Driving north on Highway 218 and then 35W in a rare Minnesota March rainfall, I wondered how many times in my almost 67 years have I travelled these roads between Austin and the Twin Cities? J and I have lived in St. Paul for 43 years and since we both are from Austin, it is no surprise we have made frequent trips to see family, but I also have to count all those years I made half the drive when Grandma Kramer lived in Faribault. From birth until at least through my high school years, we visited her every week. And now history repeats itself and we visit dad every week.
With both my brothers off enjoying warmer climes, J and I have spent a few overnights these past weeks keeping company with dad in his apartment at the Cedars. Moving him there for a few months during the worst of winter was his idea and while it has turned out pretty much as we expected, it was still a worthwhile experiment. It confirmed what we thought - he really won't take advantage of any of the amenities a senior community or assisted living situation offers and the best plan is to continue to support his wish to be in his own home. He is happiest sitting in his chair, gazing out his picture window at the deer feeding in the field across the street, or the birds at the feeder, or the wild turkeys eating the corn he has shelled and tossed out the front door. He looks forward to the daily visits of his housekeeper or nurse who perform their tasks admirably and faithfully. They cheerfully accept his frequent calls and respond to his every request. They are there when we can't be and after witnessing the aging parent problems among my friends, and the cafeteria of solutions available in this society, this seems to be the best for him, and for us.
It occurred to me during this visit that I am getting over my need to "do something" when I am with him, and just "be there." I have accepted that at 92 it's just fine if all he wants to do is sit in his chair (with the tv blaring across the room) and everything he needs or wants in the world within arms reach. He likes to be waited on but I am also comfortable with the knowledge that he can do for himself when no one is there. He refuses offers to go for a walk in the hall, with the excuse that his shoulders are too painful , and when he is feeling no pain he fears " moving around might start that pain up again." His face does light up when he gets on the scooter he recently acquired and he has been known to take it for a spin to his mailbox. But overall I can count on my fingers the number of times he has left his apartment since he moved there February 1st. And that's ok.
After years of being a caregiver to mother, dad had become someone I barely recognized. Exhausted, bitter and angry at his inability to fix her, he resisted our efforts to help when we moved them to an assisted living facility and he blamed everyone for interfering. By the time she died we all wanted to be done struggling with him and gladly returned him to his house as he demanded. We agreed to support him as best we could, to keep him in his house.
And then the most amazing thing happened - he gradually emerged from that shell of bitterness and anger and began to talk, and reminisce, and show interest in life again. He accepts our help and advice and is pleasant and appreciative and most days it is a joy to talk to him, or be with him. He rarely shows the dad we had all come to despise - the loud mouthed, know-it-all who overpowered mother's weakened voice and spirit. Sometimes I am so sad to think that he is NOW the person she most needed in her final weeks. But I also find some comfort in the thought that maybe there was something going on between the two of them that we couldn't see - maybe she could see past his suffering and find her real husband of 67 years.
Thinking and talking about those last days of mother's life won't change a thing. What really matters is that we did the best we could for both of them. Sadly, I did lose her but there is comfort in getting dad back.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Bohland Ave Saint Paul MN
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