My mom and dad had been married for 59 years when, in 1998, my dad died.
With old-school, typically middle class values, and a trade that my father learned at the age of 16, they succeeded in building a moderately comfortable lifestyle while putting enough aside to make certain that their retirement years would be funded without placing an extra burden on me, their only child. In retrospect this was only partially true. This principle also included effectively locking me out of their lives, and not being party to major decisions that affected them. It also set the pattern that was to continue in later years – my parents were one unit, I and my family were another.
But this is not an story about my parents. It is about my own passage from being a shielded only child, to an adult having to confront the very real issues of the elderly, as experienced with my mom after dad’s passing.
Throughout their marriage, my dad made all of the decisions, my mom carried them out. Errands had to be run, so my dad would send my mom to do them. He was the focal point of their conversation. He, as it turned out, was the focal point of their social relationships. He was the one who provided the perspective when dealing with issues. Imagine the sudden void when he was no longer there to give her direction. Not having any other model to follow, my family approached this new reality from the same perspective. This was but the first in a long series of misjudgments and learning steps that led us to where we are today. I had to confront issues which I had never had to previously ponder.
Sometimes, when one is too close, or too involved, perspective is distorted. In our case, the problem was further compounded by the simple fact that we were literally oceans apart. My mother was living in Israel while we were in Central New Jersey. When we did see her, several times a year, perspective was clouded by our desire to avoid conflict.
These were but some of the issues of my momís behavior that we faced:
We interpreted her paranoia as her fear of being alone. It doesnít help the interpretation process when the accusations included half truths. Progressive loss of memory was attributed to the norm as old age. It doesnít help when the personal physician supports this, and other close family members concur. A lack of personal organization in the home can be attributed to a lack of motivation, rather than the confusion that should have been evident. A noticeable deterioration of the level of personal hygiene and the cleanliness of the surroundings was attributed to the same lack of motivation and energy, and was further forestalled with promises that it will be taken care of. A tendency of not continuing her participation in organizational and communal activities was interpreted as a passing stage. In all instances, my mom belittled the problems, but assured us that she would ìfixî them.
As the telephone tales of momís behavior, as told to us by those close to her increased in number, we were guilty of rationalizing the facts with, perhaps a desire not to have to deal with the issues. However, avoiding the realities does not solve the problems, and as problems go, they only get worse.
It was during one of these visits that it became apparent that my mother could no longer live alone. We suggested that we hire a live-in caregiver. She objected. She assured us that she would take care of herself and her home. We believed her. She forgot her own assurances.
We suggested that she move into an assisted living facility where she can continue to retain her independence while having others deal with daily necessities, while assuring her continued health and well-being. She left the door open to the possibility while constantly anchored in her stated ability to take care of herself without assistance. We did the research, visiting at least a dozen facilities close to where she lived in Israel. On visits, we took her to the best of the places. She agreed to try them out; then she recanted; then she again agreed, then again recanted, and so on. There was no solution that was acceptable to her. This was compounded by the fact that we were trying to solve the problems from a distance.
During a subsequent visit we learned that my mom was so disorganized that basic bills had remained unpaid, sometimes for as many as six months. She could no longer manage her own finances. I arranged for automatic billing and payment from my accounts. We hired a caregiver to visit several times a week to assist in shopping, cleaning and cooking. A greater benefit was providing human company and conversation. This was only a temporary solution, since we werenít present to manage the caregiver.
Yet, through all of this, she continued to both agree to, then immediately recant, the possibility of entering a facility on a trial basis. Then one day, a decision was made based on events that were unforeseen. My mom was spending the Passover holiday period with my son and his family. Within 24 hours, she became disoriented, paranoid, accusative and argumentative, all of which served only to upset her hosts, and by extension via telephone, us. They took her to visit a few facilities close to their home. Again she agreed to a trial visit. Naturally, she forgot her commitment, but wisdom prevailed as my son helped her pack, taking her to the home, while assuring her that it was just for a day or two. Days became weeks and so on.
For the first month there were daily problems. Mom wanted to go home. Overseas phone calls, disruptions at work, emotional trauma, and so on by all concerned were the direct results. We felt guilty for having caused her discomfort. We were upset because we put our personal piece of mind ahead of her happiness. Yet each time we convinced her to stay for just another day.
During this period we met Ronni Greene in Fair Lawn on a social occasion. Ronni told us that she was familiar with what we were going through. Her business involved selling Long Term Care Insurance, bringing her into contact with many families having very similar experiences. It was during our conversations that I was able to accept the situation for what it was.
We learned that my experiences were the norm, and there was nothing personal about it. More important, we learned and understood that in our desire to do the best for my mom we put ourselves into untenable positions, which, by their very existence, only served to compound the damage.
We learned that in order to help my mother survive her reality, we would have to do what is best for us. There would be resistance and tension. The best scenario, would be the one that enables my mother to get the best care, while minimizing as much as possible the discomfort and upheaval that this care would cause to our lives. If we were not in a position of comfort, then how could we expect to provide the comfort that she deserves?
It is now over 6 years and during each conversation, my mother still tells us that she is happy, living in a wonderful room surrounded by wonderful people. And each time she tells us that she arrived there just the day before.
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