What I Learned During My Stay in an Old Folks' Home

Four years ago I had a stint in rehab. Not the Lindsay Lohan rehab, but the kind where you have inpatient physical therapy following a hospital stay. This particular rehab facility was attached to an assisted living center and most of my fellow patients were from there or from nursing homes in the area.

The elderly are so undervalued. At 28, I was easily the youngest one there. They were so much smarter than me based on experience alone - they've been 20, 30, 40, but I've never been 40, 50, 60, or 70. I loved their company, and hung on their every word.

They had a lot of stories and a lot of opinions, just like me. They loved telling stories and I loved hearing them. They were hilarious. They loved the little things in life. They passed out asleep right after lunch, just like me, though mine was due to adjusting to a new medication and not old age. I admired their ability to say whatever, whenever, and aspired to be a wise old woman who could tell it like it is. A month or so after I came out of rehab I was really starting to get in touch with my inner Sophia Petrillo. My loved ones reminded me that I was only 28, I was becoming insufferable, and to knock it off already before I alienated everyone in my life. They were right. With a sigh I gave up my opinionated ways, but someday when I'm past childbearing age I'll dust off my sharp tongue again.

When I tell people I'm not sure I want to ever have kids, they say "who will take care of you when you're old?" Well, who knows? But you can't really count on your children to be there for you someday. So many times the residents would be lonely, and they told me their children and grandchildren didn't visit very often. When they did stop by, it seemed like kind of a special occasion.

It seems like the elderly are forgotten and not seen as relevant anymore, and that scares me. Though I'm a long way from being back at the old folks' home, I sometimes wonder what will happen with me. At least I now know I don't have to feel scared into having kids as some kind of insurance against lonely twilight years. It could happen in either case, so at least I know that's not a magic bullet.

I miss all of them; I miss Trivial Pursuit and cookies and sitting outside on the patio and popping our pills together. Together we were all the same age, some just wondering more than others where the time went.