Parenting your Parent

Son, Lewis, with mother Beverly Lewis

Yesterday while doing an Antique Show in Richmond VA I ran into a gal who had attended Walter Heron Taylor Elementary School, in Norfolk VA with me during Fifth grade. We discovered  years ago when we met at another Antique Show and actually recognized each other, that we were both into antiques.  We started talking about what was going on in our lives and our parents.  She was not  a care giver for her parents, but was worried over her parents both in their nineties.  Her father was in poor health and her mother had managed to get him out of  nursing home and was not able to care for him herself.  She also was worried about how they were eating, as the mother had become forgetful.

Everyone my age who still has a parent alive, has to face the job of becoming, if not a parent to their parent, at least a guardian of some sort.  There are all sorts of people who could prey upon the elderly.  Even if that parent is in a facility, much time and attention is required.  My mother broke her knee cap several years ago and spent a month in an extended care facility.  I ran my self ragged trying to make sure that she got the proper care.  So many elderly people are neglected in nursing homes.

Mother has been living with me for over two years.  Lewis is basically camping with us in order to help us out.  Mother's short term memory has continued to decline.  There for a while her short term memory was not so bad, gradually the length of time she could retain new information became shorter and shorter.  Now her retention is so short that she can no longer take simple instructions.  She becomes confused and frustrated lashing out in her frustration, becoming mad at either Lewis or myself.  She will put what ever is near down with a bang and stomp off to her room slamming the door.  This is usually over something small. The learning curve here is not to get caught up in this, but to sit back and not react.  Easy to say, harder to do.  Especially when you remember  the rational person she used to be.  Underneath it all, one must try to remember that she is still herself but greatly handicapped by her mind.  The seed is still there. She wants to do what she used to do, and resents not being able.  She will fixate on the animals, their needs, whether they are in or out walking back and forth checking food bowls, and the doors for cat or dogs.  Finally, I have gotten a pill to keep her from fixating before bed.  I'm not sure whether this was for her or for me. I mourn the lack of time for myself.  Still I would not do anything different.  I have become my mother's mother.

Yesterday I visited with a friend who is home bound, not because of her health, but because she is the sole care taker for her elderly mother who is in the late stages of dementia or Alzheimers.  Her mother can barely hold up her head and continually chokes while eating.  Although she occasionally has the hospices nurses help, she is fighting for her own health and sanity.  Making ends meet financially is a real problem.  She is not old enough for social security, but can not work and take care of her mother.  She is caught in a trap and because she cares and loves her mother she will remain there.

I can not help but think about how awful it would be to find your mind slipping away.  The essence of you I am sure stays to the point where you loose it all.  This has got to be hell on earth, to be but not to be.  Bless the care takers.

I am rereading this shortly after my mother passed away at ninety four and seven months.  I am so grateful that I was able to have mother living with me for several years.  The medication that was a mood modifier really helped.  Mother did not become as fretful as she had been.  She came to work with Lewis and myself for years.  She chatted up with the customers and because of her cheery attitude everyone appreciated her and asked about her once it got too much for her to be there.

A year and a half ago it became impossible for me to take care of her at home.  We got her situated in an assisted living home that was literally next door to my house.  The boys, Melissa and I carried things of hers over to make the room seem like home.  We called it her apartment.  And while she would rather have been at home with us she felt comfortable and at home there.  Because mother was a naturally sweet person everyone who met her there loved her.

One of the hardest things for me was that from a power wheel chair it is impossible to reach over in order to kiss or hug someone you love from your chair especially to some one in another wheel chair.  We did what I called monkey kisses where.  We both extended our lips in exaggerated Kissing toward to other person.  Another way to show my love was a family code of three quick squeezes of the hand meaning I Love You.  Our family has used this code for generations.

Melissa, my son Christopher's wife, came twice a week and she kept mother's hair washed and set as well as taking care of her clothes even to the point of hanging out fits together for the aids to help her dress.  Melissa made it possible for us to go out to lunch together and for me to be able to get her to the doctors appointments. Together we tried to give her some of the freedom she was used to.  Melissa truly has been our angel.