Summer of Our Discontent

The summer of 2014 was the summer of our discontent. Not that anyone would ever lay claim to that dubious title. It was a curious confluence of elderly needs verses the growing demands from our grand-children. Sharon’s mother had never really adjusted to the death of her spouse and the loneliness of widowhood. Upon our return home this May she began to require constant care and attention.  Then there were two youngsters who relished the presence of grandparents in their lives and only had a few summer months to expand on it. Unfortunately, the Colorado kids couldn’t even get that unless we flew in on the silver bird.

Confronted by circumstances beyond our control, my wife and I were forced to place private needs and wants on hold in order to tend to her mother.  It’s one of those all too familiar family scenarios that usually isn’t talked for fear of sounding selfish or self-absorbed. There were needy people on both sides of the age spectrum; some growing and the other declining.

Of course, guilt and denial often play into the greater scheme of such things. You try to find a balance between serving those who need you and taking care of yourself. But often you do it under the guise of the obedient child because to talk about your own needs refutes your Catholic upbringing…never to think of yourself…only of others. 

It a kind of cult of denial that you might also have needs and wants and desires. For the time being those are put on hold. In this case, it was mainly by my wife, the eldest daughter, who did the heavy lifting by giving so much attention to her mother. There were other siblings to help but my wife, along with her sister, took on the lion’s share of responsibility. My role was that of the supporting spouse doing what I could to help and keeping my mouth shut.

Both kinds of caring; for her mother and the grandkids was the right thing to do. We understood that. Kids grow up too quickly to wait for an ideal time for involvement. There were soccer games, bird-watching, T-ball, baby-sitting, bike-riding, weekend overnights, zoo ventures, etc. It was six short months to fill in for the time absent from their lives. We also needed more time in the mile high city. Thank heavens for ‘face-time.’

And even under the cloak of family obligations, caring for the elderly was still a very difficult thing to do. It’s never convenient, comfortable or more often than not satisfying at the time. It’s simply what must be done for another family member. The alternative to do nothing is too heavy a burden to carry for the rest of one’s life.

So that young girl who at age five started taking on farm chores and helping her mother around the house had now come back home once again to accept the ultimate and final responsibility in that circle of life. It’s what is expected even if it is an ironic reversal of roles. It was a role that suited her well.

The Girl with Seven Suede Jackets

Yet while she was ideally suited to the task, there was always the chance of collateral damage to worry about. What concerned me the most was the stress and mental challenges associated with giving such care on an almost daily basis. The long trips down to Wabasha. The confusion over meds and treatments. The patient’s anger and depression over growing old and feeling badly most of the time. The move from home to assisted living. Selling the homestead and her mother’s rough adjustment to communal living. The growing burden of a mother in denial.

Too often Catholic guilt (feel free to choose your own religion here) plays too prominent a role in this denial of the negative effects on the care-givers. Unfortunately, I have seen several instances where the care-giver died from such stress and strain on their mental and physical being. It’s a high price to pay for caring for another person.

Sharon's mother in her teens.

So they struggle on. The caregiver wanting to do everything she can to help. The mother in denial and yet leaning more and more on those closest to her for solace in her slowly closing window of life. My role was relegated to that of a bit-player, a secondary shadow in the background, doing what I was told to do and supporting the care-giver anyway I could.

It’s a role I can handle quite well.

Except the part about keeping my mouth shut.

Caring for the Hand that Bites You

I mean no disrespect to the infamous ‘Greatest Generation.’ Their accomplishments on the planet are well documented and their place in American history unquestioned. But for all their great exploits there seems to be a certain number of them who have not taken to old age very well. 
 

As the average age for the elderly grows, their care and support has fallen primarily on the shoulders of their boomer children. We’ve become the sandwich generation where on one hand we have grandchildren to hover over while at the same time, our own parents increasingly demand more of our attention. 

Adding to these new responsibilities is often the challenge of dealing with elderly parents who aren’t able or willing to accept the reality of their situation. Somehow they feel cheated out of their life and take their frustrations out on their own adult children. Over the last several years, I’ve run into more than a couple of friends who are facing just such a dilemma in their lives. They’ve been forced to bear the brunt of their parent’s frustration and resentment about losing their independence, moving out of their home and their ability to control the final direction of their lives.

But this ‘angry at life’ phenomena isn’t just reserved for the elderly. Over the years I’ve unfortunately run into more than a fair number of these curmudgeons who somehow feel cheated out of what life has handed them. 

They’re not just in the nursing homes or assisted living facilities. They hang out at the ‘old timers’ coffee shop and the American Legion. They might be a neighbor who doesn’t want kids running across his lawn or complains when the newspaper isn’t on his front steps on time. I have one of those next door to me right now.

Those ‘mad at life’ disgruntled individuals were on my paper route back in 1955 and their descendants are probably on the same street today. I worked for one in the warehouse during the summer of ‘61 and had a foreman like that in a factory during the next summer. 

My sister and I were lucky. Even at 104, my stepfather never lost his appreciation for the simple things in life like fishing, card-playing and dancing with my mother. My mother fell under the spell of ‘why is this happening to me’ near the end of her life but overall, she continued staying busy as all good Germans were taught to do…even near the end.

I can think of one other exception. 

The other exception is the parents of a friend of mine. They’re both in their mid-eighties, have travel extensively and still baby-sit their great-grandchildren. They love playing any kind of board games and are the highlight of any party. 

I wish I knew what it was that propels some parents to embrace their twilight years with gracious acceptance while others hold on to past dreams and illusions and curse the process of ‘getting old.’ They seem to be mad at the world and so inexplicably they lash out at those closest to them; often it’s their children who only want to help them in their twilight years. It forces their care-givers to choose between letting them make their own life decisions or stepping in when they feel their parents can’t make those basic decisions anymore.

Not surprisingly, I have to believe so much of it originates in their head. My simple theory is based on nothing more than a loose analysis of other folks my age dealing with this issue. I’ve concluded that it is, to a great degree, a generational thing. I think the ‘greatest generation’ generally speaking didn’t interact with their children the same way we do with ours. They didn’t talk as candidly to them as we do nor were they able to see their own children as adults but rather they somehow kept them mentally in that ‘you’re my kid and I’m still your parent’ stage. 

Google is replete with many articles dealing with this subject. Some of them are thoughtful and insightful. Others are merely selling products and services. A couple of good ones are: 

Ten Tips for Caring for Elderly Parents – US News

The New Old Age Blog-NY Times.com

Caring for Elderly Parents – Huffington Post

My wife and I now find ourselves part of that sandwich generation. We want to spend as much time as we can with our grandchildren but feel strong obligations to help out our parents. Watching one’s parents lose their independence is one of the most challenging realities we must face as our parents age.

So in the end, until the end, we do what we have to do. We accept the good days and bad ones. We listen to the same stories over and over again. We bear the brunt of their complaining and criticism and we love them as much as we can. That’s what children are supposed to do for their parents. And appreciated or not, it’s what we can take to our own grave. That we cared when we should have and we did the best we could.

You can’t ask any more from an adult child.