People are living longer, and dealing with what they call the super-elderly (80+) takes its toll. Watching their slow, inevitable decline is hard enough, but the crisis moments are worse. The middle-of-the night phone calls telling me one of them has fallen, the trips to the Emergency Room for various and sundry issues, the protracted hospitalizations requiring complete rearrangement of schedules for weeks on end. Those are the things that wear down caregivers and family members and push everyone to the point of exhaustion.
As organized as we think we are-I'm at the point where I keep a bag in my car with their medication lists, a book and a pair of socks (Emergency Rooms always seem to be cold), there are always details to be seen to, and an ever-changing landscape of papers. Powers of Attorney? Check. Health Care Surrogate forms? Check. I even had extra copies made and store them in my car with the other hospital necessities. But there is more. We're at the point where we need to consider whether or not to execute DNR orders. That's a minefield. Dad says he's ready to die, and would be willing to execute one, but having the conversation with him and his doctor feels like taking a step into the abyss.
When you're caught up in the quotidian acts of personal care and endless rounds of doctor visits, it's hard to think of the big picture items. Just trying to get them to decide what kind of funeral and burial they want was excruciating-who really wants to contemplate their own mortality, especially when it's rushing toward you at warp speed?
The wills need to be reviewed periodically, and there are always changes and things we've overlooked. Making lists of personal items they would like bequeathed to friends and family is a difficult exercise, but essential to avoiding bickering down the road. Even when you think you have all your bases covered, there's always something else, and usually it occurs to you while you're cleaning up shit, both figurative and literal.
Of course, just beneath the surface lurks that little voice telling you "You're next." You wonder if your kids will hold a basin for you while you vomit for days on end from the effects of antibiotics. Will they call once a week, or be more involved-helping with chores around the house and maybe bringing dinner?
Handling meals for my parents has been a team effort-my kids bring them takeout once a week or so, my brother picks up something for dinner when he's in town, and I often cook extra and bring them a portion of whatever we're having for dinner. This means there are nights where my family eats without me, because I'm detained by some problem-a leaky faucet, a tv that isn't working-sometimes I think it's more about having company than about whatever they ask me to fix.
Putting them in a nursing home would be a whole lot easier on me, but would have a serious impact on their quality of life. As the baby boom generation moves from retirement to declining health, we will be looking for alternatives to being warehoused. Most of us have fewer children than our parents did, and families are now more likely to be scattered all around the country, if not the world. This puts a wrench in the old model of family members taking care of elderly relatives, so we'll need to find new alternatives for our "golden years." Elder Cohousing is a fairly new concept that sounds much more appealing than traditional assisted living, and I'm sure we can come up with other interesting ideas. I have no idea when or if I'll be able to afford to retire, but when I do, I'd like to find a place in Asheville, so I can take advantage of their Center for Creative Retirement.
If not, maybe we'll get those death panels.
