| Author: |
Donna D. Hood |
| Dated: |
Wednesday, March 05 2008 @ 10:23 PM EST |
| Viewed: |
1572 times |
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Last February, my 86-year-old mother did something she swore she would never do: she moved in with one of her children, me.
Apparently, I am not alone in this. According to a 2004 AARP study, in Washington State, an estimated 877,760 adults – 19 percent of the total population, provide unpaid care to an adult relative or friend. The care and housing of the elderly needs to be addressed.
My mother is a wonderful, caring, loving, alert person and someone totally deserving of any care she gets. That does not make caring for her any easier, however; while I am concerned about the care of my mother, I am more concerned about myself and my marriage, as selfish as that may sound. My husband has been patient and understanding, but he's been away from the house more since my mother arrived.
I remember when I got the word that I needed to come get my mother. I equate it to having an adoption agency call and say Congratulations! It’s a girl. She weighs 170 pounds, is 5 feet tall and you can take her home today. That day, at age 63, I became a parent again. My husband and I lowered the bed, got a rocking chair, bought a diaper pail, got the stroller (walker), and brought our “baby” home.
The good news, bad news part was that our new ward could already talk. . . and talk. . . and talk. Not necessarily say anything, but talk and talk. And just like with a new baby, I soon discovered that being my mother’s only friend 24/7 gave my nerves a run for their money.
Suggestions for activities outside the home fall on perfectly capable of hearing, but deaf, ears. She says she loves being at home. What’s not to love? Having a personal assistant has long been a dream of mine, too. Separation is possible, but only if I leave home. If I leave for an extended period, then, just as in my child-rearing days, I have to hire help with babysitting and meal preparation.
I am so desperately trying to understand old. . . trying to understand how hard it has to get before someone will not want to do it anymore. How many medical tests and procedures will someone endure before enough is enough? How many body parts will have to wear out or be removed before someone says stop? How many of the few good years the children have left will someone take before they call it quits? And all for what: another meal, another football game, another hug from a grandchild who hasn’t a clue who they are?
What has me so frustrated and perplexed is that I think of myself as a pretty creative problem solver. But caring for the elderly is a problem for which I cannot for the life of me come up with a good solution. As my mother and I have agreed, she hates being old and dependent, and I hate her being old and dependent. We are both in mourning for our loss of freedom. She can no longer move freely about and, since she has come to live with me, neither can I. Just before she came, we purchased an expensive timeshare. Since there is no predictable end to our care giving, we may never be able to use it.
I had hopes that I could buy my way out of this. My mother has the money to pay for good care, but I cannot see paying $6,500 every thirty days.
Even if she were not in my home, I would still be responsible for her well-being, as I have been since my dad died some 32 years ago. I would still have to go see about her and be sure, because she is losing her eyesight, that she was not being, pardon the expression, robbed blind. She and I have never felt more trapped – she in old age and me by old age.
The old taking care of the old is becoming a real problem. I have a 74-year-old friend taking care of her 80-year-old-husband and her 98-year-old mother. In the back of my mind, I’m thinking – this could happen to me. Actually, at 63, I’m thinking this has happened to me. I’m exhausted most of the time.
On the intergenerational topic, I would like to pass along a comment from a group of women ages 65 and 84 who were discussing the founding concept of The Commons, a proposed inter-generational gathering place. A 65-year old who is raising her grandchildren said she would never go somewhere to be with teenagers, she had enough of that at home. An 84-year-old said, she wouldn’t go somewhere to hang out with a bunch of old people. I’m not too sure that intergenerational concept was very well thought out. I certainly am not looking for any 80+ friends. And if my efforts to work my mother into activities at the Senior Center are any example, neither is anyone else.
I had an interesting conversation with a 70-year old doctor specializing in geriatrics. He pointed out that the profession is very short on physicians wishing to specialize in geriatrics – the young ones just don’t choose it, he said. However, the researchers are very interested in old folks. Very telling comment, I thought. All I know is my mom is on several experimental medicines. I guess becoming a laboratory rat is one way to serve.
In conclusion, when it comes to accessing services for the elderly, all it takes is someone like me to do that for them. As I like to say about my mom, she can do anything I tell her and anything I help her with, or, as we also say about the frustrating stage of life in which we find ourselves, it is what it is.
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I enjoy your ability to really open up and say how difficult this period is for you emotionally and physically. There were a few sentences that I had to read a couple times before I understood them and a couple that I understood but just found awkward. Overall I found the story to flow with nice transitions and interplay from your message to your experiences.