As I watch my mom struggle to get up from her recliner to the walker, I couldn’t help asking myself, “Is this my future?” 

Last week we picked her up from a rehab facility where she was recovering from hip surgery. Yep, she became one of those senior ladies who fell and fractured her hip.

We walked her to the car at a turtle’s pace because she could barely take steps, even with her walker. The facility knows that she lives alone (I live in a different state), and yet here she is, going home when she can barely move by herself. But I’ll save my rant about the inadequacies of the U.S. healthcare system for another day.

At least she has received home visits from nurses, PTs, OTs and a social worker to make arrangements for some light housekeeping. But she still has hours and hours by herself, after I leave at the end of this week. It’s hard not to worry.

And again I think to myself, “Is this my future?”

I don’t know how many times my anxiety filled head repeated that phrase. Then the rationalizing begins. I exercise more than she did at my age. My diet is healthier than hers was at my age. I have so much more knowledge about health and wellness than she did at my age. But is it enough?

Of course death is inevitable, but does being medically disabled also have to be inevitable? Do we have to confine ourselves to walkers and therapy appointments when we are elderly? I guess it’s better than the alternative to not getting old. Maybe.

It’s just hard to think about loosing my independence. I already see how mom is struggling with it. She doesn’t want to move out of her house, so she’s fighting this aging thing every shaky step of the way. And it’s hard for me to watch. To see the woman who took care of me, now in a position where I have to take care of her. But that’s what family members do for each other.
I just hope I won’t give my daughter this much work and anxiety when I’m elderly.

Take care and stay healthy everyone! ❤️

The feature image was taken of my mom and me at Thanksgiving 2020.