“Oh thank God I can go myself to the bathroom,”
Makovertoldme.“Youwouldthinkit’snothing.You’re
young.You’llunderstandwhenyou’reolder,butthebest
thingin your life is whenyou can goyourself to the
bathroom.”
She told me that in February she would turn one hundred.
“That’s amazing,” I said.
“That’s old,” she replied.
Itoldhermygrandfatherlivedtoalmostonehundredand
ten.
“God forbid,” she said.
Justafewyearsearliershe’dhadherownapartment.“I
wassohappy there.Iwasliving.Iwaslivingtheway
peopleshouldlive:Ihadfriends,Iplayedgames.Oneof
them wouldtake thecar, and we’dgo. I wasliving.”
Then came the sciatica, the falls, and the loss of her
vision.Shewasmovedintoanursinghome,adifferent
one, and the experience was terrible. She lost almost
everything that was her own—her furniture, her
keepsakes—andfoundherselfin asharedroom, witha
regimentedscheduleandacrucifixoverherbed,“which,
being Jewish, I didn’t appreciate.”
ShewasthereforayearbeforemovingtoNewBridge,
anditwas,shesaid,“Nocomparison.Nocomparison.”
This was the opposite of Goffman’s asylum. Human
beings,thepioneerswerelearning,haveaneedforboth
privacyand community,forflexibledailyrhythms and
patterns, and for the possibility of forming caring