The protagonist of these pictures is Grandma Lucia, born in 1925.
In a society which constantly portrays and pursues youth, its strenght and its independence, I have wanted to linger on its exact opposite: old age.
Growing old is like turning into children again, but while it is easy to accept the tantrums of a child, his constant need of attention and his complete dependence on others, the same can not be said about the elderly: they are avoided, ignored, and their needs are perceived as annoying. We often refuse a destiny which is common to us all: the body loses its strenght, lucidity weakens, and even the simplest daily tasks need assistance and help.
Lucia has not been self-sufficient for a long time now.
She needs to be washed, to be helped sit up and lay down.
Recently she has suffered a fracture which has required an operation, hospitalization and physiotherapy.
After discharge, the house she had been living in with her daughter has turned into a hospital room itself. A bed has taken the place of the big lunch table, a patient hoist has replaced the chairs; the bathroom, as well as her customary bedroom. is upstairs so it is impossible to reach.
Recently she has suffered a fracture which has required an operation, hospitalization and physiotherapy.
After discharge, the house she had been living in with her daughter has turned into a hospital room itself. A bed has taken the place of the big lunch table, a patient hoist has replaced the chairs; the bathroom, as well as her customary bedroom. is upstairs so it is impossible to reach.
Her assistance completely depends on her relatives' affection. Our Country does not respect nor supports situations like hers, invalidity pensions are often insufficient to sustain one's primary needs.
In these conditions, solitude creeps in. Depending completely on others makes you feel alone, getting eccessively tired performing an easy daily task makes you feel alone; paradoxically, when you are assisted non-stop, you are alone.
Grandma Lucia, however, is lucky: her family looks after her, her grandchildren make jokes about her supposedly scarce lucidity, and she plays along: it makes her feel alive.
She is a strong woman, she has faced loss and defeat in her life, and has always rised up again.
She has grown a daughter alone in times when being a single mother was shameful and humiliating.
She has suffered mental disease in times when this would lead you to asylum and electroshock.
She has looked after her old and sick father herself.
She has survived all of this, and I want to narrate her story.
Also because, a few days ago, Grandma Lucia started going up the stairs again.
