If the Caretaker Needs a Caretaker then Who Does the Caretaking

My Mother-in-Law with us at Mom's 90th Birthday Party

Those of you who know me personally may be wondering why I haven't yet addressed the elephant in the room - or more specifically, the downstairs master bedroom.  My Mother-in-Law lives with us and has now for the past four and a half years.  I've avoided it frankly because I wasn't sure I have the right to talk in detail about her for one thing. Why that never stopped me when I very first started blogging as I was caring for my mom all the way back in 2008 and first authored Woman at a Crossroads, which at its inception was about taking care of her, I can't really say. It was a lonely, hard time and it helped me cope to write about it so maybe it was worth the invasion of her privacy. Whatever it was, sharing stories about Mom never gave me pause. Maybe because she was my mom and not someone else's so I felt I owned a part of the story. Which I did, and I do here as well really so probably, despite my noblest intentions some of it will seep out over time.  But, whatever, for now here we are, and for the three people who live in this house, the roles of caretakers and caretakee (just made that word up) are the overriding factor of our lives every single day, so it's almost impossible to write about aging and not address it.  So here's what I'll do: I will address the overarching issue of caring for our aging parents when we're beginning to deal with our own health and welfare as we ourselves age.

When my dad died I was 31 with two small children, one still in diapers. I lived on the other side of the country from them. So, I was young and dumb (but old enough not to think I was young and dumb), and absorbed with my job, my kids and myself. I think back on it, and the signs were there that my dad had been struggling with his health for a while, but it was like Red Leader's shot at the Death Star: it just impacted on my surface. When Mother finally had to call and tell my husband to tell me Dad had cancer, it was very advanced (yes, she really did leave a message that my husband had to tell me that night as we celebrated our anniversary). And by the time she couldn't wait any longer to call me home, he only had days left. While I was left in shock at how fast it seemed and how little time I had to process the fact I was losing my father, I'll have to be honest that I had the thought, "Well that one was easy."

Before you judge me, what I meant by that is that I grew up realizing my parents were potentially going to reach the point where they needed my care while my children were still young. I spent way too much of my childhood wondering how I would manage it.  Mother was where those fears came to fruition. My kids were teenagers, which was not an easy time for them or me. Again, if you know me, you know some of this. But in summary, I was trying to cope and learn how to be a good caregiver for teenagers in crisis and Mom had a whole laundry list of serious ailments she was very stubbornly contending with: diabetes, Parkinson's, catastrophic heart failure, and the Apex Predator: Alzheimer's being the leaders on the list. It was a hard few years, with the last couple being a full-on nightmare. I ate what I could when I could.  Maybe I slept some, but I don't really remember.  I lost my job at one point. I lived my life in doctors' waiting rooms or in hospital ER's. I kept an ER-ready bag in my car. But, on the flip side I was young enough to put my body through that and manage to keep going, albeit gaining a lot of weight during that period that it took until the pandemic to really work off. I also started biting my nails out of stress. I managed to cure that before the pandemic, but it didn't go away overnight. If I was in my 60's and going through her last few years, I'm not sure how I'd have held up.

In theory, you think that by the time your folks are old enough and frail enough to need full-time care that your kids will be out of the house, your career will be winding down and you will still have the time and energy to deal with what they need. If you're lucky, you'll have siblings that will share the burden.  If you're truly blessed, you'll have the money to afford great care for your loved ones. But what I think too, is that too many of us are faced with is a far darker reality.  I see it living here: families are close knit in the 'Burgh. Our living situation is far from unique. Many, many other families live just down the street from one another if they don't live in the same house. My next door neighbor when I first moved into this house was an elderly woman whom we rarely saw but knew she was quite older. Her son lives across the street and down two doors from me. She's gone on now, and her grandson and his new family live in her house now and you'll see everyone walking back and forth to one another's houses a lot. Both the son and grandson are firefighters serving at the same firehouse. Family and tradition. It framed this city's personality and still holds it in place. Some of it is steel belt culture, but some of that culture is because Pittsburghers are by and large working class folks, so the children know they'll have to step in because they can't afford a phalanx of nurses or a fancy care facility. But while they all accept the responsibility, it doesn't make it easy. And what I've had to wonder a few times in the last few years is who takes care of the caregiver if something happens to them?  Which I realize is now a lot more of a possibility than it was 15 years ago when Mom went through her final years.

I asked my husband once if he'd thought about what to do for his mom if something happened to him. I got the stink eye and no response. But it's not an unreasonable question. He travels a fair amount for work; things happen.  And things happen like heart attacks, cancer, COVID, you name it.  It's a pessimistic thought, but isn't it also a practical one to have and plan for? (And, yes, let's be real: part of the reason to ask it is because I was implying the Plan B for her care is not going to be me by myself - I think he was aware of that and that's what drew the stink eye, not that I might have been implying he's heart attack bait.) Those were thoughts I didn't stop to have 15 years ago. I just accepted I'd be there to see it through. Now, I probably will be, but...

Of course, all I control is what I can control, so all my financial decisions at this point are beginning to turn toward making sure these aren't worries that keep my one and only daughter up at night when it's her turn in the caretaker role.  Well, not all - I still plan on going to lots of sporting events and trying to rescue all the dogs...can't save all your money for your final days. Gotta live some of those days in between after all.