And then, there is the other kind of twist n\u2019 turn; the type of twist that turns you inside out and upside-down and is not particularly welcomed.\u00a0 Just as my husband, Peter, and I were making our final plans to spend a few open-ended months in Tucson without concern of a return date (a mini\/semi-retirement for him \u2014 my work is portable), just as I was incredulously saying, \u201cOMG! This is incredible!\u00a0 We can go and come as we please. Can you believe it??\u201d<\/p>\n
Just as I bellowed from the deepest part of my soul, \u201cFreedom!\u201d a la Mel Gibson in Braveheart<\/em> (I forgive you, Mel, for your lame-brained remarks), my fully independent, still living on her own, 95-year-young mother fell, not once \u2014 but twice \u2014 and\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026The world of elder care came crashing down upon us.<\/strong><\/p>\n Peter and I rushed to the hospital where we found my mom \u2014 whose name is, by the way, Harriet \u2014 behind the emergency room curtain, lying lonely on the hospital bed. I asked, \u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n Harriet replied in her usual witty and wry style, \u201cThings could be worse\u2026 and they will be.\u201d<\/p>\n We laughed. \u201cThings could be worse\u2026 and they will be\u201d is one of my mother\u2019s signature sayings.<\/p>\n When I was five, Jimmy S. tripped me. (Intentionally?)\u00a0 My chin cracked open (I have the scar to prove it), and by the time I made my way home, my pretty-in-plaid kindergarten dress was bloodied up.<\/p>\n Mom said in a somewhat playful yet serious tone, \u201cOhhhh.\u00a0 Things could be worse.\u201d She followed this with a sympathetic smile and a half-chuckle. \u201cAnd they will be.\u201d<\/p>\n When my 6-year-old neighbor decided to practice his barber skills on my favorite doll, Patty Playpal, and cut off her long locks much to my distress, my mom once again said, \u201cThings could be worse\u2026 and they will be.\u201d<\/p>\n So mom fell, not once but twice, and \u201cthings\u201d surely could have been worse.\u00a0\u00a0 Her elbow was fractured; the crown of her head was cracked open just a tad, leaving a small gash; and she was pretty much a bruised-up mess.\u00a0 But she did not break her hip, no surgery was needed and she still has all her marbles, which was a very good thing.<\/p>\n Naively, I thought, \u201cA few weeks of rehab and life will return to normal.\u201d Boy-oh-boy was I wrong!\u00a0 The words, \u201cThings could be worse\u2026 and they will be\u201d have taken on new meaning.<\/p>\n As the weeks passed, it became abundantly clear that we were looking at a \u201cnew and lesser normal,\u201d and that the day had arrived. My mom, 95.5 years young, who had lived happily in her Long Beach apartment for 31 years, was not going home.<\/p>\n Elder care is a minefield of logistics and a roller coaster of emotions.\u00a0<\/strong> As I stated, our scenario is not the worst ever, but nevertheless it is madly overwhelming.<\/p>\n Madly is defined as wildly, fiercely.\u00a0 Its synonyms include absurdly, crazily, dementedly, desperately, exceedingly, frantically, frenziedly, hastily, irrationally, passionately, psychotically, senselessly, unreasonably, violently\u2026 Eldercare is all that and more.<\/p>\n One way I have been channeling my emotions, processing the daily happenings and seeing the opportunity in this journey (Yes, there\u2019s plenty of opportunity here for personal growth, including but not limited to surrender, compassion and humor) is to fast and furiously send emails to my real and \u201cchosen\u201d family.<\/p>\n These missives, which ranged from \u201cthree-tissue reads\u201d to \u201cside-splitting belly laughs,\u201d have proven to be an enormously therapeutic tool (for me), and the information and entertainment factor useful and even enjoyable for the family, which brings me here \u2014 to this page, and to YOU!<\/p>\n I know there are plenty of \u201cus\u201d caretakers out there, and we are stressed! According to a recent study from the American Psychological Association<\/a>, 55 percent of caretakers are just \u201cplain\u201d stressed, and 22 percent are \u201cextremely\u201d stressed.<\/strong><\/p>\n It is my intention to share my journey on these pages and to keep it real, which means telling the entire truth, not just the more sane and happier slices of it.\u00a0 I think the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me G_d, is necessary here.<\/p>\n This isn\u2019t about me.\u00a0 True \u2014 writing to you all is a most excellent way for me to empty my mind and vent about the happenings in my life; but I am merely one of the very many boomers who are currently navigating (or will be soon enough) the strange, alien, frustrating and frankly, insane world of elder care.\u00a0 Skimping on the truth wouldn\u2019t be helpful or fair.<\/p>\n So\u2026 Here \u201cwe\u201d go.\u00a0 I am reaching out to you for support and at the same time offering support.\u00a0 I am hopeful that you will seize this opportunity to empty your mind, tell your truth \u2014 comment below \u2014 so that we can, together, face this bittersweet time and help prepare those who are to follow.<\/p>\n Keep an eye out for my next post, when \u201cdelirium\u201d hits Harriet and these pages!<\/p>\n Spread the word \u2026 NOT the icing,<\/em><\/p>\n Janice<\/em><\/p>\n \u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014\u2014 Become a Tushkateer! 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