SINGAPORE – At a recent lunch with my extended family, a server asked for a show of hands by senior citizens at the table, as they would qualify for a lower-priced menu.
I watched as half of my dining companions responded. They were between the ages of 65 and 83.
The visual was startling. It was much like getting a snapshot of an ageing society. But this is the reality that my family has faced for several years.
Making plans for a meal now involves more than settling on a time and restaurant.
Just as crucial is the walking distance between the drop-off point and the establishment. Venues that involve many flights of stairs are a hard “no”, as stiffer hips and knees have made climbing an ordeal for my elderly relatives.
There is also the consideration of wheelchair accessibility, as one of my aunts uses one to get around.
I have learnt to keep my schedule free on Sundays – designated family days – as gatherings get extended by additional toilet trips and coffee breaks.
This came after much frustration on past occasions, as I watched the clock and calculated whether I needed to drop my other plans.
Caregiving is a roller coaster of emotions, the biggest of which is grief from watching my loved ones slow down.
My mum has been laden with a growing number of doctors’ appointments. Her hearing is not as sharp as before, and I often startle her with my movements around the house.
My eldest aunt and her husband struggle to walk long distances and have been increasingly accident-prone.
Two other aunts, who are single and live together, have been through numerous health issues. One is the aunt who uses a wheelchair. The other, a cancer survivor, is on the mend from a knee surgery.
Because my family is close, caring for all of them comes quite naturally.
This usually looks like offering them my arm for additional support, or accompanying them to appointments.
But equally important to me is the less tangible aspect of maintaining a channel of communication, for everything from sharing photographs to verifying whether videos they came across on social media were AI-generated.
My caregiving responsibilities are nowhere near what some children taking care of their parents and seniors caring for other seniors undertake, and I respect such individuals immensely.
But having a semblance of these responsibilities since my early 30s has changed me, and I know they will only grow.
After all, Singapore is projected to become a super-aged society in 2026, where at least 21 per cent of the population is aged 65 or older. By 2030, about one in four Singaporeans will be in this age group.
Here are the approaches to caregiving that have worked for me.
Caregiving can feel like an incredibly lonely road because it is not a shared experience among my peers.
I have envied how they seem far more carefree as their loved ones are less advanced in age.
When they ask about my family, I am conscious that I sound like a broken record, as some of their health challenges are almost irreversible.
I see how caregivers can benefit from airing their struggles, through support programmes such as one run by social service agency MINDS, which is targeted at youth caring for siblings with special needs.
I have found that being honest with my friends about the situation helps, even if it means indicating that my social battery is running low.
At work, I am also open about my caregiving responsibilities, as it can sometimes feel like an invisible burden.
It is a facet of life that I hope will be increasingly recognised through benefits, such as family care leave and flexible working schedules.
As a journalist, I have tried to strike a balance. I have turned down overseas assignments when it has been a difficult time at home, but I have also told my family to make arrangements so that I can take on work trips, which I enjoy.
One of the best decisions I made was to renovate the HDB flat that my mum and I live in.
It was a mammoth refresh I had put off for many years, and something I thought I would embark on only when she was less mobile.
In hindsight, I am glad I did it pre-emptively, spurred by her nagging, as I could not have done it alone.
I had severely underestimated the task of decluttering, and the fatigue of making what seemed like a million decisions on what we wanted the space to be.
We used the renovation as an opportunity to “elder-proof” the house. This included making the toilet wheelchair-accessible by flattening out a step at the entrance, and installing grab bars and a seat in the shower.
The Enhancement for Active Seniors programme, which subsidises ageing-friendly features for homes, is worth checking out.
Previously available only to HDB dwellers, it was extended to seniors living in private homes earlier this year.
The reality of seniors being less mobile is spending more time at home with them.
My loved ones and I have enjoyed activities such as watching movies, playing games and assembling increasingly complicated Lego sets.
We have also ventured out with some planning, including the occasional treat of watching musicals, where paying for a valet service has saved us the hassle of navigating around carparks.
My mum, aunts and I even managed to take a trip to France last year, with a meticulous itinerary that involved liaising with the airline, train operator and hotel providers, and coming up with contingency plans.
I made sure to book a tour around the Louvre Museum with a company that specialised in wheelchair-accessible routes.
To our delight, the guide whisked us into a special lane to view the Mona Lisa up close – an experience we still fondly recount today.
On some Sundays, I cannot help but wonder where the time has gone, as my relatives used to be able to participate in many more activities.
But on most occasions, my cousins and I gleefully tuck into meals, and laugh as our elders chatter on about their week and “senior moments”.
Perhaps that is what living my best life looks like now – being present and open to slowing down.
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