Taking Care of an Aging Parent

I never wanted to be a mother. And yet, because my mother is aging with numerous health problems, I find that's exactly what I am becoming -- just not literally.

There's that old joke - which is almost too cruel to be too funny -- that parents at first parent us and then we turn around and parent them. But it's true -- that's where I'm headed.

My mother had a stroke about eight years ago. She recovered pretty well, considering. Afterwards she could still walk, talk, balance the checkbook, drive - all those silly things we take for granted but which are an important part of feeling independent.

But age is taking its toll. She's slower than ever, creeping along with stiff joints, achy back and weak legs. Her handwriting is not so steady anymore and I find myself writing some of her checks for her (with her approval, of course). She's hard of hearing and confuses easily, so I must frequently repeat myself, loudly, and often.

Sometimes I tell her I'll take care of it, since an offer for insurance from the bank raises her hackles and she thinks it's some kind of conspiracy to find out about her income, to nibble at her small savings, to spy on her somehow. There's no reasoning with her on those things. Sure, we're numbers in this world and there's probably way more information stored about us somewhere than we could ever imagine, but some days I just want to focus on paying the mortgage and finding a good deal on milk and eggs and not worry about nefarious mass mailings. The world is overloaded with information, after all, and some things I'd rather filter.

Unfortunately that's one of the things she can't do so much anymore: Everything is screaming with urgency, no matter how insignificant it would appear to anyone else.

So I've become a mother in some ways to my own mother.

I buy groceries for her and nag her to eat more fruits and vegetables and drink milk and water. I drive her to the doctor's office and listen in and tell the doctor what she's forgetting to tell her and remind the doctor about things my mother won't reveal. I check my mother's mail and tell her what it really means. My husband and I go to visit her and fix the TV or pound nails in the wall or move a shelf. We drag her out of her apartment so she gets out and socializes a bit.

It can sometimes get frustrating - especially when her paranoia and fears set in - but it's nice to know I'm doing the right thing. Talk about the cycle of life coming full circle.

I don't even want to think what happens when we grow old.