From Dragonfly: Two Old Ladies

Aging in prison is not an easy thing. Aging anywhere is difficult, especially when we get to a certain age. But, what about those who arrive in prison already of a certain age? There are many of those...

In my unit there are many older women. Women who are already on social security before they enter prison, and will be returning to social security after. There are specifically two of these ladies that I'm going to write about right now. They each have short(ish) sentences, health issues, and must use a walker. They both have to stand in the awful pill line at least 2x/day. They live two doors down from one another, and they are inseparable. When you see one of them, or hear their walker coming near, you are bound to see the other turning the corner just after them. They eat meals together, watch television together, and look after one another.

In the outside world, their friendship would be like any two widows, who have formed a friendship so neither is alone in life. They share pictures of grandbabies, stories of ailments, and laughter from tales of woe throughout their lives. There's not a lifetime movie or game show they haven't watched, soaps make up the main part of their afternoons, and they have enough attitude to fight anyone in the unit to be able to watch what they want on television.

So, it's just sad, when suddenly, there comes a time when one of them is seen in the atrium, and the other is not. Illness and pain has caused one to not want to get out of bed, except when necessary. The other looks in on her, best she can, but the confines and rules of prison life, make helping one another difficult when confined to one's room. Hot soup will exchange hands with roommates for sustenance, and homemade cards for laughter.

It's hard to watch someone frail become more frail; to watch their excitement for life fade. I don't think this is anywhere near the "end" for either woman, but it's never good to just curl up in a ball and give up. It's too easy to do here, so the rest of us have to make sure it does not happen. We peek in, give a smile, ask, "how are you?," and actually listen for an answer.

On some days, she has enough energy to go and wait the awful pill line, knowing that the medication will help her feel better, if only she is able to walk to the other building and then sit on her walker chair. Many "friends" are there, glad to see her, the old biddy, kinda back to the person and attitude everyone expects. We hope it keeps up, and this evening, she is at a table, with her best friend, enjoying a movie, or working on a new craft project.

She asks what happened on her soaps? I suppose it's the day she stops caring about those characters is the real day we should worry about her future with us. It must be hard to grow old in prison, but I imagine coming here already in those later years of life, may be worst.