When I was studying in Toronto and learned about reverse mortgaging, I thought it was a great idea. I still do, but it took a long time for it to happen in Hong Kong. In 2010, the banks finally started looking into its potential. I don’t know if it will work, given that Chinese people are so attached to the few bricks over their head. A sense of security for a lot of older people comes from the knowledge that they have a roof over them. Will they be able to give up this certainty and trust the bank enough to do it?
There is an interesting story to share about reverse mortgaging. Jeanne Calment, a French woman who lived to age 122 (1875-1997), had the longest confirmed human life span in history. When she was 90, she sold her apartment to a lawyer, Andre-Francois Raffray, on a contingency contract. It was agreed that he would pay her 2,500 francs a month until she died, and then he would own the apartment. She outlived Raffray after receiving more than $180,000, more than double the market price.
We learn about sandwich generations from books and by talking with friends and patients, but unless you have become one of those being “sandwiched,” you don’t really know what it means. Being sandwiched means not only that you have to look after your older and younger blood relations; it also means constant worrying about your parents and your younger ones, be they nephews, nieces or your own children.
At the moment, my mother is frequently on my mind. She has fallen four times since June. This is worrisome, indeed, but there is nothing much I can do. She lives with my brother in Toronto. My brother has been taking good care of her, but she is getting older and frailer each year.
I didn’t realize there is a comparative advantage of living in a smaller apartment. (Again, like I said earlier, learning has to be experiential.) When my mother visited me in Hong Kong just a few months back, she remarked that it was good that my apartment is small. She could quickly find something nearby to hold onto when she felt dizzy or when her knees gave way.
I didn’t think much about growing old when I was younger. I didn’t worry about saving money for the future when I was decades away from retirement age. In fact, retirement, secured old age, and so on, were not words and phrases found in my vocabulary when I was young.
There is a growing trend for people to say that we need to teach young people about growing old and getting prepared when they are still young; we need to plan for a secure old age decades ahead of time. As a gero nurse, I am not so sure about this. People grow into their own age. Learning has to be experiential. And where is the fun when, say at age 20, you have to be mindful of what you will become at 65?
Would continually thinking about old age take away our drive to move forward, to explore the world, to dream big dreams? Would teaching our young and making them think of old age prematurely rid them of the innocence of a full and “invincible” life ahead? What joy will it bring if we have to calculate risks when we are still young? We need to be responsible for our lives but not to that extent. At least not for me.
For Reflections on Nursing Leadership (RNL), published by the Honor Society of Nursing, Sigma Theta Tau International.
