I’ve been back and forth to Louisiana, my home state, every three months or so for the past five years. Sometimes I’m able to bring my kids with me, but most of the time I make the trips alone. My parents used to make regular trips to see me and my children – at least twice a year, usually coinciding with a birthday or a holiday. When the kids were small, they’d stay for at least a week, helping out with my twins, taking trips to the zoo with us, going to little-kid soccer games, gardening vegetables with them in my garden, you name it.. They were up for doing pretty much anything with us – they loved to be helpful and LOVED playing with my kids. My dad would find things around the house that needed fixing and make trips to the local hardware store to get materials to do the job while he was in town. I was always sad to see them go, but knew there’d be a “next time.” Until there were no more next times.
My dad, long a fighter living with type 1 diabetes, started to experience multiple health problems. One problem turned into another, and then another, sometimes overlapping and sometimes resolving, but never really problem-free. One year of problems and surgeries turned into another, and then another. Every once in awhile there would be a step forward, but inevitably there were several steps back lurking around the corner for him. From far away, it was hard to imagine how he was dealing with it all – the constant pain, the immobility, the loss of self-sufficiency. The house they live in, my childhood home, is a two-story home. I think it’s been six years since my dad has seen the second story of the house. He and my mom have taken over what was once the guest room – the only bedroom downstairs. That room had to be remodeled to accommodate the wheelchair he uses. As did the bathroom. The room now has two beds – one “fancy” bed that allows for two people to lie in the bed at different head angles (I’m not sure of the name but I think it is a type of Sleep Number bed). And the other bed is a straight up hospital bed. My parents, ever frugal, had initially rented the bed, thinking it would be temporary. I think the bed has now been in our home for five years.
And then there is my mom. Committed to taking care of my dad, on her own, resisting outside help. To say that my mom is “thorough” would be an understatement. She is organized, efficient, meticulous, and above all else, dedicated. Those qualities benefited us, as kids, when growing up – she was a very diligent and “on top of things” mother. She is also extremely strong. But, the toll that caregiving has taken on her is high – and there is no end in sight. This is what worries me and my brother – we see her tongue hanging out, she sees it too, but won’t let anyone else step in to let her get a reset. I’ve stopped sending her articles and studies that show how caregivers in today’s world find ways to thrive – and still take care of their loved ones.
I had to. It was making things worse for her – and more than anything, I wanted things to be easier on her. So now, I’m on a plane. Headed back to Portland, after spending a few days with them. On the way to them, I had made a promise to myself to NOT be too pushy. To let them be, and to enjoy what time I had with them. To not keep making suggestions that I thought might “help.’ The last thing I wanted was for my parents to start to dread my visits to see them – because of my pushy, “fix it” side that always wants to “help.” For the most part, I stuck to this promise and just tried to observe and enjoy. It was hard, but it was what was needed. It was hard, though. To watch them suffer (my word, not theirs). It made me sad in a way I don’t have the words to describe. I had to keep reminding myself that this is what they have chosen (my mom, specifically). No one is forcing them to live like this. My dad doesn’t have too many other options, and I bet my mom believes she doesn’t either. And you know, hard as it is for me to watch this unfold, who am I to argue with them? They have done their job with me – they have given me so much and they are amazing people and parents. As a friend recently pointed out, of course they would want to hang onto whatever independence they can. They are faced with losing things everyday – loss of mobility, loss of memory, loss of friends who have passed. It is something that I can’t yet emotionally relate to but it is something I do understand. They have enough on their plates – I shouldn’t be the one, no matter how well-intentioned, who adds more onto them. They are facing enough loss, as is. I can’t risk becoming a part of the losses.
