If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character… Would you slow down? Or speed up?
Chuck Palahniuk
A lot of people around my age like to do a bucket list. I made a bucket list, then I turned the “b” to an “f” and I was done with that, too.
Jerry Seinfeld, recently
I have been volunteering for Meals on Wheels for a while, as part of the Friendly Visitors Program. It has been a glorious experience.
This program involves visiting a senior weekly and spending some time with them; talking, walking, playing games – whatever they want to do. I visit my friend, who at 105 is still going strong. Her secret power: she ALWAYS has her nose in a book. She can’t hear very well, but she plays a mean game of dominoes. I miss going and visiting her every week, as the pandemic has shut down the program. I want to share DARK chocolate again (she is very specific!). Ghirardelli dark chocolate mints have been my usual enticement to induce her to put the book down for a few moments of dominoes.
She is a lovely lady, born just after the great San Francisco earthquake, if you can imagine that. Her mom had lived through it, and shortly thereafter gave birth to her. She lived through too many wars, married a handsome Navy man, and enjoyed traveling the world with him.
She is in a hospice, with a fantastic and caring staff. She is moved from a recliner chair to a wheelchair and back, using a lift and sling mechanism to get her from one to the other. I was astonished the first time I saw it in action.
If it were me, it’s clear that I would prefer that at least part of that time be spent in a hammock. Hammocks can provide many more opportunities for movement and are light, flexible bedding. As needed, monitors and other medical devices can be clipped in overhead. Tubes, as needed, can be passed through the weave or brought down from above.
Music, a small monitor, books, tranquility.
I want the right to die – in a hammock. I would think this would be a preference for a good number of elderly, if they were aware of the option. Those that need to stretch their back. Work some joints. Those that want to keep critical components flexible – bendable – operating. Those that enjoy a sunny afternoon, a musical fountain and bird song.
I am not an eldercare expert, nor do I know what the concerns would be, but I plan to advocate for this and see if I can make it happen. For one thing, it might be an opportunity to be outside for an hour or two. It might reduce the incidence of bed sores. It might just be a better rest.
Can hammocks help hospitals be more nimble?
One could imagine setting up a row of hammocks between two big posts or even trees, with supports between each bed and an overhead cable to clip in equipment and carry power. It would have to be lighter, and more flexible to transport, than some of the field hospitals I have seen. It could be set up in a long strip of shelter. Partitions in between depending on rates of infection. No monster beds or funky plasma bags on wobbly poles.
What if one were to use origami techniques to create an accordion-like expandable hospital ward, of paper, that would swiftly unfold and spread out over a considerable length of terrain. Anchor it to the nearest tree. Throw a waterproof strip over the top, string power cord through the middle, and you have a hasty hospital.
Just toss it in the back’a my pickup.
I do think that for health care workers, moving folks around may be easier, as you can lift half of the body and swing the hammock out of the way. You can fold the hammock up and stow it to provide more space. There will clearly be advantages and disadvantages. It would be nice to explore these options for a more mobile field hammock hospital.
We took a trip to France last year, and had a delightful time. I was struck by two scenes. One was the hospice, in Beaune, France, with beds lined up like pews around a lovely chapel. The ill could get care from the sisters, stare up at the stained glass, and intone their prayers. For a price, I am sure. “From my lips to God’s ears.”
Maybe Saint Peter will provide audio tours?
The other scene was the garden at Arles where Vincent van Gogh spent some time recuperating. The flowers were as lovely as he had painted them, and the courtyard that surrounded the garden was magnificent, with large arches and cool hallways. I would like to spend the last of my days around a just such a beautiful courtyard with a bubbling fountain and birds singing, in an alcove, in a hammock. Maybe a picture window to close when the weather gets chill.
Kids could stop by, and give me a push – if there weren’t too many tubes or wires. It could be such a lovely garden. Better to be parked in front of nature than in front of a television set.
It would be nice to have a babbling brook running through the garden, or a trout stream, but I would hate to be in a floodplain. “Just cast that fly right to the left side of that eddy, next to the pool. I’ve been watching a big trout eat flies in that spot all afternoon. It’s time you took him. Catch and release of course.”
Gentle music could drift down from overhead. Durn, I hope I can still hear it. Nurses would stroll by, laughing and smiling and distributing cold nutri shakes. They might have to help me boot up my tablet. Perhaps they would say “There, there.” And wipe my brow. Or give me a sponge bath.
Mi Mayan Hamaca 