I rarely consider my own old age and death. It doesn't seem like a productive use of my time. Recently, however, as we have dealt with the problems faced by my mother-in-law, I find myself offering up my own prayer each time I leave her bedside: Lord, give me the grace to accept reality with dignity and a nursing home if necessary.

          It's not that I want to be in a nursing home, mind you, but if I live long enough, it seems almost inevitable. Perhaps if we actually put into practice good habits of exercise and nutrition we can forestall such a course and maybe even avoid it altogether, but until that course is proven by time, we better make other plans. It is only prudent, therefore, to include the possibility of a nursing home in those plans. If we diligently work at a mind-set that is positive toward such an inevitability, our move to such a facility might be far less traumatic and viewed not so much as a dead-end and more as a new, challenging experience.

          I had a very dear friend named Thelma whose attitude toward a nursing home was positive. Her experience there was also positive for a long time. She was serene, agreeable and an inspiration. It's true that as time dragged on and her health deteriorated she became despondent and less interested in her own welfare, but her good attitude sustained her for several years. Toward the end of her life she no longer had the stamina to maintain calm patience. She simply wanted for God to call her home. We rejoiced for her when He did.

          My mother-in-law, however, has not benefited from such an attitude. She is a sweetheart and one of the dearest women I have ever known. After three years of extreme and chronic pain, she finally agreed to the hip replacement surgery her doctor had long advised. Her recovery was to be in a nursing home short-stay section where she would have help with movement, plenty of physical therapy and an opportunity to learn how best to help herself. I have known her for 35 years and I can remember at least 25 years ago having her tell me that she would never go to a nursing home! Her mother never did and she wouldn't, either! Even knowing that rehab at the nursing home was a temporary arrangement, she was convinced that it was horrible there. She hated "nursing home" food. She didn't like her roommate. She had nothing good to say about anything except that she did like a couple of the nurses. Her mind-set against nursing homes fails to acknowledge that her own mother passed away at 72. My mother-in-law is almost 82.

          Her recovery was to last three weeks in the nursing home once she left the hospital and another 6-8 weeks in assisted living. But there were complications. Once at the nursing home, she improved for three days before she developed a fever, her health rapidly deteriorated and she was transferred back to the hospital where they aggressively treated a urinary tract infection. Four days later it was back to the detested nursing home. Back to the end of the line.

          Once again with her usual tenacity, she set her teeth and worked at physical therapy. Uncharacteristically, she was unpleasant to the aids who helped her. She insisted that she would go home at the end of her stay. I gently explained that she would be going to assisted living. She was her seemingly gracious self with me. When my husband arrived, though, she was furious. She was having none of it! She wanted to go home. We agreed yes, she could go home as long as she was prepared to pay someone to care for her 24 hours a day and live at her house. It would cost about $7,000 per month. Assisted living would cost about $2,000 a month. With a monthly income of $1300 it didn't take a rocket scientist to see that assisted living was the more prudent choice. The clincher, however, was that to go home meant a stranger would actually be living in her house! We arranged for a room and my husband started moving furniture in for her. Before she had time to resign herself to the inevitable, however, her health again took a nosedive and she went back to the hospital. She was in excruciating pain. This time they scheduled her for gall bladder surgery the same day. The surgeon also repaired a hernia that had probably been the cause of her "arthritis" pain for months.

          The surgery went well but recovery did not. It was painful and difficult. Her reaction to pain-killers was not good yet the medical community felt narcotics were necessary. She is scheduled for release in a couple of days and it will be back to the nursing home. Again. Already she is gearing up for the move. She is complaining of the food "there." She is complaining that they won't let her out of her room. According to her they get mad if she takes her wheelchair into the hall although the truth is that she has never attempted to do so and there are several "social" residents who spend all their time in the halls.

          There is also the truth that we have been increasingly concerned about her living alone for a long time now. Her move to assisted living may be the safest place for her to live the remaining years of her life. A place where she will not forget food in the pans on the stove. A place where the possibility of driving is out of the question. A place where she is not isolated from the rest of the world and will have friends and companionship. A place where visiting with real people can replace the incessant noise of a TV. A place where a nurse is just down the hall all the time. A place where someone notices when you don't show up for breakfast.

          It is a bridge we have yet to cross and the approach is coming sooner than we are prepared for. How do we share our concern and love without becoming the objects of her hatred? She will never believe that it is best for her. She wants only to go home. After a heart attack two years ago my sister-in-law took her home rather than to assisted living and left after five days; she lives out of state. My husband began living at his mother's house and going to work. He stopped here to see the kids and me every couple of days. This time I am no longer willing to relinquish my own family and give up the well-being of our children.

          When my time comes, Lord, let me embrace assisted living with style. Let me dance as I am able. Don't let me lose my laugh. Let me be thankful for friends. And when my time comes, Lord, give me the grace to accept a nursing home with dignity. Let me be agreeable. Let me be pleasant. Give me patience. Give me a soft and pleasant voice.

          But, Lord, please let me have flowers in my room (silk is fine), fill my room with good music, let me have room fresheners that smell good, crisp clean sheets that feel good and, if I am in pain, Lord, let me have morphine