Mom and Dad - The Missing Manual
My parents were young when I was born, only 17, but despite the relatively small time gap, we are from distinctly different generations. They've been divorced since the 70s, so their needs and circumstances, while similar, are still unique. Last year, my dad and his wife moved to an assisted living facility about a 20-minute drive away. It takes about three hours to get to my mom's. That's doable, but not as easy.
For most of my life, each has been independent. They are both part of the generation that almost understands cell phones, but not quite. My career was in IT, so I have long been their go-to for tech support and purchase advice. Other than that, they never needed much help. Until they did. In both cases, the transition happened suddenly.
Last year, my dad fell late one night, breaking his shoulder and hitting his head - hard. My stepmother has advanced Alzheimer's. She was asleep, but heard him calling for her. Luckily, Dad was able to coach her through retrieving his Life Alert device to summon help. When the paramedics arrived, they made note of a half-empty bottle of bourbon sitting on the counter.
He's never recovered from that night. The damage to his shoulder is irreparable. The concussion and his relationship with alcohol have impaired his short-term memory and decision-making skills.
My mother, an independent widow, has been remarkably fit for years. Since turning 70, she's walked across England and Spain - and I mean all the way across. She lives by herself on an 11-acre tract of land she's long maintained without outside help. Then, suddenly this spring, a hidden back injury surfaced and nearly incapacitated her overnight. She went through weeks of intense pain, lost the ability to drive, and couldn't stand long enough to prepare a meal. Her situation has improved somewhat, but some of the physical impairments might be permanent. Mentally, she is sharp as ever, highly opinionated with some endearing quirks, but she's all there and then some.
I wasn't prepared for either parent's transition. Whenever I've known someone who was providing aid for their mom or dad, my thought pattern was just "That's tough." I never really considered getting mentally ready to step up. The thing is, the universe doesn't care if you are ready or not. When the time comes, unless you are a terrible human, you just start doing what it takes.
Sure, there are books and websites that purport to help you get ready for your new responsibilities, but they aren't clairvoyant, so they don't know what's going to be the event that flips the switch from independence to "needs help." You won't know either.
In my case, the energy it takes to do what needs to be done is disconnected from my feelings. My relationship with each of my parents is and has been very different.
I am much closer to my mom. She's been my supportive parent forever, a wonderful grandmother and great-grandmother, generous with her time and energy. She's smart and interesting and genuine.
My dad is difficult. He's also smart, but he's been absent from my life in most meaningful ways. He leans towards being judgmental, and his one overriding filter for examining everything in the world is how it affects him. He's not interested if it doesn't.
Again, the universe doesn't care. Their needs are unrelated to their degree of likability. They need what they need from you, and the truth from where I'm standing is simple. You do what needs to be done and you use whatever you have to for motivation. My mental gymnastics work like this:
- I would move heaven and earth for my mom
- If I don't help my dad, someone else I love (my siblings, or my aunt and uncles) will have to
- My grandparents would want me to do this
- One day, I'm going to need this same help, and I need the karma points
I realize that this instruction manual is nothing of the sort, but it's my real, lived experience. There's no manual. There's just the drive to Dad's, and the drive to Mom's, and the fact that I make both of them.
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