CCNH

Yesterday I picked up something I had done throughout junior year: playing bingo at the Champaign County Nursing Home. A group of about ten premeds sits down with thirty or so residents, and we do just what it sounds like: play bingo. We can just give them someone to talk to or play bingo for/with them. There is a continuum in terms of how the residents are doing: ridiculously well to barely there. After visiting CCNH a few times, I've found that I always leave feeling good, but also saddened. This time, I left feeling a little guilty though.

I feel pretty good when I hear some of the residents' ages and see how well they are doing. These residents make me wonder why they're in a nursing home to begin with. Another good feeling comes about as a result of providing company for the residents. This isn't to say that the nursing staff ignores or hates them. But the times I've come in, most of the residents seem genuinely happy to have visitors who are semi-interested in them and engage them in conversation.

It's partly because of these residents' excitement that I'm saddened when I leave. Because when it comes down to it, we're just a random group of college kids with no real connection to the residents. What's there to get excited about? Another thing that saddens me is hearing the things some of these people have done and contrasting those people to who they are today. One resident (I'll call her Anita) finished college in three years and got her RN. All her kids have some sort of advanced degree, be it MS or PhD. And now Anita struggles to remember my name. Sad thing is I can tell she's trying. She repeatedly asks me when I'm getting my masters and keeps telling me that her birthday was on Thursday. She talks about how her son was supposed to come visit and how he hasn't shown up. I don't know if her son actually didn't show up or if she just forgot. There are also those who just can't physically play bingo, due to poor eyesight, ataxia, or inability to keep up with the numbers being called.

Anita asked me if I wanted to live to be 91, like she was. I reflexively said yes in the interests of being polite. Really though, my answer is "it depends." Will I be 91 as a result of medicine keeping me past my time, aka barely mentally or physically functioning? Or will I be a (relatively) healthy 91 year old who can do most of the things I want to? Hell if I know. But in reality, if I had to lose my faculties to live to that age, I would say no. Damn. Sorry Anita.