Caring for the sick and the aging ?
Anna buried her mother who was immobilized by a spinal stroke in the last five years of her life. It helped that Anna was financially secure (honestly, medical bills can shock and snuff out any life). Her mother brought the curtain down quietly, peacefully, and in slumber.
Many of us had gone through the same experience. Looking back, very few would have wanted it any differently. The guilt would have haunted us and would have weighed more heavily than all the tough times that accompanied it.
In her old age, my own mother became hardheaded but overall, our relationship was no great shakes. It was a toss-up between rip-roaring comedy and hair-pulling anxiety. She grinned whenever I reminded her to remove the two s’s in her diet: salt and sugar. She listened, (did I catch a naughty smirk?), nodding her head ceremoniously but then, she’d turn to whisper a contrary instruction, “Hide the sweets.”
Being weighed down by any illness alters one’s life, and the lives of children and the household. Count it propitious that in our culture, nursing homes is still considered the last fallback. The elderly is never separated from the rest of the family and we make the necessary adjustments to keep him/her under the same roof.
However, the day-to-day caring is a challenge.
Take a friend who lived abroad. Her sick husband became so weak (“The doctors assaulted him with hazardous toxin.”) that it took a cruel toll on his mobility. My friend was left on her own to handle and cope with his deteriorating condition. That feeling of self-pity lunged at her and siphoned off her energy. Sometimes, she’d offer no resistance and simply cry. “I had barely changed the sheets reeking of stench and urine when he’d again bellow with frustration, ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t reach the toilet.’” Human excrement was splattered on the bed and on the carpet.
Once, when she returned home from running errands, her husband was flat on his back, stiff as a trunk, but moaning. He was covered with vomit and feces. He was terribly embarrassed but what could he do?
Lesson one: Old folks, even when they’re frail, can be very tough (and violent). It was like he was fighting tooth and nail to keep himself intact with his independence and his dignity. It was his last stand.
Like a tease, their appetite shoots up. They crave for anything that turned the food pyramid upside down — red meat, fatty or fried food, rich cakes, and processed or canned goods. An auntie blamed her bum taste buds. She couldn’t distinguish the saltiness from the sweetness anymore. This made her very argumentative and she growled. Life was like a weather forecast (sunny or stormy?) for the entire household, whether related or not. My cousin wanted to pin a medal of valor especially on those who were hired to respond to her constant need for attention.
Lesson two: When mobility is compromised, the sense of humor peters out. They become bored, short-tempered and discontent. The mother-in-law of my sibling lost her sight because of diabetes. She used to enjoy going out for a drive but now, the car had hardly left the garage when she’d cry out, “Bring me back to my room.”
In the meantime, mixed feelings swell in you — sadness, impatience and exasperation, plus guilt. Images of the past would beset you, saddling you with thoughts of what they had sacrificed, had given and had gone through, for you.
Dave Shifflett, a blogger, called it Gratitude Deficit Disorder. “We keep stiff upper lips, but those lips often conceal grinding teeth.” Dave also experienced caring for an ailing father. Whenever his father made a filthy mess, he’d apologize to Dave. Out of nowhere, Dave would respond, “You’re hanging in there, Dad.” It became his go-to phrase whenever he became upset and was saddened by his father’s steady decline.
Lesson three: Keep an open mind and find a purpose in these sufferings: “Life, no matter how hopeless, is to be lived to the final breath.” Even if it reaches a point where sustaining it may become futile or a boring chore. Dave Shifflett continued, “Grumblings and irritations didn’t diminish its value.”
“It must have been God’s last act of mercy when He allowed me to hold my mother’s hand, stroking her hair and kissing her gently as she drew her last breath,” Anna said. “The thought that Mom was finally free, and I imagined her growing new wings like an angel, gave me such peace and comfort.”
The challenge of caring for loved ones will echo with memories of the bittersweet struggle. But, let us not forget the exchange of strength and love that happens, each time. This is the most beautiful.
