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124` SEVEN Mr. Sidney at Laurel Ridge I sat in my car in the small parking lot facing the entrance to Laurel Ridge. I found the building attractive in the late morning sun, and although there is minimal landscaping—six red geraniums in the summer or six purple pansies in the fall, interspersed with a few hardy and drought-resistant greens— the tall lush trees overlooking the grounds from the adjoining property give a parklike feel to the home. A large mobility transport van backed up and pulled away, probably taking someone to dialysis or a doctor’s appointment, and the ice cream delivery truck drove out a little too fast for my comfort. Mr. Howard’s sister pulled up alongside me, smiled and nodded, and grabbed his laundry from the trunk. (Mr. Howard, in his early fifties, has a brain tumor, and one of his eight siblings in their staunch Catholic family takes a turn visiting each day, shuttling him to the Basilica for walks and minding his care.) I reminded myself that I needed to select a resident on which to focus, to write about. Each resident has a compelling story. I sat there asking myself: whom should I pick? I had been ruminating on this question for weeks. After gathering my notebook and tape recorder from the front seat, I spotted Mr. Sidney in his wheelchair, sitting off to the side of the front door, head back, enjoying the sun.“God’s signature”is how he described the clouds to me one afternoon. He was dressed to“go out,”never leaving his room without a jacket, sports cap, and waist pack, no matter the weather. He is always polite, pleasant, and pensive, and I thought of him often speaking positively of life from his perch of ninety-seven years. From Mr. Sidney I have learned to appreciate a calm approach to life and death, and I am grateful for his willingness to share in the research. I decided that Mr. Sidney’s life would make for a fine story. MR. SIDNEY AT LAUREL RIDGE 125 We first interviewed Mr. Sidney in the spring of 2005, four and a half months after he moved to Laurel Ridge. We had already met several times, and he could always be found at exercise class at ten in the morning or at the discussion or word game afterward. Exercise is what is “very good” about Laurel Ridge, he said; it tests not only the body but also the mind. “Some do it,” he said, “to live longer.” He did it “to feel better; it keeps me alive.” Mr. Sidney attended all activities with Mrs. Perkins, a resident he met within days of his arrival. They ate together, kept company, and “watch[ed] out for each other.” Staff at Laurel Ridge referred to them as a “couple”; an observant nurse told us, “they talk.” Drawn together as two of the few cognitively astute residents, they both had lost spouses, were childless, and had few close living relatives. Mrs. Perkins had one niece who orchestrated her care. Della, the great-niece of Mr. Sidney’s second wife, handled his finances, purchased groceries and medical supplies, and brought him to her home for holidays and special events. Mr. Sidney called Della his “guardian angel” and acknowledged the good care she provided. In this chapter we discuss an expanded notion of what it means to be family and the part “fictive kin” play in resident oversight. We examine what life is like in a locked setting, where residents with severe dementia freely roam throughout the home; the effect a financially stressed and census-challenged assisted living facility has on its population; how ethnicity is perceived; and the notion of friendship in the lives of residents at Laurel Ridge. Introducing Mr. Sidney Mr. Sidney exuded a commanding presence. A tall man, even in his wheelchair , he appeared fit. He recognized that his memory was failing and his eyes were bad. “This old mind is kind of tight,” he said, and though he was not “jumping up and down,” Mr. Sidney found that life was “not too bad.” On the table in his room he kept a game board and challenged himself, moving the marbles according to varying strategies, which he said helped keep his mind intact. Although he felt that his body was weakening, he had what his favorite nurse called “a young man mind.” [3.142.12.240] Project MUSE (2024-04-25 05:17...

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