Hmm... one thing leads to another...in my train wreck of thought processes...

My friend Annti wrote me yesterday about someone involved in health care for the elderly there, I don't want to go into details. And she told her friend how she reacted to the post below, and how she found out that there was one place where 'The Venerable' got good treatment in the US. This lady is always going on about how she would end her life before going into a nursing home, and has seen very much about what is wrong with the system. And after hearing Annti going on about her search for The Venerable, she said when the time comes, she would even move to New Hampsha' because she didn't believe that there was anything anywhere where people could be nice. Yup. Whereupon Annti kiddingly said she would sort of set her up with 'The Venerable' if it came to that, which was funny. (Not to worry, V. the lady is 71. Hot stuff... smile...)

This got me to a flash-back, and how uncaring people can be, and one sentence below sort of set it off. 'We all know how sad that can be.'

For nearly two years, I had a paper route. And there was one block 'for ladies only'. Retired ladies, nice, eager for interaction, had tiny single rooms, and they would hold me up to the max, because they had no one to talk to. I think I was around thirteen back then. And I would listen. Really listen. And they always made me very sad inside, and were interesting, and so damned alone I felt the hurt.

The horridays were the worst. They'd get so aflutter, and excited like a cage full of canaries with a cat twitching below their cages. And after the first time or so, I knew what was coming, and it wrenched my heart. Because I knew by then... it was gonna be so horrible for them. 'Oh, their sons, daughters were gonna pick them up and it was gonna be so wonderful, and they would get to see their grandchildren, and heaven was gonna open up, and rainbows were gonna be all over the city', or something like that.

The days after the horridays were excruciating for me. To see those poor ladies crushed in spirit, and so disappointed. 'Little Johnny had the flu, so they cancelled'. The lamest excuses you would ever wish to hear, and they were devastated, and in denial. That ripped me apart inside, till I hurt.

They never got out of their little cells.

And I would listen, and listen, and try to be of some consolation... I was just the paper-boy, after all, but they needed an ear. I was only thirteen or so, but I did what I could.

And it made me SO indignant, and so angry, and hey, there were things in my family, but no one treated anyone whomsoever is such a shabby, disgusting way. And it made me very angry.

I guess the point of this is.... it wasn't a nursing home, number one. And still.... people get denigrated, and shunted off 'somewhere', and basically neglected. And when I said yesterday that I do not see people being visited in Gamlitz so far.... it very much reminded me of that paper route, and the extraordiary callousness of just shunting off what you consider excess baggage and leaving people in the lurch.

That is a harsh assessment, I know.

That is why it disturbs me that I see so few visitors where Peter is, and the staff seems to be happy that I come there.

I have touched on the subject of how, when I came here, families with extended generations lived under one roof. Wasn't all too easy, conflict of personalities, and so on. But they got on somehow. When I said most of the houses in Gamlitz are less than 20 years old? Everyone moved out and built their own private spaces.

That can be a good thing. But such decisions have consequences too. There is an element of selfishness in all this. And that existed decades ago where I grew up, certainly not in my family, but it was there.

So when I flashed back in my mind to the women in the 'Ladies Block', I do not like seeing no visitors to other people. It reminds me too much of those poor people who kept hoping for visits that never came, and a mess of other things.

There is this man in Peter's place.... he is always out in the hall, and he has this odd thing he does. Rubbing his fist against the side of his forehead, and sort of sidling against the walls, but never settles, really. Afraid of something. But at least he has people who care for him, talk to him, try to make him feel 'safe'. I have learned that I scare him if I come up the hall too fast. So I go slow. And smile. It is very unsettling.... for us both, I guess...

The 'Ladies in the Block' didn't have that. They were on their own, and had an empathetic paper boy who tried to listen. And spent way more time than he should have... just listening, and trying to console them.

The paper-boy got fired.... because the people on the rest of the route got their papers too late.

And I thought: 'Well fuck you all', because those hours spent were something I thought was important, and no one else was paying attention....

Sometimes, I think human nature is so ugly, I would gladly give up my membership. Other times, I think, 'ok, try to make a difference, you idjit'.

And along come nice people, and try to help, and you have to hold your hand up, and let yourself be helped when you despair about what 'humanity' is.

Greed and avarice seem to have the upper hand, these days. But we will see.....