Link to KansasPrairie.net

11/26/2014

MY FRIENDS….THE GIRLS IN THE HOOD…SOME OF WHAT I’VE LEARNED FROM LIVING HERE….

Filed under: prairie musings, Presbyterian Manor — Peg Britton @ 2:00 pm

2w-gals-009-2.jpg

My neighbors on 2 west…(from left) Margie Eberhart Wilson, Joy Mansfield, Amy Hoffman, me and Hazel Beggs. Missing a good party are Mabelle Mase, Carolyn Eland and Dorothy Carmichael. The picture was taken in Joy’s apartment because she has the largest, nicest kitchen that is never used for meal preparation.  I think she uses it for storing clothes.

Those of you who really know me are aware that I didn’t give up and move here to die.  It is unfortunate, I believe, but some people do that when they go to a nursing home.  They wait around until their spouse is really sick or dies and they move into a senior place or they wait around until their kids drag them to a care facility feet first.

For me it was quite the opposite:  I moved here to get more out of life than was available to me two years ago when I lived alone in a large house in Ellsworth.  And, that’s exactly what has happened.  More is a good thing when you are older and I found it by moving here.  The Palace is different from most places and you have to visit it, or talk with my kids,  to get the idea of how great it is. It is my happy place.

It has been two years since I moved here November 28, 2012.  That does not seem possible.  I guess the adage that time flies when you’re having fun applies to me.  Now.  At age 86. At least I believe it to be a general truth and has gained credit over the years to be worthy of repeating.  Some of my friends have been here a very long time, since this place first opened,  and I’ve not heard anyone say they made a bad choice.  In fact, it’s a choice they made without any regrets.  I count my lucky stars every day that I had the foresight to realize a good thing when I saw it.  That hasn’t always been the case with me.

Since I’m old and wiser now, I will pass on a bit of advice for anyone who might be interested in the subject.  And those of you who still have parents to look after might take note.  My observation during the past two years of living among old people, is that they, for the most part, don’t plan ahead. Almost never.   Even though they know they are going to get older, be less able to do things they’ve done throughout their lives,  show early signs of falling victim to Alzheimer’s or dementia or Parkinson’s or a myriad of other problems that plague  older people, they still don’t plan for those eventualities.  It’s the biggest mistake I see that some here have made.  They waited too long to come investigate the possibilities, opportunities and get on the waiting list for a spot of their own.

For some reason they want to stay in their own homes.  That works on occasion, but for most people that turns out to be a very lonely existence with very little stimulation from outside.   Their circle of friends gets smaller and smaller and they have to rely more and more on children or friends to help them out.  They become more prone to accidents, less able to summon help and more dependent on others outside the home.

The Palace is a different kind of home that fills in all the gaps that living alone doesn’t have. The Palace is different  from other retirement centers/nursing facilities in this part of the country.  Once you move in here, they will take care of you until you die.  For instance, if you go to another  independent living facility here in Salina and you need nursing  care, you have to move to a nursing care facility.  If one spouse develops memory issues, you can be separated.  Here, one person may live in independent living while the spouse may live down the hall in secure Memory Center or Health Care.  They can visit back and forth, participate in meals and activities with one another so it’s very much the same as living together. They are under the same roof.  You get help here so one person doesn’t have total responsibility for caring for their spouse.  The idea is to move and get settled in a new place while you have plenty of time to meet new people, become familiar with the opportunities available to you and adjust to new surroundings.  People tend to wait too long to sell their houses, dispose of possessions to prepare themselves for a new direction they’ll be taking.

And, one of the best features of the Palace is that the “outhouses”, as I call them, are gorgeous townhouses, very spacious with two car garages, and equipped with all new “everything” before you move in.  They are nearby on the Palace grounds. They are the best kept secret around here.

I have a very active friend who is 71 who just moved in a townhouse and another couple the same age who will move when one is available.  They are all very active in the Salina art community.   Their move is just plain smart on their part.  If they want to eat meals here they can, but most don’t except on occasion, and they have available all the services of the Palace…maintenance takes care of their yards, snow removal, mail delivery and any upkeep they might need.  Nursing care is available within minutes.

So, if a resident wants to leave for the winter they can head to Cap d’Agde that is set on a small spur of land west of Beziers and south of Montpellier. It’s the best known naturist resort in France, possibly in Europe. It’s large, with a whole village where you can shop naked, bank without any clothes on, and take to the naked lifestyle big time. All they have to do here is close the door and leave.  Everything here is secure and well-tended to.  (I got your attention with Cap d’Agde, didn’t I?)  The point being, you can leave any time, on the spur of the moment and be away as long as you like and everything here will be taken care of so you  can have a worry-free vacation.

I’m a self-appointed cheer leader for this place because I’m so happy here, but the person you need to talk with about particulars is Kim Fair at 785.825.1366, marketing director of the Palace.  She’ll show you around, let you see every nook and cranny, have a free lunch with her and decide for yourself.  If you tell her I sent you, I think they might even do something nice for me…if you move in…and I pass it forward.

If I can answer any of your questions, please call me 785 then 826 followed by 3668.

And, thanks for tuning in…

11/24/2014

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL OUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS…

cabin.JPG

Ally and I are missing our home in Breck. It was always a fun place to be on Thanksgiving where our family gathered and Ally brought all the orphans from the ski area where she worked to join us. The mountain on the right between the trees is Quandary. The front railing on the porch held the turkey roaster with the carcass and scraps for the Canada and Stellar jays to pick clean while we enjoyed our dinner. Those were very happy times.

Ally and I are looking forward to being “home” in Ellsworth with all the family we can muster together this year…Todd, Karen and Tyler.  Karen is fixing her famous Butterball turkey dinner with all the trimmings and we’re all looking forward to it.  It’s always lip-smacking good.  Tyler will be the only representative of the grandchild generation and we’re very much looking forward to having him home and hearing about his recent trip to and experiences in South Africa.

Some of my neighbors here at the “Palace” will be heading to the homes of their children and grandchildren.  Others, lacking any family, will have a nice Thanksgiving dinner here “at home” with friends.  No one will be alone at this time.

I hope everyone has a very happy holiday weekend with family and friends.
Thanks for tuning in…

11/12/2014

BRITONS BELIEVE RELIGION DOES MORE HARM THAN GOOD…

Filed under: prairie musings, print news, religion — Peg Britton @ 12:51 pm

Huff post

By Jessica Elgot

More than half of Britons believe that religion does more harm than good, with less than a quarter believing faith is a force for good, the Huffington Post UK can reveal today.

Even 20% of British people who described themselves as being ‘very religious’ said religion was harmful to society, and a quarter of said atheists were more likely to be moral individuals than religious people.
The exclusive poll for the HuffPost UK reveals that just 8% of Britons describe themselves as very religious, with more than 60% saying they were not religious at all.

The eye-opening survey, that will reopen debate over the role and worth of religion to British society, found of the ‘non-religious’ people polled, more than 60% said they thought religion caused more problems than it solved.

The poll shows that more people believe being an atheist is more likely to make you a good person than being religious. In fact, one in eight Britons said atheists tend to be more moral, compared to just 6% who say atheists are less moral, challenging widely held beliefs that religion is one of the last remaining bastions of British morality.
________________________________________

11/11/2014

WE HONOR YOU AND YOUR SERVICE TO OUR COUNTRY…

Filed under: prairie musings, family, Tyler Britton USAF, Roy P. Britton — Peg Britton @ 8:04 am

10731038_10203491298986784_5164172223600287026_n.jpg

Roy P. Britton, Army Air Corps corporal WWII radar observer with grandson, Tyler J. Britton, now a tech sergeant/respiratory therapist in the US Air Force.  Missing is a picture of my brother, Bruce H. Baker, a captain and fighter pilot in the US Air Force and my father, 1st Lt. US Army Bruce H. Baker, WWI.

IN FLANDERS FIELDS
by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

11/4/2014

DON’T FART DURING AN MRI…

Filed under: prairie musings — Peg Britton @ 8:09 am

HUFF POST
by Elaine Ambrose
Author, syndicated blogger, featured humor speaker, publisher, and retreat organizer knows that laughter - with wine - is the best medicine.

Don’t Fart During an MRI

I share this true but pathetic story to commiserate with other tortured souls who relentlessly endure and survive extreme humiliation. We’re a group of accident-prone fools who regularly trigger embarrassing situations that would permanently traumatize a normal person. My experience this week will be difficult to surpass: I farted inside an MRI machine.

In medical terms, I had torn the meniscus cartilage that acts as a shock absorber between my shinbone and thighbone. In middle-age woman terms, two demons from hell invaded my body and lit fires in my knee and then danced around poking the raw nerves with electric forks. The pain was beyond intense, and the accident severely damaged my body so I couldn’t stand, walk, or even crawl to the wine bar.

Five drug-induced days later, I finally saw an orthopedic surgeon. He manipulated my knee until tears streamed down my cheeks and I threatened to tear off his arms. It should have been obvious that I was injured by the way I was ripping off chunks from the sides of the examination table. I silently vowed to add him as a nasty character in my next short story. Finally, some lovely angel gave me legal narcotics. Soon my ravaged leg was a big, bandaged joke, and I laughed and laughed.

A few days later I experienced the MRI - a magnetic resonance imaging procedure that uses a magnetic field and pulses of radio waves to make images of damaged ligaments and joints. A handsome young technician helped me into the tube of terror and strapped down my leg. I nervously remarked that a first name usually was required before I allowed anyone to tie me in a bed. He didn’t laugh but ordered me to hold still for 45 minutes. So there I was, in pain, suffering from claustrophobia, moving on a conveyor belt into the white torture chamber, and I didn’t have a clue how to remain motionless. And, to complete the distress, my only audience wasn’t amused by my jokes.

After about 20 minutes, I started to get anxious. I was tied down in a tunnel and could only hear strange beeping noises and grinding sounds. For all I knew, they were deciding which body parts to extract and sell on the black market. Then a queasy feeling predicted a pending passing of gas. I bit my tongue, pinched my side, and tried to focus on a pastoral scene in a green meadow beside a babbling brook. I could hear my mother’s advice: “Squeeze the dime.” I fidgeted.

“Please hold still,” came a voice from outside the shaft of shame.

I watched as the lights and numbers revealed how much time remained. Three minutes. I could do it! No! My body betrayed me at the one-minute mark. I was trapped and helpless so my nervous body did what it does best: it farted. I released gas with the intensity and conviction of a team of sumo wrestlers after a chili-eating contest. And the confined space caused the sound to be amplified as if a dozen foghorns had simultaneously activated. I didn’t know whether to cry, giggle, or call my son and brag.

“Well now, I think we have enough images,” the handsome technician said, suppressing a laugh.

The magic bed moved backwards into freedom, bringing along the putrid stench of decay. I was mortified as my imaginary meadow became a ravaged pasture full of rotting manure. What in the hell had I eaten? I avoided eye contact with the timid technician and hobbled back to the dressing room. Once again, I accepted my fate of being the perpetual, reluctant clown, the oddball, the one who farts during a complicated medical procedure.

If I ever need another MRI, I’ll request a facility in Texas. Everyone farts there.

Follow Elaine Ambrose on Twitter: www.twitter.com/ambroseelaine

11/3/2014

INTRODUCING THE NEW KING AT THE PALACE…

Filed under: prairie musings, Presbyterian Manor — Peg Britton @ 10:55 am

brad.jpg

From left:  Amy Hoffman, my neighbor across the hall; Brad Radatz, the new executive director of the Palace; Leo Lake, a new resident, but previously, a long-time volunteer at the Palace.

Radatz’ first job was a certified nursing assistant at the hospital in his hometown of Lindsborg. It’s not a big town, and it’s not a big hospital, which meant Radatz was often idle or sent home.

But Radatz, who was about to start college, wanted more shifts and more experience. He was surprised when that put him on the path to working in long-term care. “I liked the learning curve with hospitals,” Radatz said. “I didn’t think I would get that same learning curve medically in long-term care, but I learned quickly that was not the case.”

He went on to earn a bachelor’s degree in life sciences from Kansas State University in 2010, with a secondary major in gerontology and an emphasis in long-term care administration. In July, he was named executive director of Salina Presbyterian Manor. Previously, Radatz had been lead administrator with Frontline Management, responsible for the day-to-day operations of Garden Valley Retirement Village in Garden City.

The appeal of long-term care, Radatz found, was in building relationships with residents. He also wants to make it easier for residents to develop stronger relationships with each other and with employees. “We really want to develop our environment to be more of an actual neighborhood,” he said. “We want people on a particular hall to feel like they’re part of a smaller, close group.”

That means giving residents and employees more opportunities to interact, Radatz said, and listening to their ideas. He hopes they’ll be able to develop more family-like relationships instead of the traditional caregiver-patient dynamic.

“Ten years ago, health care was more physically focused,” Radatz said. “Now we want to make sure we’re also caring for their emotional, psychological and social needs.”

Radatz and his wife, Amy, are excited to be in Salina – partly because they have season tickets to K-State football and basketball, and now they’re closer to Manhattan. The couple met in college and married in 2012.

from PMMA Community Matters…


Home

Powered by WordPress