Hi there, and thanks for clicking this little post. Welcome to my ramblings, as I sit here and reflect on life and the life that I've led. And by ramblings, I do mean that. But I hope that a lot of it makes sense to you, also. And I must warn you (disclaimer), it may get a bit deep at times. And feel free to join in should you respond.
Brief info - JD - 59 - inoperable advanced pancreatic cancer - happy outlook on life - positive - enjoys rambling.
Now, as for the title of this thread, 'just curious about something', this leads me to something that I am curious about. In a word - escape. Or more specifically, 'escape from reality'.
For many years now, I've thought about the aging process, and how some of us ultimately end up in nursing home facilities sometimes into our late eighties or nineties, being cared for, having movies to watch on TV, eating three meals a day, and finally going to bed early, with a pill to help us sleep, of course.
Now, in some ways, having been placed in such a position of dependency upon others, as I see it, provides a form of escape from reality. And by form of, I mean, either surrendering oneself willingly to such a life and then becoming physiologically and or physically dependent on it, or having no choice, such as in the case of Alzheimer patients.
I used to help a friend of mine every once in a while with his carpet and floor cleaning business. My friend held a contract for several similar places. One night, we were cleaning the polished floors of of an aged person's facility. It was a huge facility, looking after hundreds of both the aged, as well as those suffering with Alzheimer's. The dining area was large, and as we started to move the tables and chairs to one side of the room, we heard a shout from behind us. It was one of the staff, and he had an important message for us.
Out of breath, he told us that it was imperative that every single table and chair, especially those with anything on them, like a small bowl of flowers, for example, be replaced exactly where we'd gotten it from.
We got the point, but naturally we asked why, and then the guy told us that only a few months earlier, two elderly female patients sitting at the same table, noticed mid-meal that their chairs were different to one they'd each been sitting on daily for the past three years. As soon as they determined each of them to have the other's chair, they'd gotten into a fight over it, each accusing the other of having stolen the other's chair on purpose. The fight went down to the ground, apparently, onto the floor. Fists flying (well, you know what I mean). Peas, flying. Yes, I did say peas. And corn. And some other stuff, mashed potato, steak pie, all sorts of food types. The staff had to break them up. And that probably wouldn't have been easy.
Okay, and in all seriousness, now. Couldn't it have been possible, that the switch in chairs simply activated a trigger in each of the old ladies, that then caused an eruption of trapped thoughts from each of them? And that this ultimately led to the realization by both of them that their lives were being lived by someone else, and that they were trapped in a world of being fully dependent on others for their very existence. And then frustration and anger, both came pouring out. I'm interested in your thoughts on this.
Exactly. Having control over one's life is imperative, but so often we don't have it. In the example I gave, (a true story, by the way) the elderly in nursing homes lived in a reality controlled by strict routine, and in some cases, such as for the two elderly women who started fighting over chair misplacement, having their own chair in the dining hall was a part of that routine, which, once broken, led to a serious brain snap for each of them.
If there is one regret that I have in this life, it's that I so often held back my true opinions about things, mainly on the work front. Work environments are also false realities, particularly where I worked. I was in the government for over forty years and I saw everything. Corruption, nepotism, favoritism and so on. I was the type to challenge things, especially stupid ideas put forward by people who had no right to be in the positions of power that they were, but rather were there because of who they knew. In short, if someone was an idiot, I let them know that I thought that, in my own special way. Basically, it was a look that I gave them that said 'you're a dickhead'. Needless to say, I didn't advance to the higher levels, but nor did I want to go there, either.
Sorry, I'm writing a book here. I am a writer, by the way, and I can tell you now that writing fiction is in itself a great way to escape from reality. I have a quadrilogy under way and am nearly finished part 3. I class it as the most politically incorrect story ever written, a sort of comedic, sarcastic, yet truthful analysis of how government departments actually work, and the four parts are:
Make me a Sandwich;
A fistful of sandwiches;
For a few sandwiches more; and
Good, Bad and Ugly sandwiches.
Anyway, thanks for your response. The next time I take some of that painkiller medication and feel inspired, I'll add to my little blog here 🙂
It will be sure to be...interesting.
John i can relate to making sure that my chair at church never ended up in a different spot.
I put red tape on the leg of my chair.
It became a THING to make sure my chair got put back exactly where I sat.
One day a stranger took my chair. It gave me a heart attack:)
Marking one's chair. Yes, I can certainly relate to that one. I noticed many years ago, that the same thing happens on buses and trains, especially on train carriages. Everyone takes the exact same train every day, and sits in the exact same carriage, on the exact same chair, me included.
It got to the stage where we even started to know each other, despite never having been formally introduced. Head nods became common, and even a few 'how ya doin' buddy' comments started to become common, as we all sat down.
On occasions, I saw someone else sitting in my chair, and was close to saying 'hey, that's my chair, buddy,' but I didn't, of course. But let' face it, how dare someone else take the seat I'd been sitting in for years! 'It's my chair! Mine! Move, Goddamitt!'
Seriously, the nerve of some people.
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