On the whole, almost all the seniors I know are a pretty tough lot. They have survived the Great Depression, World War 11, raising families, various ailments, great upheavals in their personal and business lives and they have not only survived, but thrived. Many are in their late eighties or early nineties. They are indomitable and independent.

However, sometimes their families, friends or health professionals are inclined to look at small misfor-tunes, little lapses or minor accidents and become overly concerned. They want to ward off all dan-ger. I believe that some of this stems from selfishness in the form of not wanting a guilty conscience over what they regard as premature death.

A particularly sad case springs to mind. A dear friend of ours had lived in his house for over fifty years, was an ardent gardener, loved pottering about and enjoyed cooking. A year after his wife died he slipped in the garden, hit his head on a stone and was unconscious. A new neighbour saw him and called 911. Joe wound up in emergency, mentioned living alone, was checked over, found to be all right and sent home. His son was notified. About two months later, Joe tripped in the living room, hit his head on a small table and wound up with a terrific shiner but was unhurt otherwise. His son, lunching with him the next day, was far more upset than Joe about the black eye. He worried about his father's safety, and thus began a sad chain of events.

Junior spoke to a hospital social worker, a geriatric consultant, and Joe's new doctor (the old one had died). They looked at Joe's age (late eighties) and the fact that he COOKED on a STOVE and lived in a two-storey house with STAIRS. They felt that he was in IMMINENT DANGER of some sort of disaster. Everyone ignored the fact that Joe loved that house with every fibre of his being, knew every floorboard, every doorway, and could find his way around in the dark. His memory was good and he enjoyed reading and music but missed his wife greatly. They exerted tremendous pressure on him and finally he agreed to sell the house and enter a seniors retirement home. My husband and I were quite upset and wrote to his son saying that we felt it was a terrible mistake. We knew it was interfering, but felt it a risk worth taking. No dice.

The first time we visited the "small homey" residence recommended by the consultant I cried all the way home. It was a six-bedroom home with all the closed-door rooms on either side of a dim hallway at the top of a steep narrow staircase. The "beautiful garden" was a waist-high two-foot trough down one side of the backyard, with a few annuals. Joe said that his own cooking had been much better. We told his son what we thought.

Junior moved him to a lovely residence in Don Mills but Joe was becoming depressed. He was fond of band music so we took along a couple of tapes and had a good visit with him. A young male attendant walked with us as we left and confided that he was worried about Joe. He was spending most of his time alone in his room, not participating in any activities and was eating little and had lost weight. Sometimes he mentioned missing his home. His son took him to lunch once a week but was a busy executive and traveled frequently.

Joe died of pneumonia (and heartbreak) one year and one month after entering the residence. My husband and I were sure that had he remained in his house, he would have lived into his nineties. And if he had had a fatal accident, he would have died happy.

The Joes of our society may need a little more attention but surely a regular phone call or visit would do. A sensible assessment of risk against the emotional trauma of loss of independence is required. Seniors are human beings and should remain in control of their own lives without undue pressure, unless serious mental or physical impairment is present. Having survived the vicissitudes of life they do not deserve to be removed from their homes after a minor accident or two. There are worse things than death.

Shirley Bush, Toronto