was the highlight of our weekend in Washington, so was a rare family gathering of cousins who all happened to be in town when we were.  Jess and Hayden welcomed everyone to a barbecue on Saturday afternoon.  Megan, Hayden’s first cousin, and husband Cruz and 2 ¾ year old Noah just happened to be visiting the East coast from California and they came.  Cory, Hayden’s second cousin and husband Roberto and 1 ½ year old Arthur who have been in D.C. for several years but are moving to Texas next month also came.  Megan and Cory who are second cousins, grew up in California but had never met before and so it was a memorable reunion.  Roberto and Cruz discovered they both graduated the same year from U. of Texas from the engineering school.

 Thank goodness for Hayden’s backyard which is small but a rare amenity on Capitol Hill.  We had three little boys – at three different stages all being watched by their parents as we visited, took lots of photos, and had a lovely time together.  And I just basked in the fun of watching it all - this generation of smart, well educated, and fun young people all enjoying each other and their children .

Our weekend flew by and I stored up as much “Austin time” as I could - cuddling and holding him so that I can still feel him in my arms now that I’m home again.  As we drove back from Greenville, S.C. airport on Monday night through the lush green mountains to Asheville, Art and I talked about what perfect parents Hayden and Jessica are.  We agreed that it is wonderful for Austin to be cared for by an African nanny and learning to share with Kyle who is growing up in a gay family.   Austin will truly be in tune with the 21^st century world where people of all ethnicities, nationalities, beliefs and lifestyles are living closely together and accepting one another. 

Mostly, we basked in feeling appreciated and loved by Jessica and Hayden who always include us and make us part of their lives. As grandparents it’s nice to know they will always welcome family and keep their home open just as they did last weekend when we had our cousin reunion.  While world news often seems dire we come back from our Washington D.C. visits with optimism about the generations to come – especially about future generations of Aaronsons!