I had had my name on the waiting list for a
unit in the senior’s complex here in town. The units are small, but I liked the
fact that they each had their own front door, a bit of a patio and a garden.
The rent was much less than I was currently paying, and I needed to think
ahead, to retirement. I was restless where I was, and who wouldn’t be, I had
been almost house bound for two years because of the hot weather and then the
winters. My world had gotten smaller as I was able to do less and less.
In the winter of 2013 I got a call that a
unit was available. I gave my notice, signed a lease and immediately jumped
into the major job of sorting out my stuff as I would need to drastically
downsize. I was a pain in the ass, as I’m sure my kids will agree. I needed
their cooperation, take this, store this, get rid of that. The whole ordeal was
so stressful, for all of us.
I got moved in by June, had a respiratory
infection at the end of the month that lingered for weeks, and I did something
to my back so that I could barely walk. The summer was just as hot, if not
hotter than the summer before. Everything was a struggle. I’d lost my community
of friends living just down the hall. I didn’t know anyone at the new place,
and I couldn’t get out and around due to the pain.
I put on a good face, it was summer and
everyone was busy, thinking I was nicely settled into the new place. But I was
depressed, feeling isolated, and OK, woe is me, ignored. It was a major chore
to get to my car, to get the laundry or housework done, to get groceries.
I needed help, and I finally made a good
decision, I called Community Care.
No comments:
Post a Comment