Dec 27: Warning: parent (t)issues

Thanks to the three of you. Michael, I miss talking, PLEASE call.

The last few weeks have, as promised, been exceptionally busy. Everything has just been a constant blur of one thing after another. Had two weekends on call, worked an extra Friday, also on call most Thursdays, had my big twice-a-year lecture at Drexel to prepare for and give; all of these things are good for my checking account, but did sap my energy. I ended up selling enough jewelry at work to cover my costs, both craft fairs were a bust. Also had the blood drive in there as well, so the last four weekends were very booked after very busy weeks.

I've been pushing and pushing, getting just enough sleep but not as much as I should have. With so much to do I couldn't even settle down. I sleep best after a good meditation, but it's the first thing that gets cut when I'm too busy. So now will be the recuperation phase where I withdraw somewhat to recover. The last two nights I've slept 10 hours, very unusual for me.

Just got back from dropping Mom back at her apartment in Doylestown at the retirement center. I brought her over Saturday, so we had all Christmas and yesterday, plus the greater part of today together. We didn't do much: stayed in Christmas Day and watched a movie after sleeping in, then ate a nice dinner and saw another movie after doing some errands yesterday. The group of people at my work must be the most stable folks with good family relationships in a three-state area, because they will all be talking about how many relatives they saw, where they went, happy family dinners. It makes my lack of family attachments all the more obvious. So, while neither Mom nor I have any religious feelings about Christmas we both like doing something, if only to have a response to 'So what did you do for the holiday?'

So it is this visit that has prompted me to share my innermost feelings.

My mother just turned 82, although her face looks younger. She says she doesn't feel a day over 60 as long as she's sitting. But that feeling is over as soon as she starts to move. The knee replaced was better for a while, but then she fell on it and it hasn't been right since, although the orthopedic surgeon says there isn't anything wrong. She admits that she has felt herself really going downhill in the last couple of months. Her hips are bothering her more, her other knee is more painful, and her hand arthritis has gotten markedly worse, the fingers of both hands terribly crooked and swollen. She has always had bladder issues with needing to pee frequently, but it's even worse now and affects her quality of life, and sleep, more than you can imagine. Watching her get up or move in any way is hard to watch: painful for her and scary for me imagining how little it would take for her to fall. She has problems with so many things: opening jars, getting into cars, fine motor tasks, putting socks on.

Her mind, once so sharp, is the hardest to see diminishing. What's surprising is that she still functions at a very high level at Heritage Towers, co-ordinating an incredibly successful hospitality team, organizing 3 dinners with each new resident with people who have been there for a while so they have met people who can give them advice and support as they start their lives there. She interviews almost all the new residents, then writes up short biographies on them for the resident's newsletter. It's hard for me to understand this aspect of her as with me she's very repetitive, telling the same stories about other residents over and over, forgetting things I've told her, forgetting lots of things. A couple weeks ago she pointed to my right hand and said 'What's the story on those rings?' This was very upsetting because one was her mother's wedding ring that I've worn for over 20 years and the other was her Aunt Laura's wedding set (yes, who I am named after) that Mom gave me several years ago. But she still keeps up on current events, has a good handle on politics, reads and is an interesting conversationalist.

My mother would never win any 'mother of the year' awards. She has made some huge, mind-bogglingly horrible mistakes with me, really terrible at pivotal times in my life. Her reaction during the time I was sick was typical, she just ignored it or put on rose-colored glasses and let me deal with everything. (Even for the third surgery, when I was at my worst and coping with the move and selling my house, she still expected me to make all her flight & travel arrangements, hotel arrangements, transportation to and from the airport....) And yet I recognize that she loves me more than she loves anyone, and that no one else will ever love me that much again. There is no one else I can discuss in excruciating detail financial issues, work up and downs, cat stories or anything else which is entirely about me, who will listen with rapt attention. Being an only child and remaining single doesn't give me anyone else who has that level of interest for this many decades.

My father and I were estranged for years before his death, so I didn't have to deal with watching his decline. Coping with our aging parents, watching them deteriorate, is part of the curse of the middle-aged. Volumes upon volumes have been written, a scan of magazine covers (not involved in entertainment) will often have articles as well. This is something almost all of us experience. I know that my reactions are very typical, I've heard all the stories over the years, watched other people go through it, have been cognizant that this was in my future. And yet knowing that, knowing that this is one of the commonalities all humans in all cultures share, doesn't make it any easier to watch and cope with myself.

While my view could be accused of being skewed, I do believe that there is a greater difficulty in daughters losing their mothers. For the last couple years I've done an unscientific survey which has told me that while men are affected by the loss of their parents, especially their mothers, and women do mourn their fathers, the reactions from women regarding their mothers was much more emotional. Several women much older than me who lost their mothers 20, even 30, years before still miss them, still have things that flash through their minds that they think 'Oh, I've got to call/ask Mom about that....' It amazes, and depresses me, that this loss is still so acute decades after their mother's death, that it never seems to completely resolve. While fathers were recalled and times together fondly remembered, the loss of the mother was clearly much more traumatic and continues to the women I spoke with.

There is also the inevitable selfish thought process: who will take care of me when I begin to lose my faculties? What will the year or so before my death be like? Who will look after me, keep me from making monetary mistakes? Who will come and get me to take me to their home for holidays? Who will bring me flowers on my birthday? In my list of 'pros' for my dying, part of how I coped with my impending death, it was a huge relief that I wouldn't have to worry about these issues, wouldn't have to deal with getting older and losing my faculties or not having enough money to support myself. There would have been a major benefit to exiting this world while my helpful deeds and contributions were still fresh, unsullied by memories of a long decline. It is typical that the pending, or actual loss, of our parents brings our own mortality front-and-center. Because after our parents die, we become the older generation.

This isn't meant to be asking for advice, I know what to do. Resolve any issues from the past, appreciate each conversation or visit with Mom knowing that they are numbered, spend as much time as possible with her. It occurred to me after getting home that I had no idea when the last picture of Mom was taken, and more importantly the last picture of the two of us together. (No, I didn't want any group shots of me in the hospital!) It would also be good to make a recording of her talking about happy times in her life. Now that the foot is improving my plan is to be over more, help her cope with the massive excess of stuff in her apartment that makes it difficult to negotiate, especially if her ability to move around continues to deteriorate. I've been gently nagging about this for eight years, now it has become more important.

Ironically, my broken foot has served to make my mother's quality of life better, because it lead to her taking Tabitha. She has mentioned frequently how much she loves having her, how nice it is to come back to the apartment and have Tabitha waiting for her. Tabitha is clearly happier being an only cat, there hasn't been one instance of peeing since she's been there. And it was only possible because it was an emergency situation: with Tabitha's urinary issues and my inability to cope once the foot was broken. the only thing that kept her from being put to sleep was my mother pleading with the folks at HT to allow her to take Tabitha. (For some strange reason they allow you to enter with a pet, but not replace the cat/dog once they die. Mom's cat died several years ago, so she didn't think she'd ever be able to have another.) As much as I miss Tabitha after 14 years together, it is so wonderful that she and Mom are so good for each other, each making the other happy and a daily source of affection.

For women, life is three cycles: maiden, mother and crone. For everything there is birth, life and then death: it is the cycle of life. If things go the way they are 'supposed' to, children watch their parents age and then die. So it has been from time immemorial, an inevitable part of the human experience. I am so grateful to my subconscious, or the Spirits, who have made me realize the preciousness of this time with my mother, to appreciate her, to remember our conversations even more in case she does lose her intellect, as well as for after she has died. But that doesn't change the fact that it's taken over 20 tissues (sometimes two at once) to get this into written form. Recognition of the impending doesn't make it any easier to deal with, just hopefully with less regrets.

Thanks for letting me vent. And if she's still on this earth, go call your mother. Laurie