Since I’m focusing on getting myself on a better track, I’m going to talk in upcoming posts about books that I’ve read over the past several years or even earlier. Lately, I’ve been listening to audiobooks. It’s an interesting experience to listen to (rather than physically read) a book. For audiobook content, often consumed while multi-tasking, I find it easier to follow biographies, memoirs, and other non-plot-driven stories than to follow novels or complex nonfiction. I recently listened to two books that, in part, talked about dealing with decline of a loved one or oneself.
Pocketful of Happiness by actor Richard E. Grant follows his family’s experiences as his wife is dying of cancer. The memoir is a mix of Richard and Joan’s early lives together and their more recent adventures, including his Oscar nomination. There are lots of entertaining stories about their engagement with other actors, but the parts I found most compelling were about dealing with wife Joan’s physical decline, how it affected their relationship and how it impacted their lives.
Joan’s growing limitations meant that they stayed at home more and friends came to visit rather than meeting up in places near and far. Joan didn’t travel as much and, in fact, did not accompany Richard and their daughter for the Oscar festivities when he was nominated. The shrinking of their world became more pronounced as her illness worsened. They spent her last months together, facing the challenges of saying goodbye. These sections were lovely and lovingly written. Joan encouraged Richard and their daughter to find a pocketful of happiness every day. Seems like good advice to me.
I Remember Nothing and Other Reflections by Norah Ephron also is a mix of stories, some of which are entertaining and others more heartfelt. As with Pocketful of Happiness, the sections that resonated most clearly for me were those dealing with loss of memory and the fear that comes with not being as sharp as you used to be. She died a couple of years after publishing this book and several years after trying to determine whether her memory losses were “normal” aging or areas for concern. Like most people, she starts with those basic things – forgetting names and faces, losing keys, etc. – but moves on to confusing people, places, and memories. Invariably, the confusion leads to questions like: did that really happen or have I met her before? Confusion is part of the downward spiral that includes increasing fear of making public gaffes, increasing anxiety about what is true, and increasing speculation about the awful next steps in the aging process.
Both of these books remind me of my mother’s decline. The physical, cognitive, and mental health capacity losses experienced by older adults have similarities and differences. Even if some specific things are different and even though Joan and Norah died at 74 and 71, respectively, the losses are what I see with my 95-year-old mother. Like Joan and Norah, Mom increasingly lacks the energy to get out and explore or experience the world. She plans and then cancels activities at the last minute, gets confused easily, is frustrated by her limitations, and worries about what others see or think about her declining condition. However, not everything in these two books translates to my mother’s situation. My mother moved away from her friends and at this point in her decline, she has difficulty remembering them. She doesn’t have people pounding a path to her door to discuss old times. We don’t have the resources to travel here and there, have a second home to visit for a change of scenery, or have events and activities to consider accepting. I envied the variety of life that the books incorporated. Even trips to the country or dinner at a favorite restaurant seem like dream destinations to me. Though I’m a homebody, there is a fine line between enjoying quiet times at home and becoming a recluse. My goal is to stay on the healthy side of that line.
