TISSUES AND TOOTHPICKS

It is funny how your view of your parents change over the decades that pass. Moms and Dads run the gambit from caregiver; to advice giver; to cheering you on in the stands giver and then it hits. They become unable to be a giver because they can no longer even give what it takes to maintain themselves. The cycle of infant; to toddler; to adolecent; to young person; to spouse; to parent; to grandparent; to retiree, then slowly or quickly depending on fate, to child again is frightening to experience. However, it is just as frightening for the care giving children who must resume a role that is not quite parenting but eerily seems like it again. The challenge in the caregiving role this time is to nurture in a way that dignity is not extinguished. The kids enter a world where their conflicting emotions will take them from the anxiety level of a Steven King novel to the insanity level of a redundant Dr. Suess book. When it comes to my life most of this experience falls to my sister Bobbi because of geographical choices made by my parents. I constantly fight off the guilt of not being able to care for Mom and Dad by repeating to myself over and over, "It was not your choice, it was not your choice..." but guilt scores the win almost everytime.

It came suddenly with a phone call from my sister in August. "We are going up to see the kids in Indiana and Mom has decided that she and Dad want to come stay with you for three weeks". The adrenaline pumped as I asked when to expect them. "In about four days, is that going to be okay"? My mouth was spouting all sorts of affirmatives and positives but my mind was racing with thoughts of panic filled hows. It was not that I didn't want them to come or that I didn't want to do it, but the fact that spur of the moment is not a phrase that can be easily acquainted with two 86 year old people. Because she was 86, Mom didn't seem to get that concept. She was driven by what she wanted to do not by what was feasible to do in a short amount of time. You gotta love her though because she still has spunk, even though her spunk comes at a cost of exhaustion to those that have to make the arrangements for wherever her spunk may lead her!

The fury began as I stressed over whether or not the shower was accessible, how to make the airport pick-up managible, what to do if they needed medical help, and the list goes on. In the end it all worked out as each day got a little bit more perfected in routine and time management. My Daddy never accepted the need for me to help him shower, even though WITH my help he was exhausted. He dispareingly resorted to being tolerant through the whole process but reserved the right to have a pissed off attitude so that he could maintain the claim that he didn't really need the help and HE was appeasing me! Gotta love my Daddy's sense of hanging onto dignity. My Mom was the exact opposite. She welcomed the help and was appreciative through it all. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and nurtured me through the experience as we met learning mistakes head on with humor and laughter. I never compared the two to each other. I just accepted the fact that they each had their way when it came to showering of dealing with the loss of independence. It was my duty to respect that choice without judging who made it easier for me! So it went forth with each aspect of care, ranging from meals, to pill dispensing, to getting ready for bed and the nightly ritual of watching televison together even though I hate Wheel of Fortune. For me the different care issues were the same, but for Mom and Dad they varied in their attitudes lest you think Daddy was always the obstinate one.

It is amazing to me that there is such a thing as time passing quickly and slowly at the same time. Yet, in this visit that is exactly how it felt. It was just a few days after they left I began finding the the tissues and toothpicks around the house. These tangible items on the floor, in the beds, in the dryer. Mom's tissues soft and Dad's toothpicks sharp, much like their attitudes toward showering. I'll never look at those items the same again in my life. To me, each one represents the aspects of what is left to give when we reach a time where our giving is limited. The softness of gratitude and laughter and the sharpness of pride and dispair as those we love do for us what we can no longer do for ourselves. I hope that as I pass through the realms of becoming elderly I can remember this so eventually,when I am gone, my children will find more tissues than toothpicks that I have left behind.