There's a place for us....

SIXTY years. That's a long time. Twenty-nine years. That, too, is a long time. On the 27th, my parents celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. Today, my hubby and I celebrate our 29th. Wow.

Looking at my parents, it's somewhat surprising they made it this long. Their marriage was similar to so many of their generation. They were YOUNG - 22 and 21. They knew nothing, hardly knew each other but liked each other well enough. They would go on to live a lifetime of adventures and heartbreaks and celebrations and sadness. Yet somehow, they survived. For some reason, they stuck together and today, I know they're glad they did. I'm glad they did.

For my hubby and I, it was a different story. We were best friends. We talked for HOURS. We knew each other so well. We built our marriage on a foundation of trust and love - solid as a rock. We needed that foundation because we too would have our share of adventure and heartbreak and celebration and sadness. Through it all, we never doubted that we would be wherever we needed to be...for each other.

For my parents' anniversary, our kids recorded one of my favorite songs ever - "Somewhere" from West Side Story. The lyrics speak perfectly to my parents' journey and transition this past year:

There's a place for us
Somewhere a place for us
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us
Somewhere

There's a time for us
Some day a time for us
Time together
With time to spare
Time to learn
Time to care
Someday

Somewhere
We'll find a new way of living
We'll find a way of forgiving
Somewhere

There's a place for us
A time and place for us
Hold my hand
And we're halfway there
Hold my hand
And I'll take you there
Somehow
Someday
Somewhere

So, please enjoy this beautiful recording of "Somewhere" performed by our children.

It's OK, I've Got This

Yesterday, I was visiting my parents and Mom was lamenting about the myriad things she's worried about (Dad's gait, the people they sit with at meals, my sister, the world in general...) and I immediately started feeling bad. My first instinct was to want to fix or address every concern that my Mom had.

That's when it hit me.

I'm my Mom's "person."

Thanks to circumstances and geography and a complete overhaul of my parents' life, I have become Mom's "person" - the one she calls when things go wrong. The one she depends on for....Depends! (Sorry, but it's true.) I'm the person upon whom she dumps her many, MANY worries. That used to be Dad, but I'm quite certain that now it's me.

Yesterday, she needed a hug and the reassurance that everything was going to be OK.  She needed me to tell her: "It's OK, I've got this."

Do I really have it? Of course not. Who does? But I instantly knew that that's what she needed to hear at that moment. She needed someone to "hug" a little sense into her.

It's kind of daunting and it's kind of humbling. I've suddenly been entrusted with the care of two more people. Just when I'm at a point of launching my own kids into the big, bad world, God (yep, I'm blaming him) decided  I should take on a couple more.

This is, in no way, an attempt to take any measure of credit. If there is credit, it goes to my hubby - MY person. He has, somehow, navigated the cold, cruel world of elder care and cobbled together a safe and caring life for my parents here in Wisconsin. It's my job to do the small things - the shopping trips, the doctor visits, the holiday arrangements. Some days that seems like a big job, but it's not really.

But just like the day you bring your first child home, the thought that you are in charge of a human...or two, or three...is scary. Knowing that you can barely care for yourself and suddenly you should look out for someone else? Crazy.

And yet, I do sometimes see it as a gift. These past few months have been a little insane, but we've managed. And now, we have stories to tell. FUNNY stories. Sad stories. Interesting stories. Our lives are now enriched because we've gone on an unexpected journey. Isn't that when life really happens?

In these days following the horrific tragedy in Newtown, CT, there has been a lot of talk about the heroism of teachers and keeping children safe. I can't imagine how teachers do what they do - lovingly care for, teach and keep children safe. I couldn't do that and I'm in awe of my sister who does. But I did see a connection to my own responsibility watching over my parents.

Yesterday, my daughter asked why I was going to see my parents. "Do they have a doctor's appointment?" she asked. "No," I responded. "I just try to see them twice a week and I only got there once last week." I wasn't saying it to pat myself on the back. But I did want her to understand that sometimes we do things that put other people first.

Perhaps someday, she'll be visiting me.

Daddy's cynical, impatient girl

If you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know that a lot of my posts have been about my Dad. I guess I'd attribute this to the fact that my father has always been a huge figure in my life. Prior to this year, I adored my Dad without hesitation. Sure, he had a few annoying habits, but that was nothing compared to how awesome he was, right?

Fast-forward to this spring when my parents moved in with us. All of a sudden, I was completely blindsided and gobsmacked by the combination of a very human/flawed person and an elderly man desperately trying to retain his dignity while, little by little, it was being stripped away. I saw the ugliness of his daily habits. I often forgot about the dementia diagnosis and lashed out when he wouldn't bend to our demands.

Basically, I saw my Dad for who he really was, AFTER being filtered through the prism of decline, decay, dementia and general inertia. The man is aging and yet my stubbornness refuses to let go of the guy that I used to know - the funny, articulate, witty, interesting and engaged individual who taught me work ethic like nobody else. How is it possible that this same person won't even get up out of his chair or worse, won't change the channel on the TV?

My Dad isn't the same person I used to know. Then again, who among us goes unchanged through life?

I inherited a lot from my Dad for which I'm thankful, except for two traits that I wish I could give back - impatience and cynicism. Neither of them are serving me well in my new role of elder careperson. They are also not serving Dad very well at this, unfortunately, sad time of his life.

For me, impatience causes me to wish my parents could walk more quickly, remember things more readily or react to virtually anything with the speed of my peers. It has just occurred to me that I seem unwilling to meet them where they are. Remember months ago, when I wrote this second post about how this all seemingly started with a prayer for patience? I find, more often than not, I haven't really done very well in that department. No doubt another lesson is waiting for me down the road.

Then there's the cynicism that I learned from my Dad. When he and I go on excursions to one of his medical appointments, I have a hard time getting him to talk. My fallback is always to ask his opinion about people or things in the news. More often than not, his answers are short on length and optimism. As prone as I am to being a "Judgy McJudgson," I too find myself expecting the negative or making judgments about people about whom I know so little. Who am I to judge?

I don't have a resolution for any of this. My current relationship with my Dad is tenuous, at best. I'd like to say that I've changed, but I probably haven't. I constantly have to remind myself of how far he's fallen and how difficult that must be for him. My hope is that I can get into the habit of remembering to be patient and non-judgmental, something that does not come easily at all.

Perhaps I'd do well to remember the wise words of Aibileen:

A work in progress

I guess this is it. The way things will be...at least for a while. I'm starting to realize that life is a series of scenes, ever-changing. Things never really "settle down." They just remain stable...for a little while. And then they change again. Because kids grow, parents age, health declines. I'm not depressed, really. I'm just feeling a sense of clarity.

I've been having this interior struggle: The other day, I had this absolutely daunting, overwhelming thought - I've taken over my parents' lives. Although it was done with the blessings of my siblings and with the reluctant acceptance of Mom and Dad, I still realize that they are largely dependent upon me and Hubby. Wow. In some ways, this feels like being a new mom again - kinda scary.

Then again, the Control Freak side of me sort of likes the fact that I can positively affect their life. Is that weird? I just think back to the past several years. So often I would think: Gosh, I wish Mom and Dad lived closer so I could do this with them, or show them this or share this with them. Now I can, within limited means. We're still dealing with physical issues - poor vision, dementia, gait impairment - but there are a few things I can now do because they live closer to us.

So my life has settled into a bit of a routine. I try to go to Mom and Dad's at least two times a week. Mom calls with a shopping list of necessities and I purchase those along with a few treats - candy or other sweets that I know will brighten Dad's eyes. It's not much and most of the time, it feels woefully inadequate, but knowing they're safe and looked-after, is about the best we can do right now.

On the bright side, I'm loving the little chats that I have with Mom when I visit. She's a sharp one - doesn't miss a beat - fills me in on all the hubub at the facility. Some of it kind of funny, some good, but some not-so-good. And when it's not-so-good, that's when the guilt sets in. When she makes comments about how there's not much staff on weekends and it's really quiet - I brush it off, but I never really get rid of it.

That's when I have to remind myself that in many ways, we're in WAY better shape than so many other families who are struggling with what to do with our parents. Many friends have told me that they are thinking ahead and concerned about what they will do in the next few years. That's when I feel really proud. It wasn't perfect, but we did it. We stepped into my parents' lives and did the best thing we could.

Maybe it's because I'm feeling so impacted (or is it snake bitten?) by this experience, I'm now starting to think ahead...WAY ahead to what will happen to Hubby and me. We're only 52 and 53 years old, but the years speed by. The time to prepare is now, right?

I guess that's my new mission - spreading the message of "preparedness." It's never too early.

Meloncholia

So, we went on vacation for a week. That was nice. Got away. Felt like old times. Thought about the folks a little, but I'll be honest - not a lot. And still, while we were gone, Hubby was on the phone with a government agency questioning more of Mom and Dad's bills. I could hear the frustration and concern in his voice. The finances never seem to be the easy part. Seriously, people. Start stockpiling money NOW. Being old is a pricey proposition...at best. A financial juggernaut the size and effect of the Hindenberg and the Titanic all rolled up in one.

Yesterday, I knew I had to call Mom and check in. Asked her if everything was going OK. I was stupid enough to let myself imagine that she'd respond "Oh, everything is great!"

Nope.

Instead, I got a litany of mild to moderate complaints. Here, in no particular order are the things that are of concern to Mom:

- Mom and Dad miss their house...a lot.
- The Assisted Living staff is constantly changing. Mom said the nurses are different every day.
- The generic "Depends" I bought her are terrible.
- Mom and Dad want soup and crackers...because dinners aren't good there.
- They probably can't even vote...or don't know where/how to vote.
- Dad has lots of questions about money, etc. We need to talk to him.
- Mom saw another resident's apartment and it has VALANCES. Clearly, that's the secret to making these apartments look like a home. Apparently, their apartment feels like crap in comparison. (Yes, I inserted adjectives in there.) 
- There are rumors of two new couples moving in. She said this in a negative tone...as if this will upset their life in some way.

Honestly, it was a very depressing conversation. I tried my best to let Mom vent. After all, who else can she really talk to? If she's afraid to air her grievances with me, she'll just bottle it up and feel guilty. But it made me feel TERRIBLE. I felt like I was holding them prisoner in this gawdawful place.

I reminded her of why they were there and how I wished I could do something...anything to let them live in their home, but it's not possible. She understood, but I could tell that there was this lingering pall over their life.

Really, this shouldn't be a huge surprise to me. At some point, reality was going to hit them and they would have this melancholy stage. I just underestimated how much I would feel it as well.

A test we'll eventually fail.

"This has been a test of the Emergency Elder Care System." It works.

Last night, I was sitting on the couch, watching TV when the caller ID flashed the name of my parents' Assisted Living facility. "Uh oh," I said. It's the call you don't want, but you have to take.

Turns out, Dad was reaching to close the blinds in the apartment, lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. He didn't hurt himself but he couldn't get up....much like had happened many times before when my parents lived alone.

Fortunately, my Mom or Dad pulled the little cord thingy on the wall and somebody came to help him up. They also took his vital signs to make sure he was OK. Then I was called...twice. Once last night and once this morning. It was reassuring to know that everybody was OK and they had survived this incident.

Phew....sort of.

See, the thing is, although I'm totally relieved that Dad fell in a place that is safe and where they were there to pick him up, the problem is that he still fell. And when will he fall and hurt himself? I know it will happen...eventually. No, I'm not being all Negative Nancy, I'm being Realistic Rita. Because here's the cold, hard truth about all of our parents - Eventually, they will fail. I know it. You know it. We all know it. The question really becomes: Who will be there to pick them up and what's the next step?

No news is good news

It's been way too long since I've posted - over a week - and I know what you're thinking: "Out of sight, out of mind." Well, I admit, that's KIND of true. Now that the parents are in the assisted living facility, I do admit to selfishly enjoying every single damn moment of the empty nest. Dang, this is nice. I love everything about it - making plans with Hubby, NOT making dinner, rarely grocery shopping, coming and going when I please. I admit it, I'm one selfish person. But at least I admit it, right?

Back at the assisted facility, Mom and Dad are adjusting nicely. Is it perfect? No. Apparently Mom gets awakened every morning at 6am to get some of her medication. I guess it's a little unnerving that they just walk into the apartment. Then again, they do this so that some time passes between the time she gets her medication and the time that she eats. Her at our house, she'd simply sit around and not eat for a while. They have a schedule. They can't be feeding people at all times of the day. I'm sure my parents don't love that their meal times are rarely if ever changed, but then again, it's something stable and constant which, in elder care, is really important.

Then there's the food. I've basically been avoiding the topic with my parents. Not that I don't care, but because I can't fix it. I can't change it. It is what it is. Yes, I wish that they loved it, but they don't. They don't hate it, but it's not the be-all, end-all. Mom basically says,"It's not bad, but there's just something missing." So instead, I'm trying to sneak them out for some meals at restaurants when I can. Today, for instance, Hubby and I are taking them to dinner at a nice steak place near them. I'm kind of excited and they are too! Mom asked me when I called her about it: "Are you sure you want to come down here today?" Isn't she too sweet? She also said: "That will really be a treat for us!" Man, if I can make somebody's day by taking them to dinner, life is pretty damn good.

On the negative side, we're having some family fireworks. My sister and I are thick as thieves. We stay connected and work together as much as possible. My brother is another story. I don't want to air the family dirty laundry, but we are no way on the same page. We're not even in the same book. He's frustrated and feeling guilty because he can't do as much to contribute to the cause and so he's flipping things around and making my sister and I feel like we did something wrong. It's maddening. I feel angry and frustrated myself. My first instinct is to lash out at him, but I know, deep down, that won't help anything. I have to swallow my pride and fix it. It's what I do. I'm kind of the family fixer. (I'm a Libra - it's a genetic thing.) The problem is, I'm not sure it can be fixed. But here's the thing: What matters more than anything else to my parents is that we kids get along. It's all they care about. Damn, this is hard.

So that's an update. Nothing special. Nothing earth-shattering, but that's actually good. No news is actually good news.