So Boring

Boredom is about the worst affliction known to Man. The word "boring" is flung about regularly as a state of being, a personal jab, a general description of anything that one simply doesn't like in the first place. Boredom kills. I watched a dear one who, with medical needs that could not be met at home,  placed in a "home" only to slide down to a vegetative state and dying much sooner than naturally. It was not a pretty sight. The institution was not to blame. So often, I hear from those who are in "homes", that it is boring. And it's the truth. In spite of all efforts in these kinds of places, there is a routine that is deadly observable and dreaded by the intelligent folks who live in them. There are activities designed to effect interest. These might be exercise classes, games, outings and invited entertainments but even those see residents eventually groaning with boredom. So what else is needed? What can be done to make life for those involved, more interesting? The people in the "homes" need extra care; that is undeniable. So what's the problem? First and most important of all, people cast into such places, need to feel useful. When I was in hospital once, for a couple of weeks and not particularly ill, but in need of IV care, I was bored enough to think of escape, IV tower and all. I wanted desperately to do something useful, anything but endless seeming hours of doing nothing but wait for the meal cart to roll around, watchTV, read, try to entertain visitors. Anything but wait for the little Dixie cups of so-called food and luke-warm coffee. So what do you do at home, that's more interesting you ask? For starters, I do laundry, cleaning, shopping, cooking and all the other necessary tasks running my own home. There are other needs, too, such as sewing repairs, maintenance of equipment and driving out: scores of the small necessities of every day life. This is useful work and when its finished, there is a feeling of accomplishment. That's what's missing. In a "home" where all needs are met for one's personal care in every way, there seems no reason to go on. The monthly menu with its hot dog and meat loaf day obviously happen on a particular Thursday or Tuesday religiously. The bathing takes place on such and such a day and the entertainment, on another. The routine is deadly. There is nothing for the "me"that is "me" to do. And kindergarten crafts don't hack it. In defense of those trying to do their best to make life pleasant in "homes", the facts remain solid. The people there are afraid to rebel. Maybe they won't get ice cream on ice-cream day. I like the idea of having gardens for residents, where one can possibly grow something other than African Violets: why not chives or parsley to actually use? Folding towels or other linens, no kidding, is satisfying, more so than staring out the window watching sparrows at the bird feeder. Why can't residents of "homes"be given something useful to do: host tea parties, sit in on planning sessions, make sandwiches. Anything but sitting and waiting for somebody or something to do it all. Boorriing.