An Excellent Reminder About Love
I love my mom, and I’m thankful for the group therapy that makes parenting a parent less difficult.
February 2025 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
Love comes to mind when I hear the word February. A romantic dinner with my husband at George’s Bistro and then fancy chocolates from Coco Dolce at home. Flowers would be nice, but we have cats. That feline curiosity problem can end in a broken vase, water everywhere, and eventually petal pieces mingled inside cat puke. I don’t love that.
Another thing I don’t love, no matter what month it is, is going to the dentist. Regular life happens in February, too. Mom doesn’t love a trip to the dentist either. I knew she must be in a significant amount of pain, or she would never have mentioned it to me. As we sink deeper into the swapping of roles phase of life, I become more mother-like and Mom becomes more child-like.
The day of her dentist appointment, I tell her I’m a little early because Bubba, the orange tabby, got me up ahead of schedule. Harmless little lies are necessary sometimes. The truth is that she dawdles more when we’re going somewhere she doesn’t want to go. I do my respectful best to be on time for appointments, so I need to give her plenty of time to dilly dally. She uses every bit of it, too.
On the way to the dentist, Mom confides that she’s extremely nervous. “I’m afraid I have that gum disease. The one where the only thing they can do is remove all your teeth and you have to get dentures.”
I give her a quick glance to see if she’s serious. She is. “Do you mean gingivitis?”
“Yes, that’s what I’m talking about.”
“Have your gums been bleeding?”
“No, but they seem darker to me than they used to be.”
“Well, it could be the start of gingivitis. Usually there’s bleeding with gum disease. I’d think there would be a lot of bleeding if it were bad enough to have all your teeth removed. I really don’t think you need to worry about that.”
This is what she does now. She bypasses logic and goes straight to the worst possible, most negative scenario she can imagine.
Navigating the New Year with a Plan
Mom and I tied a ribbon around the last twelve months of parent child role reversal and began focusing on the potential joy and happiness of a new year.
January 2025 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
It was that time of year again. Mom and I tied a ribbon around the last twelve months of parent child role reversal and began focusing on the potential joy and happiness of a new year. Our relationship had evolved as Mom continued to live as independently as she could, and I kept on providing the assistance she needed to make that happen for both of us.
The year had been full of doctor appointments, medical procedures, big decisions, and subtle adjustments. She didn’t bounce back from illnesses and surgery like she used to, but a home health nurse helped a lot during her recovery periods. A few months ago, her nurse gave us a pamphlet about a group of nurse practitioners who had started a medical house call business. It was set up like a doctor’s office that comes to you. Since Mom gave up driving, I thought this could be a valuable healthcare tool for us.
I suspected Mom had a UTI again and thought this would be a reasonable way to test the waters on the house call idea. I set up an appointment for that evening. A nurse practitioner showed up on time, gave Mom a thorough exam, agreed it was a UTI, and prescribed antibiotics. She collected a urine sample and drew blood for laboratory confirmation of her diagnosis. I picked up the medicine the next day and Mom headed down the road to recovery once again.
The idea of having medical professionals come to Mom’s home eased my mind a great deal. I planned to go on vacation later in the year. Twelve days would be a long time for Mom to be minus a chauffeur. Not that I was the only one who could drive her to a doctor’s appointment. She had several neighbors who would be happy to help her get wherever she needed to go … if she asked them. That was the problem. She hated asking for help.
Our Little Christmas Miracle
Before I tell you about my little Christmas miracle, let me catch you up to speed on how 2024 has been going for Mom and I.
December 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
Before I tell you about my little Christmas miracle, let me catch you up to speed on how 2024 has been going for Mom and I. Earlier this year, Mom had a scary incident with her foot slipping off the brake pedal when she was driving into her garage. She stopped the car before hitting anything, but decided it was time to give up driving. We sold the car, got her a mobility scooter, signed her up for online grocery shopping, and crossed our fingers she would adapt well to her new life.
Being stuck at home was harder than Mom anticipated, and she began having more bouts of depression. I suggested talking to a therapist to which she furrowed her brow. Mom’s family doctor suggested switching to a different antidepressant drug called duloxetine. Mom tended to be afraid of things she didn’t understand, like psychiatry, and jumped on the familiarity of the medicine approach. I wanted to strangle the doctor but thought better of it. This was not a hill to die on ... yet.
After about four weeks on duloxetine, the bouts of negativity, crying, and wanting to die continued. On top of that, Mom became more tired, and her eating habits deteriorated more than before. I went to her home one Saturday afternoon to drop off some items I had picked up at Walmart for her and found her asleep. When I woke her, she was disoriented and had a tough time thinking and verbalizing. She sat on the bed for a few minutes, gradually becoming more coherent.
While Mom walked from the bedroom to the dining room, she told me to transfer money to my account to pay for the things I had purchased. That sounded like the mom I was used to hearing so I went ahead to the dining room. I was digging in my purse for the receipt and told her that she needn’t worry about the money. She didn’t respond, which was weird because she usually talks a lot. I glanced in her direction thinking she hadn’t heard me, and my eyes stopped at her legs. She looked like she was walking in place next to the table.
I raised my eyes to ask her if she was dancing and I saw her face. Her catatonic stare looked straight ahead. One hand gripped the back of the chair and the other held onto the walker. She started slowly sinking to the floor as if she were sitting down more so than falling. I couldn’t get around the table in time to guide her to the chair. She went down so gently the fall detection on her personal medical alert monitor didn’t even kick in. Her eyes were wide open, but she was unaware of anything for a few seconds.
Endearing Love and Gratitude
Some Novembers make it easy to be thankful while others work your last nerve. This year November is the latter for me and Mom.
November 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
Some Novembers make it easy to be thankful while others work your last nerve. This year November is the latter for me and Mom. The awkwardness and struggles of parent child role reversal are hard enough without tossing in cognitive decline. That’s where Mom and I are now. Her gradual loss of physical and mental abilities has sped up. She’s eighty-five so I suppose I should have known this was coming.
You can’t know for sure though because it varies from person to person. Mom’s best friend is ninety and her cognitive skills are hanging in there. She and Mom live in a senior independent living apartment complex and I’m eternally grateful that they have each other. I’m also thankful that Mom lives about ten minutes from my house which will help us both remain independent for a while, but I’m beginning to wonder how much longer.
Mom had a surgical procedure to replace her pacemaker battery, and she isn’t bouncing back from it as well as I would like. The incision looks good to my untrained eye. Well, it looks as good as a wound can look and the nurses who’ve seen it say it looks normal. Her behavior worries me more than the wound. She’s just out of it, spacy and disoriented, especially when she first wakes up. At least I don’t have to worry about her hopping in the car while she’s so foggy headed.
I’m thankful she decided to give up driving earlier this year, but it seems like that may have been a catalyst for depression and faster mental decline. Or it could be coincidental timing. I don’t know because I’m not a doctor and I haven’t dealt with this type of situation before. All I really know is what I see and what her friends tell me. She sleeps a lot more than she used to, so her eating schedule is almost nonexistent these days. I don’t think that helps. Nutrition is fuel for the body, and the mind is part of the body. Right?
It's getting harder for both of us to stay positive and we each feel helpless for a different reason. Mom feels helpless because she doesn’t have the physical strength and agility to do all the things she used to be able to do on her own like cleaning the house and taking out the trash. She has family and friends who will help her with chores and drive her wherever she needs to go, but she doesn’t like asking any of us for help. I feel helpless because I haven’t figured out a way to make her golden years more enjoyable.
Navigating Depression with Mindfulness
The football announcers speculated on how the referees were going to rule on the latest red flag challenge when my phone rang. Mom’s friend Ida came up on the caller ID.
October 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
I love everything about fall. Cooler temperatures, autumn colors, soup weather, and football Sundays. I felt relaxed sitting in the corner of my sofa sectional with my husband lounging nearby and our calico cat stretched out in between us. The football announcers speculated on how the referees were going to rule on the latest red flag challenge when my phone rang. Mom’s friend Ida came up on the caller ID and I went from relaxed to tense in about one second. Ida’s never called me before. This couldn’t be good.
I answered and Ida said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’m worried about your mom. She’s talking about crying herself to sleep at night. The other day when some of us were gathered on her porch, she told us she isn’t happy.”
“She’s told me that, too.” I confess to Ida.
“I go over and see her almost every day, but I’m not there at night. It’s gotten worse since she stopped driving and sold her car. She said you’re taking her to a doctor’s appointment tomorrow. Could you talk to her doctor about her depression? I don’t mean to be a busy body, but there are things they can do, medication she could take.”
“She’s taking an antidepressant already, but maybe we need to change the dosage or try a different medicine. You’re not a busy body. I appreciate you looking out for her and letting me know when you see a problem.” Parent child role reversal was easier with help from a friend.
The next day, before Mom and I drove to her doctor’s appointment, I talked to her about Ida’s phone call. She was expecting the conversation. “We can talk to your doctor about changing your medicine, but I wanted to ask you about a different approach. You’re a bit of a fall risk and medicines often have the side effect of drowsiness, so what about a non-medicine treatment? What do you think about the idea of talking to a psychiatrist?”
Mom’s New Transportation Adventure
Life resets many times over the decades, and this was a big reset for Mom and me.
September 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
My mom decided to give up driving and sell her car after she had a scary incident when her foot slipped off the brake and onto the gas pedal. Neuropathy had been numbing her feet for several years now. She didn’t hit anything or anyone, but she worried she might hurt someone next time. How awesome was she for making that decision for the safety of others? Just when I thought the parent child role reversal situation meant I wouldn’t be looking to her as a role model anymore and BAM … she whipped out another inspiring lesson on doing the right thing. Moms are cool like that.
Selling her car was easy from a technical standpoint. Dropping a couple of Facebook posts about it was useless but handing out flyers and talking to people face-to-face worked like a charm. The car sold for exactly what we wanted to get out of it and the buyer got a great car at a fair price. The best transactions were always mutually beneficial.
Emotionally speaking, selling the car was a lot harder for Mom. Having conversations about how this decision would impact her daily life and living that impacted life were two entirely different things. Being out of milk and bread wasn’t as simple as driving a couple of blocks to the grocery store anymore. Even getting the mail was too far to walk if it was raining or the temperature soared into the 100s. She took care of herself for so long; relying on others was hard.
Life resets many times over the decades, and this was a big reset for Mom and me.
I liked to think things through and plan with potential consequences in mind. I started making a mental list of all that we needed to do to adjust to Mom’s lack of transportation. We would need to clean out the car, advertise it for sale, and negotiate a fair deal. She would have to stop the insurance and return the tag for a refund. What about buying a mobility scooter and ordering groceries online? What contingencies would we need for weather issues?
As soon as the list became overwhelming, I had to take myself out of planner mode and focus on one or two things at a time.
The Nutritional Journey with Mom
Mom doesn’t cook much anymore. Cooking skills are one of those use-it-or-lose-it things. She doesn’t remember many recipes or cooking techniques.
August 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
When I was a kid, back in the late 1960s and early 1970s, Mom made sure we had three square meals a day. Nothing fancy. We didn’t’ have money to spend on exotic delicacies or eating out. There wasn’t an overabundance of anything, including necessities. If you would have told me people would one day be taking pictures of their dinner and sharing the photos with friends and family, I would have said you were crazy. Here we are though, walking around with computers sitting in the palm of our hand. Notification dings let us know when there might be something interesting to see, like someone’s dinner plate.
Mom maintained a regimented meal routine for our family, back in the day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were at certain times and if you missed it, there was no reheating a plate of food in the microwave. Microwave ovens didn’t hit the kitchen scene until I was a teenager. Being on time was worth the effort. Mom was an awesome cook. She learned that from her mom, and I learned to cook from her and Grandma.
Mom doesn’t cook much anymore. Cooking skills are one of those use-it-or-lose-it things. She doesn’t remember many recipes or cooking techniques. Her freezer holds a lot of frozen dinners and soup cans line the cupboard shelf. I’m a lot like Mom in many ways, including cooking habits like the ones from when we were both younger. I wonder if I’ll lose the desire to cook for myself when I’m 80 years old. Probably. For now, I’m still regimented and enjoy experimenting with recipes.
After my usual lunchtime one day in mid-July, I went to visit Mom. She hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so I told her to go ahead and fix herself something. She rattled off a few different things she could have but couldn’t seem to land on anything. She often tells me nothing tastes good anymore or that she just isn’t hungry. She’s lost some weight. Not enough that she needs to buy new clothes, but that day is coming.
“There’s a chocolate pudding cup in the fridge. I suppose I could have that.” She said more to herself than me.
“That’s not really lunch so much as dessert, don’t you think?” I gently offered.
“Oh, I don’t know. Is it?” She shot a sheepish, sideways look in my direction.
The Long-Awaited Inevitable Planning
Selling the car would change life for her and me. Not something to jump into without careful consideration of all the implications.
July 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
Mom returned home from grocery shopping and eased her car into the one car garage like usual. About halfway in, her foot slipped from the brake to the gas pedal. She stopped the car before she ran into her apartment, but it was close. Too close. She turned the car off and trembled in the front seat for a while before taking her groceries inside. She waited a couple of days to tell me what had happened.
For the last couple of years, she’d been saying she needed to stop driving and sell the car. Normally she had this knee jerk reaction when she was frustrated and angry with something other than the car. She may have forgotten something important or couldn’t get a jar open or her back was hurting more than usual or putting on shoes made her out of breath. Annoying reminders of tasks that used to be easy to do.
I would respond with, “Let’s not do anything hasty.” I knew she’d change her mind as soon as she calmed down from whatever was bothering her. Mom had a habit of going straight to the nuclear hammer solution instead of weighing options when she got frustrated with herself and her life. Prior to the garage incident, she hadn’t had any close calls with driving that I knew about anyway.
I have been a firm believer in both of us remaining as independent as possible for as long as possible. Selling the car would change life for her and me. Not something to jump into without careful consideration of all the implications. For a while now, I have been making a mental checklist of how to make the transition as smooth as possible for both of us. Almost running her car into her apartment, meant it was time to start the ball rolling with that checklist.
Using Memories of Dad to Energize Positivity
Mom’s vow of “in sickness and health” was to Dad not me, but we do the best we can as a mother-daughter team.
June 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
Mom’s vow of “in sickness and health” was to Dad not me, but we do the best we can as a mother-daughter team. Dad passed away in 2017. Mom has adjusted well to the loss. She’s practical like that. She misses him the most when she doesn’t feel well. It’s hard for her to maintain a good attitude when her back hurts and low blood pressure makes her tired. It’s hard for me to help her when she wants to give up.
I know I won’t completely understand where she’s coming from until I arrive at the same location twenty years from now. I am trying hard to be patient and respectful. That’s tough to do when I’m prioritizing her well-being over my own life. I need to do laundry, wash dishes, pick up groceries for dinner, vacuum up a week’s worth of cat hair, draft articles, work on my book, etc. Instead, I’m waking her up at 11 a.m. and trying to convince her to eat, take her medicine, and get dressed.
She just wants to sleep and she’s crying over every little thing. If she drops something on the floor, she cries. If she can’t think of a word, she cries. If she can’t get the lid off the deodorant, she cries. I could go on. I’ve noticed she seems more confused than usual, too. I asked her if she needed to go to the doctor. Of course, that makes her cry, and now she’s angry, too. I suspect she may have a urinary tract infection again. Her kidney doctor told us confusion is often a symptom of UTI in elderly women.
To top it off, her hearing has gotten worse. We went to an audiologist a couple of weeks ago and now she has hearing aids. She hates wearing them. I love that I can talk to her again. This is what we do. She focuses on the negative and I try to swing her back around to the positive. I’m not sure which one of us is winning right now, but I don’t think it’s me.
We Began as Mother and Daughter and Became Best Friends
It doesn’t matter how we connect as long as we keep coming together. That’s the important takeaway here.
May 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
I don’t celebrate Mother’s Day for me. I’m not a mom unless you count being a pet parent to our two cats. I think it counts, but the cats are oblivious to the idea. Mother’s Day in our house is a celebration of my mom, not me. We used to go out to a restaurant of her choosing, or I would at least run some ideas by her before making a reservation. We don’t do that anymore.
Mom’s good days and bad days are unpredictable. Congestive heart failure wears her out fast these days. Foot pain and back problems don’t help either. If she’s having a good day, we’ll go to a restaurant. Otherwise, I'll have her join us for lunch at my house. She’s comfortable with a smaller group of people who she knows well. I’ll fix something special that she really loves, like a quiche or French Toast Bake with a side of fresh mixed fruit. Something decadent for dessert must be on the menu, too. Mom loves her sweets. I inherited this trait from her.
Mother’s Day brings back a lot of memories for me. I think about all the times Mom fixed my scraped knees, chaperoned school field trips, and advised me to always be able to take care of myself. The internet didn’t come around until I was in my thirties, so Mom was my go-to person for cooking questions, dating woes, and marital advice. She helped me paint my house once, too. She could do anything she set her mind to do.
Things are different now. It’s my turn to help her. She doesn’t like it that she can’t do things for me like she used to. She tells me I work too hard when I come to see her. It doesn’t feel like demanding work to bring her groceries, unload her dishwasher, and help her pay monthly bills. Going to doctor appointments and running errands aren’t difficult tasks. This is how the circle of life works. She tells me she will never be able to repay me for all I do for her, but I think it’s the other way around. I mean, her side of the ledger has an entry for giving birth to me. That’s a pretty big deal. We have always been great as mother and daughter, but what I really love is how we’ve grown into best friends.
The Magical and Nurturing Love of Pets
Should your aging parent have a pet or not? That’s a tricky question to talk about.
April 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
Pets are tricky. On the one hand, pets are wonderful companions for the elderly. On the other hand, pets can be expensive, require lots of work, and can outlive their owners. Too many times, pets are surrendered to shelters when their elderly owners pass away or must go to a nursing home. If your responsibilities include parenting your parent, you may want to be involved in the decision to have or not to have a pet. This type of conversation is tricky, too.
Mom loved Missy, a small terrier-mix dog. Dad loved Missy even more than Mom. He was crazy attached to Missy, taking her everywhere he went. After Dad died in 2017, Missy connected Mom to Dad, and they comforted each other in lonely times. Missy gave Mom a reason to get up in the mornings. Mom’s gray and black striped tabby cat, Tabbey, was around too, but she was a more distant member of the family. Tabbey wasn’t the friendliest cat. She liked Mom and Dad, but that was it.
Unfortunately, Mom and I had to put Missy to rest in 2021. Saying goodbye to a beloved pet is never easy. A few weeks after Missy’s passing, I’m settling the lunch tab at Laurie’s Kitchen and out of the blue Mom says, “One of the hardest things is walking in the door after I’ve gone somewhere. How long did it take for you to get over losing your cats?” Her voice pleads with me for an end to the pain.
“I’m afraid it’s going to be like that for a while. I still see my cats walking across the kitchen and sleeping on the couch. For a long time, I swear I could feel my orange boy curled up against my arm at night. They are such a big part of our lives. I promise the day will come when you remember Missy and smile instead of cry.” I know the emptiness created by the loss of furry loved ones.
“I hope so.”
Mom & I Versus Whatever Happens
I plan for our future but roll with today. I pick up the slack for her a little at a time and do my best to let her give me permission to do so.
March 2024 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
I keep a small journal tucked in the compartment of my driver’s side car door. The navy cover measures about 5”x7” and opens to business card slots on the left side and a memo pad with a pen on the right. The business cards filling the slots tell the story of Mom’s cardiovascular history and other ailments. Dated 10/2/2017, the first entry in the notepad marks the end of a five-year stint on hormone blocking medication related to her victorious battle with breast cancer. She is a tough lady. No matter what family, friends, or fate throws at her, she can handle it. Growing old may be the hardest thing she’s had to handle to date. Watching Mom grow old is hard for me.
I take Mom to all her doctor’s appointments. A couple of years ago I only took her to the ones in the city because she was uncomfortable driving in heavy traffic. Now my presence is more about helping her comprehend what the medical professionals are saying rather than about traffic conditions. I get it. They throw a lot of technical jargon at you in a short amount of time. They also like to adjust her medication dosages, which can get confusing. We must rely on the notes in my journal, instead of the instructions on the bottle, to make sure she’s taking her medicine correctly.
Mom has a lengthy list of medication she takes for assorted reasons. She often asks me what this one is for or what that one is for. Thank goodness I have the internet. It only takes a few minutes to look all of them up on the computer and create a document listing the name, what it treats, and any other pertinent information. I printed off a copy of the list for her and saved it to the cloud for me. I keep as much of her medical information as I can on my computer, including medical power of attorney and DNR instructions.
Mom taught me how to be prepared a long time ago.
Braving the Storms Together
There are days it doesn’t seem fair to either of us. Mom and I know frustrations will happen and we forgive each other for being in a mood once in a while.
Caring for Mom is part of who I am and what I do. I consider her needs alongside my own. The rush of joy I experience on those rare occasions when everything gets accomplished with ease and convenience must be what it feels like to win the lottery or stumble upon a unicorn. It’s not anyone’s fault when the experience falls short of joyous. Parent child role reversal is hard.
An arctic front has plunged Kansas into bitterly cold temperatures accompanied by strong winds that create dangerous wind chill temperatures well below zero. One factor of activity scheduling involves paying attention to the forecast. Mom and I work together before bad weather hits to make sure she and her black and brown tabby cat Rusty have everything they need to keep them safe and sound. Today, the weather experts predict a slightly warmer day before the next arctic blast arrives.
I call Mom around 10am to work out grocery shopping in the afternoon when the temperature will reach its peak. She’s had a bad night. Intestinal issues woke her in the middle of the night and low blood pressure problems kept her up after that. She knows we have a small window of opportunity and agrees to grocery shopping, but she isn’t happy about it. She prefers to take herself to the store on her own terms, but a broken-down car means she needs help.
After lunch, I entered her apartment to find her sitting in her living room chair. The temperature in the room is quite warm, but her demeanor reminds me a bit of the arctic from yesterday. Her facial expression conveys a combination of sadness and anger. I’m not sure which emotion to expect first.
Turn Up the Volume of Blessings
I do not sugarcoat what lies ahead for Mom and me. Cherishing the little blessings of day-to-day life requires reaching for the volume button and turning it up.
The concept of being alone in a crowded room plays on repeat for an introvert like me. Mom and I differ when it comes to social comfort levels. Mom is a talker, and I am a listener. She engages with friends and strangers with ease, a trait both foreign and fascinating to me. With Dad no longer by her side, Mom experiences aging in an unfamiliar environment out of her normal comfort zone. A place where solitude resides from time to time. Mom rides an emotional roller coaster, sending her soaring on the good days and plummeting into loneliness on the bad days. The holidays amplify the peaks and valleys and often turn the bad days into bad weeks. Sitting on the couch with my husband as we watch football on a lazy Sunday afternoon in early December, I tell him I need to give Mom a call. I had not spoken to her in several days and I wonder how things went at Friday’s holiday luncheon at her senior living complex. My cell phone rings right on cue.
“Hey, I was getting ready to pick up the phone to call you. Brad says, speak of the devil.” We laugh and Mom fanes offense at her son-in-law’s remark. “That is the first good laugh I have had all week long. It’s been a rough week. You would have been so embarrassed by the way I behaved at the Christmas luncheon a few days ago. I do not know what is wrong with me, but I have been down in the dumps all week. This morning I had my breakfast and my morning pills, changed clothes, and started crying. I felt so sad I just went back to bed, skipped lunch, and slept until about 3:00 in the afternoon.” I have heard sadness in her voice many times over the last few years, but this time is different. She sounds baffled by why she feels depressed and frightened of her inability to shake the blues. I get the feeling she is not telling me everything I need to know.
Tying a Bow Around the Years
Christmas feels a little different for us each year. People come and go along with the ebb and flow of life’s tide.
December 2023 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
The calendar says December 1970 something, and I sit at the dining room table of my family’s three-bedroom home in the heart of Watson Addition, single-hole punch in one hand and the front portion of a previous season’s Christmas card in the other. My attention focuses on my delegated task. Charged with punching evenly spaced holes around the perimeter of the card, my tiny hands tackle the job with pride and precision. Based on the geometric attributes of each card, I select greetings from yesteryear for Mom to crochet together to form a colorful, festive box to house fruit, cookies, and candy. Mom’s local chapter of the Stitch and Chatter Club prepares weeks before the Christmas season for their community involvement project of sharing the handmade holiday spirit with the town’s elderly residents.
– Excerpt from Walking Old Roads: A Memoir of Kindness Rediscovered by Tammy Hader
Science tells me the time lapse of a year is longer than a minute. If this is true, then how did so many decades go by in the blink of an eye? The idea of aging enters my thoughts more in December than any other month. Ticking off another Christmas and ushering in the New Year brings the cycle of life front and center as I review the hardships and blessings encountered over the last twelve months. The depth of the past and the fragility of the future are more visible to me this time of year. I see Mom grow frailer with each passing year. She still lives by herself in a cute little 2-bedroom senior apartment, but I help her with a growing list of chores. She needs me to put gas in her car, vacuum her carpet, haul groceries into the house, and carry Christmas tubs out of the storage closet so we can deck the halls for the holiday.
Christmas feels a little different for us each year. People come and go along with the ebb and flow of life’s tide. I notice the marks of repeated use on the decorations we unbox for the season. Once upon a time, Mom and Grandma Maggie orchestrated our Christmas celebrations from tree trimming, to shopping, to cookie baking. We orbited around them in the homes they created for us. Burl Ives sang about Santa, snowmen, and reindeer on the stereo while my brother and me iced homemade sugar cookies and poured fudge into buttered platters. Dad hung lights outside for all to see and gifts circled the base of the artificial tree that was dripping with shiny tinsel and wrapped with a chain of colorful paper rings as it took its dutiful position in front of the living room picture window.
Traditions move on.
Published in the December edition of Inspirations for Better Living.
A Loving Communication from an Unexpected Fortunate Timing
Becoming a parent’s parent sneaks up on you even when you know it is coming. For us, it was gradual until Dad’s death thrust Mom into living alone for the first time in her entire life.
November 2023 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
The crisp, cool air of a sunny November morning relaxes my thoughts, pushes aside the hint of regret found in past reflections, and shines a hopeful light onto creating new memories before time runs out—the holiday season approaches.
Plastic tubs carry autumn decorations filled with an appreciation for nostalgia and the promise of good times to come. Alongside the plaque urging me to be thankful, I unpack the lengthy relationship between Mom and me and see progress up, down, and around the usual peaks and valleys experienced by most mothers and daughters. We have survived the harshness of temper tantrums, the blood and tears of scraped knees, the aftermath of kitchen disasters and accomplishments, the tears of joy and loss, and loads of grateful hugs. Our history together represents the continual evolution of identity for her, me, and us. Below are excerpts from my book, Walking Old Roads: A Memoir of Kindness Rediscovered, that best reflect Mom and my connection, which has beautifully evolved into a loving and unexpected benefit that nurtures our relationship beyond my imagination.
“Hello, kid!” Mom rises from her favorite recliner, straightening her shirt as she greets my entrance through the door left unlocked for me. “I brought you some Italian meatball soup I fixed for supper last night.” I am happy to see her back to her energetic self once again. “Oh, that sounds good. Just put it in the fridge wherever you can find a space.” The smile on her wrinkled face is one of the few weapons able to crack through my cynical temperament.
I do as she instructs without voicing my concern over the sugary drinks and pudding cups I see resting on the shelves inside a diabetic’s refrigerator. Mom and I are knee-deep in the inevitable swapping-of-roles segment of life, switching places as we reminisce about favorite memories, travel together to doctor appointments, and discuss how to operate modern technology. Unconditional love includes repeated tutorials on navigating the internet and accessing voicemail messages from a cell phone. Helping her while not stepping on the toes of her independence is tricky at times.
“What are we doing today?” The sincerity of her enthusiastic inquiry sets an expectation I hope I can live up to. “I was thinking we could start sorting through your boxes of photographs. I think it could help me find story topics for my writing projects. What do you think about the idea?”
“Oh my, those boxes are a mess. Are you sure you want to work that hard?” She chuckles on the way to the closet to clear a path to the boxes. She has already answered the question.
Becoming a parent’s parent sneaks up on you even when you know it is coming. For us, it was gradual until Dad’s death thrust Mom into living alone for the first time in her entire life.
Published in the November edition of Inspirations for Better Living.
A First Time for Everything
One of the most difficult things about transitioning into the role of caregiver is maintaining an emotional poker face.
October 2023 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
The immediate silence of inevitability washes through the room, radiating a wave of natural tranquility with an undertow of unnatural eeriness. The violent shifting below my feet comes to an abrupt stop in an unexpected moment of tearless solitude. I exhale and gaze at Dad, who now lies silent in the bedroom of his home. Dad is sharing the peaceful relief of the end of his existence with his little girl. For an unrecognizable amount of time, he and I are the only ones who know it is over. Overcome by the futility of trying to comfort the stranger occupying her husband’s body, Mom had retreated to the living room to gather her strength. I know I must strike the final blow to Mom’s breaking heart, but my lips cannot let go of the words.
“I’m sorry, hon. I just needed to leave the room for a bit.” Sitting in her favorite dark blue recliner, she apologizes for her absence as she dries tears from her face in preparation to return to his side.
“Sometimes you need a minute. I understand.” I hesitate for a moment before I continue. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but I think he’s gone.” The moment her panic-stricken eyes comprehend the meaning of my words sears into my memory. The agony of her cry lingers in my ears as she springs from the chair and races to Dad’s side. This marks the beginning of the first time she had ever lived alone.
In the next hours, the rooms of the apartment filled with grief, strangers, numbness, and the standard operating procedures of death. A year and a half later, Mom and I sat at the dining room table in this same senior living apartment as we worked out a payment plan for her recent hospital stay and related follow-up doctor appointments. The successful installation of a pacemaker indicates her congestive heart failure has taken another step up the hopefully gentle ascension to her own potential inevitability. The stability of Mom’s condition allows my visits to be less frequent and more about companionship than chores. Determined to learn how to function in life as a widow, she does her best to take care of her day-to-day life with little need for my guidance, but I see struggles taking a toll on her psyche.
Published in the October edition of Inspirations for Better Living.
A 47-Year-Old Mother’s Day Gift
Despite knowing full well that the circle of life flows in this direction, the feelings of fear, sadness, and desperation surprise me, and fill my body with a strange combination of duty and denial.
September 2023 Issue
Inspirations for Better Living
Only one stranger and I occupy the early morning calmness of the hospital waiting room decorated in an assortment of soothing, neutral, geometric patterns. Neither of us show interest in becoming acquainted with each other. I do not look forward to my involuntary inclusion into the troubled lives of anxious family members soon to claim their own seat in the waiting room. I close my eyes and release a heavy sigh as I anticipate the inevitability of anxiety driven conversations soon to reach out in my direction. The silence diminishes as the nearby hallway fills with the sounds of ringing phones requesting attention out of my line of sight. The chattering of hospital personnel, beginning or ending their work shifts, drifts casually into the waiting room alcove and fades away as their lives move on to fulfilling their own personal agendas.
Strangers find me approachable, often telling me I have a wholesome look. They might not be wrong. Modest makeup, a simple hairstyle, and practical clothing suggest I am not a rebel or a diva. Mom and Dad taught me to oblige those in need and provide a steadying hand to calm their anxieties, but today, this wholesome Midwesterner prefers to avoid eye contact, tune out distracting small talk, and cocoon in my own bubble. I need a minute to focus my attention on advocating for my loved one. Mom lies sedated in an operating room as she receives a new aortic valve. Experience reminds me that time spent in the hospital marks where the caregiving begins, not where it ends. The standard progression of her congestive heart failure suggests a pacemaker will be next, followed by the need for escalating assistance for her day-to-day tasks. Our roles blur at a pace that gains momentum with each passing year.
Mom and I’s story mirrors the lives of parents and children around the globe. My parents and I have always had a close relationship, allowing each other to be independent while providing a helping hand when needed. I turned to Mom and Dad, the original form of Google, as life’s questions and dilemmas surfaced over my early adulthood. Memories of Mom’s capable, rational guidance fill my history. My mom has been the most constant and unfailing love of my life. A few months before her aortic valve surgery, Dad passed away, leaving Mom alone for the first time in her entire life. Now it is my turn to be her source of strength and encouragement; my turn to heal the wounds inflicted by time and circumstances. Despite knowing full well that the circle of life flows in this direction, the feelings of fear, sadness, and desperation surprise me, and fill my body with a strange combination of duty and denial.
Originally published in the September 2023 issue of Inspirations for Better Living digital magazine.
Quick Start Guide to Parent/Child Role Reversal
Parent/child role reversal is nothing new. It was easy to ignore until it became the reality of my life. See how I'm learning to navigate into the role of caregiver.
I knew it was out there, stalking me from the shadows of time. Parent/child role reversal is nothing new. It was easy to ignore until it became the reality of my life. Pausing my thoughts, I swivel my head left then right just in case any other ordinary inevitabilities might be sneaking up on me. Other than a slight Midlife crisis, the coast is clear, and I can return my focus to helping my mom cope with the problems of aging.
“Mom and I are knee-deep in the inevitable swapping-of-roles segment of life, switching places as we reminisce about favorite memories, travel together to doctor appointments, and discuss how to operate modern technology. Unconditional love includes repeated tutorials on navigating the internet and accessing voicemail messages from a cell phone. Helping her while not stepping on the toes of her independence is tricky at times.” – Excerpt from Walking Old Roads
If you know what I’m talking about, then you can nod in agreement with the rest of this article. If you aren’t quite there yet, then you may want to make note of the points I’ve figured out in the last few years.
Allow Yourself to Grieve
You can’t experience the true emotional depth of losing the last thread of your childhood innocence until it happens. Knowing it’s coming isn’t enough to prepare you. Allow yourself to feel that Grief. You have the right to wish it away but know this. Change doesn’t always equate to bad. Life will be different and different can hold unexpected rewards. Feel sorry for what will be lost and feel hope for what will be gained.
Transitioning from Obligation to Honor
The weight of caring for a parent adds a layer of responsibility to a child’s adult life. Reminiscing about the past with my mom reminded me of how much she did for me without the need for anything in return – An important lesson to remember when the tables are turning. Memories define the time I spend helping Mom as less of an obligation to fill and more of an honor for the blessing of a life together. I suspect your memories can do the same for you.
Extinguish Guilt with Acceptance
There will be guilt. When life piles too much on your shoulders, there will be frustration and anger which will lead to feelings of guilt. Try not to get sucked too deeply into the quicksand of guilt. Learn to accept that it’s normal to feel everything you are feeling. Take a moment when you need it. I use the drive from Mom’s home to mine as a way to shift gears, to switch my focus from her world to mine. Find a place or an activity that allows you to decompress and keep things in perspective.
Rinse and Repeat
These steps are not a one and done solution to navigating parent/child role reversal. With each activity your parents lose, with each responsibility you gain, and with each curve ball life throws at you all at once, you’ll likely find yourself starting over with the process several times. Life in general is a Moving target and this aspect of life is no different. Don’t forget that you are not alone. Reach out to those you know who have already maneuvered this well-traveled road.
Despite the challenges of parent/child role reversal, you and your parents can make good memories as you move forward together. You will find strength in carrying a changed perspective out the other side of this time of your life. Making peace with change is how we keep moving forward along the circle of life.
Originally published at NABBW.com on 8-4-23.
Pivoting to the Path Not Taken
Life is full of choices, each leading to another series of options, then another and another. Perhaps a path not taken could be my next identity.
After 30 years of defining myself as an accountant and developing an adequately successful career, I decided to retire and explore a different path. This task sounds simple on paper, but translation to reality is anything but simple.
I realized I had to answer several questions for myself, including:
Where do I want to venture from here?
What would be stimulating and fulfilling for the second half of my existence?
How can I make a difference in the world, leave a mark after I am gone?
When you start thinking about it, you realize these are tough questions. Life is full of choices, each leading to another series of options, then another and another. Perhaps a path not taken could be my next identity. Are are the steps I eventually determined I needed to follow:
How to Decide What’s Next
The thought of what to do next overwhelmed me until I slowed down and attacked the dilemma with a tactical approach. First, I narrowed the playing field by setting parameters for my search. I took the time to be honest about what I wanted, and what I did not want, out of a new career path. I took a year off, caught up on neglected projects around the house, and determined the boxes a new job needed to tick. I figured out I enjoy working from home, prefer to be my own boss, love having a flexible schedule, and wanted to exercise my brain to maintain cognitive health.
2. Stay Within Your Parameters
I applied my wish list to potential jobs and produced a manageable number of options. I knew that selecting a path that stayed within the lines drawn by my parameters would be helpful to the achievement of my goals. After several months of thoughtful review of the history of me, regressive contemplation led me all the way back to the early 1980’s and Mrs. Ferrell’s high school English class. Decades ago, Mrs. Ferrell wrote a note on one of my essays that read, “I love the way you write.” So of course, I became an accountant. I was young, and Mrs. Ferrell’s praise of my talents simply did not correlate with career advice in my youthful mind. My mature perspective, however, now sees Mrs. Ferrell’s suggestion ticking all of my boxes. Words instead of numbers this time around.
3. Expect the Unexpected
I am a planner. It’s who I am. The advice I often give to myself is to plan thoroughly and then go with the flow. Recognize when it is best to pivot to an alternate version of Plan A. Evolution happens and Plan B, C, or D can be the unexpected perfect direction to go.
My writing evolved in this way from random essays on Medium.com, eventually becoming an adventure I would not have initially predicted. These days, I have a contract with WebMD for monthly migraine blogs, I am a contributing author for the Daily Gift Book Series, and I am releasing my first solo book in mid-June 2023. Keep an eye out for “Walking Old Roads” and decide for yourself if Mrs. Ferrell was right or wrong.
The 18-year-old me made a choice over 40 years ago. As with so many of life’s junctions, neither road was right or wrong, just different. I do not regret having lived a life of spreadsheets; it’s been well balanced and profitable, as you might expect for an accountant.
Exploring the path not taken is stimulating and fulfilling for me for now. Time will tell if my writing influences the lives of others and becomes my legacy to the world or if it will only be a means of personal growth throughout the second half of my existence. Either way, the future will at minimum be interesting and with any luck, adequately successful.
Where do YOU plan to go from here? Best of luck to all of you out there who are contemplating pivoting to your path not taken.
Originally published at the National Association of Baby Boomer Women.