We lived about 100 yards from my parents for about 26 of the 34 years we’ve been married. My mother passed about 15 years ago after surviving ovarian cancer and several years of Parkinson’s. My father took care of her at home until her last monthlong hospital stay. He wouldn’t accept any help at all except the occasional dementia spells when she thought he was a stranger trying to harm her. I’d have to go down to their house to yell at her to quit being stupid telling me the man she’d been married to for 50+ years was a stranger trying to kill her. She’d snap out of it, apologize for being a PITA, I’d apologize for yelling at her, we’d share a hug, and I’d walk back home. Usually a couple times a month in the wee hours of the morning. Good times…
My dad was independent for a few years after. He was always a hard charging, in control, my way or no way guy. The kind of guy that GC’d his own house and named our road after himself since he’s the one that cleared the trees and made the road. His body eventually failed, but his brain worked just fine all the way to the end. Letting him do what he wanted to do and could do for himself, allowing him to retain self determination without being neglectful; sometimes trying to keep that balance I felt kind of like he and I were like those guys balancing on a log in the water… continually dancing to give him the best quality of life he could have while not killing each other.
Started out, we were just neighbors. Two grown men living beside each other. Then he quit cutting trees by himself, because he was a little slow to be able to move if something went wrong. Later, when he couldn’t feel his feet well, he quit ladders. Over the course of years it progressed to me doing his house maintenance, most of the outside maintenance, he’d shoot deer but I’d get them up and dress them, and eventually I’d pick him up and set him in my truck to take him to doctor appointments.
And yet the picture with his contact on my phone was of him sitting on the old N holding me when I was an infant. I used that pic because it reminded me I shouldn’t strangle him or even be mean to him despite him clearly being in some sort of competition for the most irritating person in the planet. (Not just my opinion, my brother agreed. He was 2 hours away so not able to enjoy the day to day with me.)
It isn’t easy. My issue with my father was he wouldn’t tell me or his doctors when he needed help. I’ve known others whose problem was their parent exaggerates, won’t even try to do anything, and insist on being waited on hand and foot. There’s
no one answer. You do the best you can and try to take care of them in a respectful way even if that respect isn’t returned.
I also know that feeling of FINALLY being retired and having family health issues that have me doing more stuff that’s a duty than the seemingly elusive “whatever you want to do”. Maybe someday…
