Posted on 01/21/2006 11:43:58 AM PST by Lorianne
Part of caring for an elderly parent is confronting one's own mortality. Martha Wegner admits her first reaction to her mother's aging was childish anger and denial. Now she's resolved to care for the woman who took such good care of her.
Frankly, it was a little embarrassing: 45 years old and my parents were taking my sister and me on a vacation.
But who was I to argue against a free trip away from the stresses of parenthood and daily life? At least we weren't traveling in the family station wagon. This time it was a big cruise ship, four nights and five days through the Caribbean.
This cruise business is something my folks do a lot of. They're retired now and spend half the year in Appleton, Wis., and half the year in Naples, Fla. Cruises fit in with their very active, very healthy lifestyle. When my dad gets into port he looks for the nearest golf course. My mom might catch a tour bus with the new friends she's met on the ship. My folks have always been that way. Busy, healthy, vigorous. And they were meant to stay that way.
But something happened to my mom on the way to turning 75 and I hadn't even noticed it. Her hip started hurting. She stopped swinging her arms when she walked. Her handwriting got so small as to be almost illegible. Her son-in-law, my sister's husband, the doctor, took one look at her and said "Parkinson's." And darned if he wasn't right.
'Mommy Is Sick' When I tell my 7-year-old son that "mommy is sick," his first reaction is: "So, does this mean we don't get to go to the swimming pool like you promised?" No words of consolation, no attempt to make his mom more comfortable. Instead, it's, "How is this illness going to affect me and my world?"
It's funny that no matter how old you get, when it is your mother getting sick, you still want to stomp your foot and demand, "OK, so how is this going to affect me?"
That's how it was for me on the cruise. I couldn't help it. I was annoyed. Annoyed that she couldn't climb the steps to the top of the lighthouse, so I had to do it all alone. Irritated that she couldn't go shopping with me. And just a little disgusted that we had to rent a wheelchair to tour the town.
I am a loving, dutiful daughter. I tried hard to conceal my irritation on this trip. I hope she didn't notice it. I hope she doesn't notice it now.
Angry About Getting Old After I returned from the cruise, I talked to my friend, Kathie, about this new development. She told me that a few years ago she went to Las Vegas with her mom. Kathie found herself feeling impatient with her mom's slowing pace. Her mom said, "You're mad at me." Kathie denied it, but her mom stood firm. "You're angry with me because I'm getting old, and you don't want me to get old."
That's it. Exactly. I am angry. My mother is not supposed to get old. Like a child throwing a temper tantrum at the candy counter, I'm yelling, "It's not fair! You're supposed to be around forever. You're supposed to bake cinnamon rolls at Christmas and teach my son how to ride a bike. You're supposed to give me advice about my job and play with my kids at the pool. You're supposed to be there whenever I need you."
I don't want to feel this way, but there it is.
So it seems the tide is turning and I will need to start taking care of my mother, just as she cared for her own aging mother and just as women do for the generation that came before them. It's a new passage for me, caring for the woman who cared for me all those years. It was a threshold I hadn't even considered crossing. But cross it I must and cross it I will.
Already I am taking her arm when we walk, helping her out of her chair and doing some light housework whenever I visit. The future is uncertain, but it is safe--and very sad--to say that she will become less and less able to do things for herself. Cooking, cleaning and even her beloved painting classes will become parts of her healthy past. She will need my help more than ever.
My Mirrored Image My parents had a room down the hall from mine on the cruise ship. One evening as I emerged from my room, I looked down that hall and for a split second I saw myself in the mirror. But it turned out not to be a mirror image of me at all. It was my mother, whom I have always very closely resembled. There she stood, an older version of myself. Instead of paying for a digitally enhanced computer image of myself in 30 years, I got a look for free.
The picture I saw was a lovely gray-haired woman who was walking slowly down the hall toward me, a big smile on her face. The gait was slower, but the spirit and joy she had while I was growing up remained.
She was herself. She deserved to be loved and cared for, just as she has cared for me all these years and just as I hope someone will care for me in 30 years.
It will be difficult. And I will still be sad and angry about it. But after all the tears and denial are done with, I know I can act like a grown-up after all. I'm getting ready to cross that threshold.
It's all about MEEEEEEEE....
If she thinks it's tough now, wait til she has to bury a parent. The hardest part for me was looking at my dad's hands. I thought of all the things he'd done with them. He was an appliance repairman and put up antenna towers in the days before cable. He's always worked with his hands. Of course, her experience is different from mine. I don't see a 74 year old woman when I'm with my mom, now. I see the woman that raised me. I've never gotten impatient with her, I don't think. It sends a chill through me when she asks me to help her with the things she used to handle easily.
My mother died two weeks ago at the age of 80. She lived with me for the past 7 years, the past 3 of which she was basically bedridden. Is it hard? Yes...is it painful? Yes...Did I sacrifice a lot? ABSOLUTELY. Would I have changd a minute of it...NO.
have you ever taken care of a parent? 24/7? This woman is being honest and I commend her for it. If it were all about HER, she wouldn't be thinking about what it's going to be like to take care of an aging parent. Not enough people do. Just go to your local nursing home and you'll see what I'm talking about.
My husband is with his dying father as I type this. He called me this morning sobbing "We can't wake him up"
God bless you and your mother. Losing a parent is one of those painful experiences that has no effective words to describe.
I am so grateful my husband can be with his dad at the end of his life.
This self-pitying bimbo should count her blessings. My mother died at age 67 after 6 months of illness after about 18 months retirement. You'll never miss anyone the way you miss your mom, and that's the truth.
Being there when they are dying is easy (I'm not sure if that's the right word, but it's the only one I can come up with right now). It's all the time leading up to it that's hard. when I realized my mother was in the dying process I was relieved that her suffering was ending and I knew she was on her way to a better place. It's wonderful that he can be there with him when he goes. It's a moment he'll never forget.
I agree that she was just being honest and was, in fact, chastising herself for her urge to whine. I work in long term care and every day I am reminded of what the future holds. Some days it feels like a prison for me; I can only imagine what it feels like for the patients. This woman had a loving mother; imagine the inner war that is waged when one is faced with caring for an aging parent who didn't care for their children. Many people try to the best for their parents anyway; others dump them and run.
He is scheduled to come home tomorrow. Not sure what he's going to do considering the situation.
I just wish it was over. For everyone's sake.
I spent a good part of my thirties taking care of my dying mother. It's just an adjustment you have to make. I think it's harder for people whose parents have always been extremely competent and independent, because they aren't used to demands suddenly flowing in the opposite direction. My mother hadn't been the independent type at all, so the transition to dealing with her physical health problems on top of her pre-existing emotional/mental issues was more gradual.
No, I know it's very difficult to take care of an aging parent - my husband (a nurse) and I once ran a church nursing home, and had to deal with many adult children who simply couldn't cope with their aging parents anymore. They felt guilty about not caring personally for their mother or father, but frankly, there was no way they could possibly have provided the type of care they needed. However, in some cases they had to take second jobs to pay for the nursing home.
But the article was all about her and had a very whiny tone.
no surprise then that she would put out such leftist, selfish twaddle!
You work in long-term care so you know what I'm talking about. As I prepare for the next part of my life, sometimes I think now that's all I really know now: taking care of elderly people. It's the only thing I did that was really important. (I never had children).
What a total loser.
." It's the only thing I did that was really important"
I can't think of anything more important.
My feelings exactly. Just a tad self-involved, are we? She is one of the reasons I hate to admit I'm a Baby-Boomer.
I'm curious as to why there are some here that think she is self-involved? Thinking about taking care of an elderly parent is the opposite of self-involved, in my estimation...please explain.
BUMP for later.
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