Of course, with Nana in rehab, it's hard not to think about my own aging and mortality.
Despite my previous post, I'll give her this: It's really got to be lonely to be old and in a hospital, with some family that visits, some that live too far away, and most that are dead.

Of course, I think: what if that was me in the hospital? I'd want my children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren to visit. I would not want to be sitting there alone all day, talking to random rehab nurses I don't know and wondering if the person in the bed next to me is going to recover or die. Ew.

Of course, I also had some --other-- thoughts, like: If you're 90 and you have a broken arm and all you do all day anyway is watch TV, what's the point of getting better? I mean, what's there to live for? So you heal and you can move your arm an then you go back home. Then what? I don't write this - in any way - to imply that my grandmother shouldn't get better or that I think she should throw in the towel. I just think about me in this situation. And if I was just idle all day, I don't think I'd see any point to getting better...or, morbidly, I guess...live any longer.

Of course, this is all because of my neurotic, must always be productive nature. And so even if I was healthy and 90 and I had no purpose, I wouldn't know what to do with myself and I can't imagine feeling like there was a purpose to continue.

Of course, the natural next question is: how do I define purpose? I mean maybe for Nana and other people, or maybe when I'm 90 I'll define it differently, but right now, I really think of purpose professionally and in terms of looking forward to my children's futures and accomplishments. But not just hearing about what they're doing, being actively engaged with them. For people who have never really been actively engaged in life beyond social engagements with people who are currently dead (read: Nana), I don't know how they define purpose in their lives anymore. I should probably ask.

Of course, it terrifies me to have no purpose. This is already a problem for me when I feel like I have nothing to do in a single day. I can't imagine an unending amount of time. (This is probably why I schedule everything down to the minute, so I don't have an anxiety attack about feeling purposeless and lost in the world).

Of course, the funniest part is that, now, I'm already trying to think about what my plan will be when I'm old and useless. How will I structure my day and find a purpose.

And, of course, I feel guilty for not spending more time visiting my grandmother.