What if . . . .

     For the past seven years my aging and severely demented parents (now 90 and 95) have consumed a lot of my time and worries. Seems like every other month my sister is mailing-out umpteen copies of their POA documents to whoever won't give us information about our parents' lives. Seems like every month, there's an issue with their health providers, health insurance claims and assisted care facility contractors that are out of network, plus the re-balancing of their brokerage holdings according to changing tax laws on what is and is not deductible or taxable. Meanwhile, my parents are dancing (photo taken last month by Denise, the activities director).

While they were dancing, I was traveling down beautiful roads in La Lair . . . .

. . . I get a text "Time to schedule Ben and Alma's next check-up at Glaucoma Plus Eye Care". When my sister and I take them to a medical specialist, we'll remember this time to bring diaper bags with us. I'll not describe our last clean-up.

     These last five years traveling in La Lair, I've been rethinking this whole aging thing. When I got back inside La Lair after a stroll through Swallow Falls State Park, a beautiful park (Muddy Creek Falls photo below) . . . a text greets me "Update on your part-status" (La Lair needs a new DEF system, that dang troublesome diesel-thing again, much as I love diesel). This $3,100 part under warranty has been on back-order for over two months; the nuisance of ProMaster parts is irksome.  I wouldn't recommend buying a ProMaster if your wages and livelihood depend on it.

     Since being "homeless" after I sold my cottage in Texas last July, I've been back and forth between living at my generous sister and brother-in-law's house near the DC area and in La Lair. Outside the urban commuter nightmare of the DC area, Maryland and Virginia are beautiful wooded and mountainous states, particularly during the autumn months.

     While traveling down a beautiful country road in a light rain and fog . . . .

 . . . a text tells me "Claim invoice submission confirmation" and another one tells me "Time to schedule Ben and Alma's dental appointment". Most dementia folks stop brushing their teeth. There's a product for that - but those oral dental swabs need someone to gently remind them to swab their teeth. Dementia brings out an inner-child rebellion and they often refuse to shower and swab their teeth. Another rotten tooth pulled recently ($125), only 38 more to go. 

     I've been re-thinking my life when I'm in my 80s and 90s (almost there! can't procrastinate!). Where and how will I grow older? I have no children, but if I did, I wouldn't want them to take-me-in . . . an email pops up "Your subscribe and save subscription has processed" (my dad can't chew and swallow food anymore, so 90 bottles of a nutrition liquid are delivered to my sister's house every month saving us $$$, cheaper than the assisted care facility's prices). I use a dolly to deliver the boxes of bottles to my parents' assisted care facility. Spoil alert, everything is cheaper if you buy it yourself rather than permitting the assisted care facility to provide it at a premium cost.

     I casually asked the marketing folks at an assisted care facility in Waynesboro, Virginia, "Aren't you worried about the next generation's ability to pay these high costs?" Her answer? Yes, we're keeping an eye on it. I worry about the American way-of-life my grand-nephew (now in Amanda's belly, due in two weeks!) will experience when he has to take care of his parents. Will he be rich enough to pay these high costs?

     I don't know anyone who looks forward to living in an assisted care facility.  Nor do I want to live in an "independent community" of grandmothers (usually outliving grandfathers) who facebook/talk solely about their grandchildren and little else . . . an email pops-up from my sister who's traveling with hubby Barry in Alaska. Her subject line says "Dates I cannot take dad or mother to eye doctor appointments". She'll be traveling elsewhere next year . . . Mongolia and Kyrgyzstan. I could have joined her but there's just too much on my financial plate for the next year or so. We're jostling our parental duties and responsibilities with our personal lives; it's a bit stressful.

     So I've made a list of what's important to me as I age gracefully (and hopefully not dementedly) in my own home.

1. Walking distance to a public bus that will take me to doc appointments and grocery stores

2. Public bus transport to Amtrak train station so I can leave my vehicle in my garage long-term

3. Walking or biking distance to indoor swimming pool (and hopefully a jacuzzi too)

4. Walking or biking distance to public library for free movies and books

5. Maintenance-free home under 1,000 square feet of living space and well-insulated

6. Metal roofing and siding panels zinc-painted, never needing to be repainted or replaced.

7. Temperate climate for pleasant outdoor dining more than 250 days per year

8. Local community large enough to support in-home-aging assistance when I need it

9. Friends nearby who age with me and enjoy being independent (no hip-joined couples)

10. No nosey neighbors who will complain about my loud speakers (deafeningly awesome) when I feel like rocking and rolling with Mark Knopfler's "Walk of Life" or singing along with Patsy Cline's "Crazy" or doing an interpretive ballet/yoga dance with a very loud bagpipe

11. No neighbors who tie-up their dogs in backyards and let them bark all day and all night

12. No useless windows or interior doors in my senior home

13. One floor, lots of grab bars, and wheelchair accessible bathroom fixtures/shower

14. No useless furniture, no useless ornaments, no knick-knacks on display (no dusting)

15. Community of contradancers who gather regularly to dance but mostly to have fun (newly added to my list, as last week I had the unique experience of dancing with about 150 folks where some men flagrantly wore girly-girl skirts, and one old bearded skirted guy with hairy legs also wore cowboy boots and a Hawaiian shirt)

Am I dreaming the impossible to want all 15 to come true? Friends tell me I am.  But what if???

     What if there weren't covenants requiring a new home to be over 2,000 square feet? What if there were homebuilders willing to build a home less than 1,000 square feet?  What if architects' clients weren't suburban developers and were instead solo senior home-owners who want to live "small" and downtown? What if a home was designed to my needs rather than me adapting to a home's useless family features? What if solo senior citizens were the developer, the client, the designer, the home planner, the landlord, the tenant, and the law-maker? Maybe I could live to age 99 in my own home without needing an assisted care facility, eh? And so my thinking goes . . . while traveling down beautiful country roads admiring red barns.

     While traveling throughout Virginia this past fall, scouting for a lot in town to build on, I've slept on people's lots for sale, just to listen to night-time neighborhood sounds . . . one place had too many barking dogs. Not interested, thank you.

     I've slept inside La Lair on Walmart parking lots (photo above shows one Walmart autumn view shared with an RV lower left photo) and on several hospital parking lots with scenic views too. During the day, I've been swimming in the community's indoor swimming pool and walking around downtown. You'd be surprised how indoor swimming pools usually reflect the culture and friendliness or not-so-friendliness of its community.  Have also met with city building code folks; what's the minimum size of a new home (each town is different) and how much will all the various permits cost? Add another $8,000 to my costs to hook-up city water and sewer.

Found an abandoned home with asbestos; had an interesting lengthy discussion with an asbestos inspector. Learned a lot. Found a demolition contractor; had an interesting lengthy discussion with him too. The seller required him to sign a waiver of liability just to walk inside the abandoned house.

Met a new friend who showed me his concrete-block crawl space and why it's better than a concrete slab foundation. Talked with old friends about wall insulation products and why it's a good idea to hire a building consultant to double-check the homebuilder's work.

My mind is working overtime . . . not terribly blog-worthy!  Hopefully this is all good preventative treatment for dementia.