Cal.E.'s Korner

“As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.”― Seneca

d.: I decided to give Cal.E. and the silliness we sometimes have in this blog the day off, and I put one of my favorite quotes from Seneca at the beginning of this blog post to introduce today’s main theme.

As some of you who are personal friends of mine and some of you regular readers are aware, I lost my mother earlier this year. I think, though, that her life epitomized Seneca’s quote. She was ninety-two when she died. She didn’t linger in poor health, like many people do, and was always willing to help those in need. This was often at her own expense in time or money, which she never griped about.

My grandmother was around the same age as my mother when she died almost thirty years ago. She also went quickly when she got deathly ill. Although my mother never officially gave up driving until her death, my grandmother did when she realized she didn’t have the reflexes to avoid an accident that she didn’t cause. She was far from a shut in, though, after she gave up driving. Even in her last years, when she couldn’t get in and out of vehicles easily, she would call her friends and usually write to her family members who didn’t live close to her just to check on them and make sure they were okay. These two women, along with my aunt who also remembered everyone in her family’s birthdays and died at almost the same age as my mother and grandmother lived what I would consider an ideal life, along with one other woman who was important to me.

I lost one of my best friends, years ago, to a brain tumor. My friend didn’t drink, smoke, or overeat. She exercised regularly and ate healthfully to maintain her ideal weight. My friend died of a Glioblastoma ( an inoperable brain tumor that sends “fingers” into the brain) at the age of fifty-nine, as near as I know. Even her closest friends didn’t know her real age.

My friend never married and had no children. However, much like my aunt’s, mother’s and grandmother’s deaths, her death was mourned by many people whose lives she touched. She was always willing to help a friend in need, visit a sick person in the hospital, and serve on any church committee that she felt needed her. I become good friends with two of her other close friends. These three people helped me more than anyone else when my first marriage ended. There are those, though, who don’t fit that description of these four women.

It is heartbreaking to see a family member who was always ready and willing to help when called upon to shut the world out. Dementia, and particularly Alzheimer’s Disease, I’ve heard, are the cruelest diseases, and I agree with this assessment. With other physical ailments, suffering only goes on for a period, but these diseases can linger for seven to eight years. Not being able to recognize one’s surroundings or the people who visit them is hard to deal with.

I had a great aunt who suffered a stroke and was bedridden for the last seven or so years of her life. My great uncle only left her side to shower and sometimes to eat. I don’t think he felt comfortable leaving her, even if another family member volunteered to stay with her so he could get some rest. We could never convince him that, in her state of mind, she wouldn’t remember his absence. My grandmother said that my great uncle died of a broken heart five years later when he realized she was gone.

Cal.E. will be back with me next time and we’ll have a much less serious subject to discuss, but I’m out of time for today. Please join us next time right here on Cal.E.’s Korner.