{{ Jimmy Salhany, a 77-year-old biophysicist and musician, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2017. His wife, Christine, a 66-year-old musician initially took care of him on her own in their Omaha home. But she needed help as his disease progressed; he became increasingly unable to bathe and dress. She went through a string of home-health workers, ultimately hiring and firing 27 since 2019, including one who, she says, fell asleep on the job. }}
Christine now has a team of five people who provide care 24 hours a day in their home (at a cost of $240,000/yr). She hires everyone personally, relying on recommendations from friends and her other workers, supervises her husband’s caregivers and handles payroll, taxes and time sheets, as well as his medical needs. When a worker leaves, she fills that shift until she hires a replacement. }}
I’m keeping that tank of helium for euthanasia topped off.
Yes. Life is only worth living to me if I can live independently. Once I get to the point where I need some kind of custodial care, I’m out…
But I am intrigued by these robots that they’re using to talk to Alzheimer’s and dementia patients to keep them engaged. Private Equity is going to jump all over that and bill the robot out at a doctor’s rate.
Simply, yes, because “being alive” for me has a certain moral spiritual content deeply connected with external reality and other sapiens, alive now or yet to come. My life has depended on “them”, and as myself as a self-authorship comes to its end I want it to do so consistent with who I have been and am, as well as a desire for that being to end with a certain type of grace, generosity, and love.
For me that “grace” minimally means not being greedy, and to give as best I can to that communal aspect of me that will endure. That includes pouring what remains of my wealth into far far better things than having my bedsores dressed and diapers changed expertly for months or years.
Incidentally, as a 20 year old I spent the summer surfing and doing private math research while supporting myself working the midday shift at a cafe, and the early night shift at what in those days was called a “rest home”, mostly very weak and ill people dying. They taught me a great deal, and death no longer holds terrors for me. It is simply the “last adventure”.
Simply, yes, because “being alive” for me has a certain moral spiritual content deeply connected with external reality and other sapiens, alive now or yet to come. My life has depended on “them”, and as myself as a self-authorship comes to its end I want it to do so consistent with who I have been and am, as well as a desire for that being to end with a certain type of grace, generosity, and love.
There is a reason my elders (late 70’s, 80’s and 90’s) are continuing life in the family home. But this does not apply to the Alzheimer’s. As a group, they are 14. They are aging in place, bouncing from life event to life event on the spectrum from baptism of a new great to the retirement parties and 60 year anniversary celebrations.
My relatives with memory disorders are aging in a memory care unit as their weight, attitude and acute/chronic symptoms could no longer be properly managed by our “village” of more than 40 individuals.
I would bet that all of them (3, currently) in the MC unit would rather have been euthanized. Too late now as they can no longer make those decisions.
We lost a 91 year old earlier this year during the nightshift. This was a sweet blessing. No one questioned this.
He had been having daily conversations with a 1940’s set of people, who, unfortunately were haunting him and trying to reform him as a catholic school boy. He was in a daily state of terror.