Today's Women of Age

I never imagined a time when I would be dealing with an aged parent. I just assumed my parents would be much like my maternal grandmother who lived alone in a two-bedroom apartment till she died a few weeks shy of her 95th birthday. It was only in the last year of her life that she hired a part-time gal to help with cooking and cleaning. Gram died with a sharp mind and mobility and it was congestive heart failure that finally did her in.

Sadly this is not my dad’s reality. Here’s the story.

After my mom died at 65 from melanoma, my dad remarried an old family friend who had lost her husband two years before. Back in the day our families had taken vacations together. My step-mom Olivia* was five years younger than my dad and a nurse and I always assumed he would decline first and she would care for him till the end. It turned out the other way round and not so pleasant. She ended up in a mental decline that caused her to lash out and be abusive to my dad.

After she died, my dad told my youngest brother he would live with him. That meant moving to another state some 1000 miles away. And at first it was okay. But after two years dad’s decline was noticeable. Emotionally, though he would never admit it, I think he was depressed. The world he knew was up north. Tennessee was nice, but not home. He stopped trying to be active and lost interest in almost everything. He even stopped going out to eat and to church–his two favorite things.

On the food front, while plenty of nutritious items were available for him at the house, his breakfast and lunch often consisted of grabbing cookies and ice cream instead of taking two minutes to make a sandwich and cut up an apple. This diet caused havoc with his diabetes creating more health problems.

When it became apparent that he needed more help than my brother, who was still working full time, could give, we found Dad a lovely retirement home nearby with nice amenities. He didn’t want to go but he realized it was “probably” necessary. He was resigned to it.

Sadly Dad, who has always been gregarious, did not try to make friends with anyone at the home. It was odd. Nor did he partake in any activities. He ate better but spent his days sitting on the couch in the lounge area watching TV all day.

After a year it was apparent again he needed to move to assisted living. So that happened. But his physical and mental health have continued to rapidly deteriorate. At times he gets in an agitated state where he feels he is being held a prisoner. He wants to escape. He laments that no one will take him to the airport. He even has a suitcase packed ready to go.

Mind you the doors are not locked. He could leave at any time. But the reality is he would not make it too far. His mobility is limited. I doubt he could make it off the property.

And it breaks my heart. He’s 95. I don’t want him to be in pain physically or mentally and he is on both fronts. I’m sad that he is so lost in memories and so desperately wants to be living the life he once had that he refuses to try and make the best of the life he has now. It disturbs me that he gets stuck in “loops” of grievances–the same ones, over and over, sometimes more embellished–instead of focusing on the good memories.

I live over 2000 miles away so I only see him on my semi-annual visits though I frequently send him books. My brother has the lion’s share of the responsibility–taking him to doctor’s appointments, buying items he needs and managing his money. I know my brother, now retired, never imagined this would be a part of his own later years. I try to help when I can and provide my brother support.

Though I could visit more, for the most part my existence means little to my father. Between my visits spaced six months apart, Dad never asks to call me or is curious about me or his only grandchildren. Which feels both strange and rather wounding.

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But I digress…

The reality is that many of us in our senior years find ourselves having to help our aging parents. I know of six people who have had to step in and provide some level of care or management for an aging parent and the overall sentiment, even though it’s done in love, is that this extra responsibility is stressful and exhausting.

We may have to move parents to safer housing, become power of attorney, shop for them, find care givers, take them on errands, assist with personal hygiene, monitor medications and health, etc. All the while, some of us may still be working or starting to have our own health problems. Others may still have children at home or are helping with grandchildren. It can get overwhelming.

I have no answers. My father admits he has lived longer than he expected and despite our best efforts does not enjoy his current life. As his mind and body continue to degrade it will only get worse.

And that seems to be the reality for many now. Folks are living longer and it’s long enough to get more “age-related disease, disability, dementia and dysfunction.” (NIH: National Library of Medicine) It’s a sad thing to get towards the end of your life and have it be so filled with discomfort, indignities, and confusion.

All this to say, my brother and I will endeavor to continue to provide the best care we can for our father. Try to keep him comfortable and make sure he has what he needs. Try to bring some joy into his life though I’m not sure he has the capacity for it anymore.

It is indeed a sad season.

Would love to hear about your experiences.