Adapting as my parents age

It's been a trying week. With my parents now in their eighties, I've had to face some facts. First, I've had to admit that, while they are still intelligent and articulate adults, my folks' ability to comprehend the complexities of their health care has diminished. They are now more easily confused. Second, I can no longer turn away from the reality that ensuring their optimum health means I must become involved. There has been a change in Dad's health and, after months of delays, we still have no answers. My father deserves better.

I'm big on responsibility. How many times have I told a friend to “step up to the plate?” Now it's my turn and the task is none too easy. Wednesday we started with the paperwork that gives me access to Dad's medical information. The documents are key to gaining a first-hand understanding and clearing away the confusion.

But becoming involved means I'm resetting a boundary. I'm pushing past that line which says “Father (and Mother) knows best.” In place of a monarchy, I'm establishing a triumvirate of sorts, one that is governed by Mom and Dad and children. I say “children” because while I'm taking the lead on this, my sisters and I are in this together. As I take notes on the tests my father undergoes, my siblings are making sure I've got the right forms and are researching each test and diagnosis.

Still, I'm not comfortable with this new level of involvement in my parents' lives. In some ways my actions feel like an invasion. After all, I take my own freedom seriously. Ever since my college years I've maintained a reinforced border between my parents and myself. I'm comfortable with it and I'm not too eager to tread on their side of the line. I'd prefer to keep my gaze averted, focused on my own daily dramas ... except life doesn't work that way. Each life phase seems to demand a different sacrifice of me, removing me from a comfort zone. The senior years, I've found, demand a shift in the interaction between parents and children. And denial could mean the difference between life and death.

Mid-week, as my father and I continued through the documents, we discussed  his wishes regarding life sustaining treatment. I read each scenario from the Advance Care Directive aloud, gave a real-life example and repeated the options. When I sensed his comprehension was slipping we stopped and moved on to something lighter.

Any other day I am known for being impatient. But, on this occasion I chose to transcend the limitation. When my nieces and nephews were born, I found I had patience in abundance, because a child's heart and mind are, to me, a sacred ground. On Wednesday I rediscovered this virtue in my dealings with Dad. In some ways he is now just as vulnerable as my sisters' children; he needs to be protected ... while still being respected. It didn't matter that personal deadlines were looming on the periphery of my mind; Dad needed my understanding. Needed it because he now has a slower pace. This is the reality. My duty was to adapt. I had to abandon the faster rhythms of my brain in order to work with Dad at his level. And so we finished the form with long explanations and longer breaks.

I guess what I'm really discovering as I write is this: my resistance against my parents' aging is truly futile. Time and time again, life calls on me, demanding just one thing: it wants me to adapt. I can have any number of reasons why I shouldn't ... and it doesn't matter; life will win out. I can wage war against the inevitable and come away beaten. Or I can willingly accept the changes and retain the strength needed to carrying us through. Either way, as my parents move through these twilight years, my life will change as well as theirs. Still I sense that by choosing to move in step with these changes I can ease the transition for us all. And, maybe, I come out the other side a better person.

Comments

[Brenda Friedrich]

Bernie and Janet, Thanks for your comments. Knowing I'm not alone in this -- that almost all of us must at some time deal with issues related to our aging parents -- is a help in itself. Both of you picked up on the aspect of what our parents go through during these final years. Becoming more dependent upon adult children, I'd like to think that this is one more opportunity for their personal growth too ... a chance for greater trust and acceptance.

[Janet]

Brenda, I am walking alongside you, taking this very same journey. What is so very difficult for me is understanding that each new responsibility I take on for my dad robs him of a bit of independence. In many ways, I think that's even harder than dealing with a child... a child gains dignity and responsibility, whereas a parent *starts* with those things and loses them piece by piece. It is difficult - no, heart-wrenching - the day you look at your folks and realize that they know how much they need you, and what that means for their treasured independence. It's sad for us - it must be frightening for them. ~ Janet

[Bernie]

You so eloquently express an adaptation that many people will ultimately face. It’s an awkward change that we never seem prepared for. My sister faced it with our parents more than I did; she lived ten minutes away, I was three hours by plane, eighteen by car. Eventually my Dad trusted her decisions and near his end, he wouldn’t make a decision on his own without consulting her. Mom, too, near her end. That must have been an incredible change for them because they never really stopped being parents. Best wishes on your journey. Like you said, you may just come out a better person. We did.