I know that it's been a while since I posted anything original, but personal problems had gotten in the way, so I do apologize.
If someone were to ask me what the hardest part of caring for an elderly parent was like, I would not have a straight answer--it was all hard: emotionally, financially, and physically. Everyday brought a new challenge that had to be faced. Watching your own parent slowly "drift" away from reality while trying to keep a happy face is not easy to do. I now know what it must be like for those who care for an adult child with physical and mental disabilities, though my time was limited to only a year.
Each day, I would get up early and go through what became a routine: wash-up, get dressed, prepare for breakfast, and set-up the medicines that would have to be administered. Some days, mom would already be awake and waiting for me to help her to the bathroom. This is what became a regular practice each and every day: I would help her to sit up and wait for her to get adjusted to being vertical, which would take anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour. I'd talk to her and let her know what needed to be done, all the while assuring her that she was safe and everything was going to be all right. When she was ready, I had to place each of my feet in front of hers, grasp her hands, and on a count of three, slowly pull her to her feet. Then I'd have to wait for her to get her balance and confidence to walk with her walker to the bathroom. In the early stages, she wanted to "do it herself," though that also became more difficult over time. You might think of it as "potty training" for an elderly person because I literally had to do everything for her.
When that was done, it was a long trek back to her bed or sometimes to the kitchen, and then carefully getting her to sit down and "catch her breath." Then the fun would begin...administering medications. Mom had 13 different medicines, most of them tablets, that had to be taken in the morning. At first, she had no problem taking them on her own, but in time, swallowing became an issue. The solution was to cut in half or crush each one and mix it with some soft food. Needless to say, this was awful for her because pills don't exactly taste great when broken-up, even when mixed with food. It became more and more difficult over time to get her to take her pills. Some time later, her doctor advised me to split her medications between morning, afternoon, and evening, which only added to her misery and mine. I truly believe that it was because of the medications that Mom slowly lost her taste for food since she associated food with medicine.
Mom did not always stay at home in the early stages, and had to be taken to doctor's appointments. I was able to purchase a red transport chair, and had to learn how to schedule my time to get her to the car, out of the chair and into the car, and store the chair until we arrived at our destination. Then it would all be in reverse. I had to time everything from travel, to parking, to transporting from the car and back, and did this mostly on my own. Afterward, Mom sometimes wanted to go to her favorite restaurant for " a nice meal," so we would go through the same routine again. Mom also wanted to go to church on Sundays and observe certain church holy days, so I had to create a game plan for those situations also. I never really gave a second thought about doing any of this because I was doing this for my Mom, and would do it all again for her if I had to.
Most people today have different ideas or definitions of what love really is. I was always taught that love is a sacrifice. After all, is that not what Jesus Christ did for us on the cross? I was given my cross to bear and accepted it out of love for my mother, and I am glad and happier for having done so.
This is a picture of my mother in better times, and it's probably how she would most like to be remembered. Just a few short years after this photo was taken, all of her real troubles began.
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