Wishing for More Time

While my life rapidly evolves due to the changing health of my parents, there are many circumstances that add to the pressures of making sure their golden years are golden. Balancing my finances is the biggest challenge as I work to maintain two homes. It would be a dream to work just one job and make enough money to take care of all of us. The most fun part is creating weekly menus, grocery shopping, and cooking. I LOVE that part. If I could create menus, shop, and cook for 20 people every week, I would. My least favorite responsibility is the cleaning. Making sure my parents are living in a healthy and safe environment is a daily priority. The one thing I need more of is... time.

I always feel so pressed for time. Even when I am broke until the next payday (which is often 4 or 5 days away), all I can think about is how time is running out. The changes in my mom are becoming more and more visible. My dad has discovered a sudden burst of energy and responsibility. Yesterday, he sneaked out of the house on his own, in the rain, and drove to the doctor. He also jumped in yesterday and helped with mom's medicine. On days like that, I feel more pressure to take care of my dad better. Part of that effort is making sure my dad has time to connect with his brother.

My uncle who is a priest and a Franciscan monk, also has Alzheimer's. Six years younger, he is my dad's only brother. He was diagnosed a few years before my mom and his order shipped him off to Wisconsin to an assisted-living home specifically designed for Franciscans. I have been able to take my parents to see him twice but now,  my uncle is swiftly declining.

Much like my grandfather, my uncle has recently become a bit aggressive and this has resulted in a shift in his residence. We used to be able to take him out with us. We could go to the lake or shopping or to a restaurant. But now, he is restricted to the property and every report comes with news of more change.

This summer, we will make the 7-hour trek to Manitowoc, WI to see my uncle again. Tearfully, my dad informed me that this could be our last trip to see my uncle. I extended our plans. We will stay a little longer so my dad can just sit with my uncle. We will celebrate my uncle's 45 year anniversary as a monk. There will be a special mass. We will also celebrate my dad's 77th birthday and my nephew's 14th birthday. We will spend TIME with family. Time which will inevitably feel too short. As it does every day.

I worry that seeing my uncle will create a greater fear in me regarding the future for my mom. But I will be strong because it is what I do. And I will keep working to make sure my parents' senior years are good and safe and as perfect as possible. And I will work three jobs if I have to even though it will take away from the time we so desperately need.

The clock keeps ticking and I keep chasing after every single minute with no regrets.

Turn Back Time

So many days, I wish I could turn back time. Often it's for obvious reasons like "I'm getting older and haven't done some of the things I really hoped to do in life." But most days, it's because I am afraid of what comes next.

Within the last few months, I have grown acutely aware of the circle of life as I have watched my parents deteriorate in areas we do not often consider. My compassion for old people has broadened tremendously and I believe now, more than ever, that everything is truly preparation for something later on down the road.

Arthritis cripples mom's hands while Alzheimer's paralyzes parts of her brain. Her crooked fingers, no longer able to grasp many objects, fail her as she clings to the pickle jar. She wants pickles even though it's not yet 10 o'clock in the morning. She navigates the kitchen as if she is 6 feet wide. Short, awkward steps designed to usher her around a begging dog on the floor beneath her.

"Mom," I stop her. "You have plenty of room to get through. You are not that wide and your feet are not that big. Just walk. The dog will move."

She doesn't believe me and continues to shuffle sideways past the dog and to the table. She plops down onto the wooden chair that shifts slightly, almost dropping her on the floor. Dad watches without comment, without assistance. He ignores her struggles. Just like every other day.

I have always gotten easily frustrated with my dad. Even more so now. "Help her!" I yell at him sometimes. But he is afraid of falling so he sits nearly all day every day. He moves from the couch to the bathroom to the kitchen to the couch. He is so afraid he will fall and break a hip and never come home. He is losing feeling in his feet and can barely carry them around any more. He rarely wears shoes. (I can relate. I have no feeling in my left foot and most of my left leg. So I feel vulnerable at times too.)

I just wish we could go back ten years. Get them on a regular exercise plan. Help them to eat healthier. Be better prepared for the difficulties life throws at us now. And yet, I don't make time to do those things for myself because I am too busy cooking for them, cleaning for them, and making their days as simple as possible.

I also wish I had a partner, a friend, a spouse to walk through all this with me. But, alas, another thing I forgot to make time for... If only we could turn back time.