THE HIGHEST OF HONORS
Most of the people with whom Ken and I have shared our adult lives made the choice, following marriage, to have children — lots of them. The trend, which was very popular after World War II and the Korean Conflict was to have large families. As part of that trend, we are the parents of five offspring: two girls and three boys — stragglers of the “Baby Boomer Generation.” Our years of rearing children were the best years of our lives, nothing out of the ordinary: normal, I would say. We did PTA, Dads’ Club, Little League, Scouts — boy and girl — church with all of its youth programs and activities, enjoyed their friends: good and tolerated the bad; we endured sick days, happy days, school days, vacation days, holidays and rebel days. We angst through the 60s and worried about drugs, hippies and all the ramifications that went with young people coming of age during such a tramatic period of history and being faced with choices where their lives could have been damaged, ruined or even claimed by death, but they survived and so did we.
The growing years went by in a blur as if we had pushed the fast-forward button of a VCR. Some of our brood went to college, others did not, but in any event, they all did the same — and the normal thing — as young adults they picked up their lives and went their chosen way. Normal — and happy: that’s what we wanted, yet as each one left the nest they left an empty spot in our hearts. For most of the years which followed, they have lived close by with their growing families, and we consider that a blessing. While we are no longer the strong beacon of influence we hope to have been, we treasure the grown-up relationship we have with all of them.
Parenting, however, is still such a constant, and while Ken and I had rediscovered “us” and had moved on into our retirement years, we wanted that safety net to remain for these grown children: the knowledge that we were and are still “there” for them — in every way. It isn’t because they really “needed” us, it’s their knowing that counts. I’ve often compared us, “mom and dad,” (other moms and dads as well) to the stove and refrigerator — even the washer and dryer — the house, the car — home; “there,” we’re just “there.” We are part of that security, that solidarity which they have known “always,” and will, hopefully, remember in a good and loving and “normal” way.
So what do we, as parents, expect in return? Actually nothing, but cards and perhaps a few flowers, or some other small token of love on birthdays, Mothers’ and Fathers’ Day; love and respect and occasional phone calls — and visits. But accolades? I don’t think so, believing myself and Ken to be ordinary people. Yet, to my surprise my daughter, Debbie, nominated me for “Caregiver of The Year” through a website out of Chicago: http://www.caregiving.com with Diane Brown as the host of the site, and her own internet/radio program. I am one of the five recipients to receive the award and I am honored and humbled. When I read Debbie’s letter of nomination, and her description of what she has observed over the years, I cried. Such a high compliment to receive: for her to see me not only as her mother, but as a wife, a person — an individual in my own right — someone who has had a life and has, posssibly, made some kind of contribution to mankind and the world in which we all live, and for her to want me honored is an honor in itself. The following is her letter of nomination:
“I am writing about my father’s caregiver, my mother. Given all the other service-oriented activities she has been part of: PTA, Scouts, Little League, and church, this would not be out of the ordinary, but my father is the fourth family member with Alzheimer’s that she has given or directly supervised their in-home care.
“Her first experience with the disease came with my father’s parents. I cannot remember when they were stricken, or what their ages were. I remember their 50th wedding anniversary; my grandmother was 68, and my grandfather 12 years older. They both seemed fine at the event, but shortly after the celebration, my mother began to make more and more visits to their home. They lived about 40 miles away and my mother made several trips a month to take them to the doctor, for haircuts, or to make sure they had food in their cupboard and refrigerator. My father’s sister lived a few blocks away from them, but because she was a single mother and worked full-time, she had little time left to spare.
“My mother was truly the sandwich generation, as I had three younger brother’s still living at home. I know that she was devoted to home and child care, but she was also realizing some success as a freelance writer. However, by unspoken agreement between my father, his sister and herself it was a given, because she didn’t “work,” the responsibility of caring for my father’s aging parents would belong to her. Even though the current social climate touted women’s rights, liberation and the importance of career, my mother’s dreams of being a writer were squeezed between appointments, errands and all the other aspects of her busy life and giving nature. She had no time to think about whether she was liberated.
“With the death of my paternal grandparents, the needs of her own parents soon crept in and once again began to take over her life. When her own mother developed the same symptoms that her in-laws had shown, she moved them from their country home, which was two hours away, to another home just a mile from her own. Her older sisters lived two states away, and the burden of care for their mother fell on mom’s shoulders. Once again her time was spent in the busyness, stress and exhaustion of caring for an Alzheimer’s patient. As her mother’s condition worsened, they tried a care facility. Its effects were devastating not only to her mother, but also to her father who could not handle the toll the confusion and foreign surroundings brought on his wife which only added to his own despair. Luckily my mother found a dear friend who took over much of the burden of caring for the older couple the last few years of their lives. Despite the help, mom was very much involved in their care. She was continually at their home doing what she could and again, the sole driver for appointments and outings, which continued until the elderly couple passed.
“Following a few years respite, the ugly signs of Alzheimer’s appeared in our family once again, this time afflicting my father. After her experience with her mother and in-laws, one might think she would be an expert, but not so. Everyone is different and seeing your parents change into people you no longer knew, cannot be the same as having your beloved spouse of almost 60 years, not only not recognize you, but demand that you leave your own home.
“My mother has risen to this challenge with fortitude, determination and a sense of humor. She has become somewhat of an expert on the holistic treatment of this disease, and in a sense, she has won. Whether it is the day-to-day battle or the full war, only time will tell. After six years my father continues to live at home. Each day he takes a handful of pills and vitamins that may have allowed him to retain enough of his personality to care for his physical needs, and for the most part functions as a young boy in their home, with small moments of time as my father. The war will be over when he is taken to his Heavenly home. Hopefully that will happen sometime in his sleep and then my mother will be victorious, as she has finished this last act of marital service and love. I cannot imagine the emotional pain this has wrought on her, and the torture she has felt as she has lost her soul mate, bit by bit. Her perseverance and optimism are amazing. Her example reminds me that we are never given more than we can handle. And through this all, she has developed her talents and her career. The disease and her life have given her a story which she shares in a blog. Eventually there will be a book — an example of courage and service for other caregivers and her legacy of service and love to her family.”
I have read your story and a couple of your blogs. What a tribute your daughter gives you! I too am caring for a husband who has a serious neurological disease. My husband’s disease affects his cerebellum and is called multiple systems atrophy type c. In three and a half years he had gone from still working to a wheelchair. I understand some of your pain of slowly loosing the person your husband once was.
Sharon
Sharon,
Thank you for reading and sharing, and yes, I am still feeling awed by my daughters thoughts.
I visit once in a while and read all your latest posts. Today I laughed, had a good giggle and tears just streamed down my face when I read the beautiful words from your daughter.
That book of yours must really see the light soon as it will give so many caregivers around the world so much insight.
I salute you!
So nice to hear from you again, and yes, to have your children see you as a real person is truly a highlight of life. Writing has been my life saver in this awfulness of Alzheimer’s, and if it helps others I couldn’t be more pleased. Thank you for reading and for your compliment.