What I've Learned

What I've Learned...

    Perhaps I should have properly titled this, "what I think I've learned," or "what I hope I've learned," at least regarding that of a child now being an adult.  As you've likely noticed, there was another gap in these postings, that being the result of my again visiting my mother, helping her in her transition out of rehabilitation after her fall.  And make no mistake, my mother is a bit limited in her movements, pressured by visiting nurses and therapists to always think of BLT (not the sandwich but the moniker to not Bend, Lift, or Twist), but far from immobile.  Those movement restrictions prove rather limiting for her, as she wants to get back to driving, back to weeding, back to hanging clothes, back to her lifestyle of old.  And did I mention that she turns 90 in a month?

   This is not meant to sound as if I'm whining or complaining about the visits, not by any means. Perhaps, like many of us with a parent or parents, it is merely a bit of frustration and growing impatience, all mixed with a dash of thanks and tolerance, a small payback of sorts for all the years spent raising us (me) through early years.  No, what I am going through with the visits and time with my mother pales in comparison to those whose loved ones are disabled, either mentally or physically, be that a child or a sibling or a parent or a spouse.  One reads about people caring for someone for years or sometimes decades, their own lives virtually put on hold or finished and their "free" moments virtually gone.  Each night, they go to bed exhausted, each morning they face the same selfless routine, each hour they do nothing but give.  To those people, despite what we may witness as a rough moment or two, hats off.  Their frustration, their lack of patience, their sacrifice, are all (for the most part, at least) beyond our understanding.  It is one of those situations, such as being paralyzed or being addicted or being homeless or being pimped, those situations that we will be so unable to relate to unless we are there, living the situation and not seeing any light ahead, that of truly being in "a dark place."

   But back to the original thought, no, my mother is far from that state.  Actually, other than a bit of pain and a bit of loss of motion, she is doing rather well (or so say the visiting therapists and nurses).  She is still there right beside me like a pesky fly, even as I try to do things for her, always the mother, always wanting to serve me;  and like most mothers, she'll likely be like that even if plastered to a hospital bed, gracious and thanking others, but never herself.  No, mom, I'm not very hungry, and yet, the sandwich appears, complete with everything I usually don't eat, from potato salad to chips and a pickle.  She is just (and perhaps I should capitalize those letters with pride since I will likely never reach her status) being a mother...hats off to all mothers, recognized, unrecognized and otherwise.

   Still, I came home with a few thoughts, trying over and over to put myself in her place, in her mind.  What does someone of that age think about?  Is the end of life so near that it saturates your alone time (my mother lives by herself, still in her own home and still feeding the outdoor cat)?  And when a fall or injury comes, do those thoughts accelerate?  Or are those thoughts there at all?  As a son or daughter, one's reaction to an elderly parent is of course to try and care for them, to do what you can for them while realizing your own obligations and family responsibilities, especially to spouse and children.  And all usually goes quite smoothly, until it doesn't.  Alzheimer's strikes, or an accident, or a heart attack or a rapid cancer spread, and then the juggling of balls begins.  For my brother and me, the balls have been rather large and inflated, making them somewhat easy to juggle.  Our mother is still independent (no need to start searching for assisted- or nursing-home facilities), still drives (no need to set up alternate transportation for food and other deliveries), and still mentally alert (still studies her bills and statements with detail, and remembers what she reads, calling up the bank or company if there's a mistake of even a dollar).  Of course, my brother and I have done all that already, researched the facilities and deliveries and organizing some of her bills and important numbers so that they are easier to find and keep together, placing dry-erase boards everywhere, opening day planners and filling in what we can, cross-referencing addresses and numbers of doctors and electricians and plumbers by name and title, sticking Post-its on every calendar. 

   My situation is not unique by any means for many of you have already gone through it (or most certainly will at some point), all of which has been captured nicely in the best-selling book Bobby Wonderful by Bob Morris.  Subtitled "an imperfect son buries his parents," the jacket sums up the book this way: How does an adult child with flaws and limitations figure out how to do his best for his ailing parents while still carrying on his own life?  In an interview with Newsday, author Morris adds: I hope it'll (the book) inspire other middle-age folks to feel braver and better about what's ahead with their parents. Especially when you don't have kids of your own, the passing of parents is a very primal and primary occurrence. I was lucky enough to be there when the people who gave me my first breath took their last.  65 million people are estimated to be caretakers, he says in his book:  Saying good-bye to the parents.  Facing their last years, if not with valor, then at least with humor and equanimity...How did any of us become old enough to see things like this?  It's hard to imagine because we're a generation so adamant about maintaining our youth.  And like us, our parents are pushing the boundaries too.  They are fit and vital and not about to let anyone shove them aside...This, in part, is why it shocks us when they're really at the end.

   So what have I learned so far, at least from the visits to my mother these past few weeks and months?  Summed up, a lot including: Accept, Back Off, Be There, Give In, Have Patience, Listen, and Theirs Is Theirs...and yes, like a bad television show filled with commercials, all will be elaborated on in the next post, out tomorrow (hey, I'm back for now...at least for the moment).