Caring for Aging Parents | IN Close

I was one of five boys in a Presbyterian minister's family, to which everyone would always say, you're a poor mother. And how dad did it on a pastor's meager salary, beyond me. Mom and dad were incredibly active with us. We hiked and camped and explored every corner of the state. Dad was always interested in everything. He always had a new hobby. Mom always had a full-time job, of course, as a mother and a pastor's wife. But when she was in her 40s, she went back to school and became a nurse and started another career. What I think about every day is, we don't have a lot of time left to be together. And at a time when my parents need me, I wonder where am I going to find even more time. Mom and dad moved to a retirement community five years ago, about a half an hour away from me. Mom didn't have to cook as much, and dad finally gave up driving. The social community was good for them. Hi, Imani. Hi, how are you? Good. Like most folks in their 90s, they have issues, hearing and memory loss, and some medical problems. But things went well, until last year, when it was obvious they needed a higher level of care. How are you? I'm good, how are you doing? It was time for them to move from independent to assisted living. Dad refused, even though it was in the same complex. No more change, he said. It was difficult, until the fall. We knew that one of them would probably fall at some point, and we always thought it would be mom falling and breaking her hip, since she'd become more and more unsteady. The fall changed everything. He was making breakfast, as he always did, and I was just getting out of bed in the other room, and all of a sudden, he started screaming, and he didn't stop. Dad fell, breaking his 92-year-old leg, his femur. The repair was difficult, screwing and lashing his brittle bones together, hoping for the best. So mom and dad are apart, for the first time in 72 years. While dad was in the hospital, we moved her to assisted living. We tried to make the new apartment as similar as possible to the old one. Everybody came together to get mom settled after so much change and trauma. We knew this was an entirely new ballgame. My brothers and their families, though some of them live far away, they all pitch in. We're lucky. We all get along. I can't imagine doing it yourself. I get bills on either you or dad from your medical care about every other day. My oldest brother, Ted, a retired physician, lives two hours away. He's able to help with the big decisions, the medical management, and he manages their bills. I found this on the floor. This is a battery for your hearing aid. We make plans for our future, not counting on that we're going to take care of our parents forever. I think the biggest problem for me is that I never quite know what's going to happen next. Either mom thinks there's an emergency, or there really is an emergency. Dad falls, or somebody falls. And, you know, trying to, from long distance, figure out how important these things are. Dad has been in a convalescent home for four months, four months of waiting to see if his bones will heal. That first night, he was on a mattress on the floor. They were afraid he'd roll out of a bed and mess up his leg. He looked so alone and scared, and the first few weeks, he was really out of it. He was confused, and I thought, this is the beginning of the end. He wasn't going to walk again, and maybe he wasn't even going to make it out of there. But slowly, recovery began. Dad is the most determined person I know. He'd call it faith, working at something, ignoring your own doubts. Pretty soon, you'll be out there walking in the sunlight, Dad. I'm going to try it tomorrow. His Bible has never been far away from his eyes. He started doing puzzles and crossword. He'd wheel around the wing, visiting and praying with other patients, most of whom were silent with Alzheimer's. And every week, he was clearer, a little stronger. Rare is the day when Mom doesn't go to visit Dad, by us or by bus. Do you want me to take your cane? It's just the latest chapter in a long, devoted routine. Hey, look who I found. I found a pretty girl waiting outside. Do I get to kiss you? This time together is always touching and important for us all. I want Dad to feel connected and in control of his life. You haven't changed in 77 years. It's hard to see my parents struggle with what should be simple. I have to remember to respect their independence. I often feel as if I'm hovering like an over-anxious parent. I am not their parent, and they are not children. But the feeling, the sense of duty is the same. And caring for them at this time in our lives stirs up a lot of feelings. All my brothers and I feel a real mix of emotions. You know, I'm 70 years old. I realize that they're just 22 and 23 years older than me. And I think of my last 20, 22 years. That's gone by, you know, so fast. I realize, holy cow, you know, you start realizing, I start realizing my own mortality. You, yeah, I know. And the fear of decrepitude. Okay, now go and stand up for me, please. Today's the day. Yep, sir. Very nice there. After months of work, Dad's fortitude, the same stubbornness that frustrated me as a son, gets him on his feet. Right leg forward. Awesome. It's the first time he's been able to put full weight on his leg. The first test in seeing if he'll be able to walk. Oh, wow. This is amazing. Wow. Go, Dad, go. Good job today. Thank you. That was exciting. Huh? That was exciting to see you walk, to see you get up on your own two feet. That was exciting. Well, I'm happy. I've gotten so close to Mom in the last few months. We've had a lot of time together. She's been lonely without Dad. And I realized that caregiving is also the simple act of companionship, just being there. We worry about her because of her sight and her hearing. You know, the normal diversions, reading, watching TV, are very difficult for her. Yeah, but she did come up with the sentence, I just need somebody to lean on, I guess. I need a shoulder to lean on. It's finally the day. Dad gets to go home. But how is it going to work at home? He's going to a new place, new surroundings, new people. And he wouldn't admit it, but he has new needs. Are you welcoming me home? He's forgotten a lot. And Mom, too, has changed in the last four months. She's less able to help. We all hope that Dad's coming home, that his daily companionship will lift Mom's spirits, that resuming a daily routine together will help them both. I guess it's hard to argue with the success of a 72-year marriage. It's not easy, sometimes pretty hard, to know what to do. Wow. Do what we can, and keep going, and live as we can, okay? And love each other, and help each other. Is that all right? Say a few words. Say yes.