As I get older, I more firmly believe that objectivity does not exist. What I write about my mother is coloured by my relationship with her, my position as the oldest child, the rest of my life. In trying to understand why my mother’s old age is playing out this way, I defer to my sister, Cris, who has spent far more time with our mother over the years, and therefore has a much clearer, more intimate understanding. She can connect the dots more authoritatively and specifically than I can. I am so grateful to be on this evolving, often stressful, caregiving journey with her. We vent, brainstorm and encourage each other; her insights, support and sharing of the workload are necessary to being able to keep going.
This reflection was originally published in August 2022 at mariasmind.com. Most of what I wrote then continues to reflect our situation; our mother’s physical health has remained essentially the same, but her mental health is weakening. She still loves fresh carnations on the table facing her recliner. Alexa only lasted a short while. The old radio is back. Most worrisome, she takes increasingly less interest in the practical aspects of maintaining her home.
The main adjustment that old people must make is to cede control, sometimes gracefully, sometimes grudgingly, sometimes suddenly. The aggregation of life factors – genetics, physical and mental health, diet, education and their life stories – determines how much control must be surrendered to others and when it needs to happen. Of course, some are able to continue living independently for longer than their peers. Giving up driving was very difficult for my mother. Not only did driving give her autonomy, but also her friends, some of whom are life-long non-drivers, relied on her to transport them to church, meetings and appointments. Being a driver was an integral part of her identity. My mother is generally content – and too tired after a lifetime of working hard, at home and for others, with very few breaks – to accept that cleaning, cooking, banking and gardening will not be done as she did them. Although she is unable to physically do all that she always did, her continuing priorities certainly affect how we take care of her and her house. Fresh flowers make her smile. However, she has had to adjust to our ways and timetables. Her simple, healthy, scrumptious meals would have gained even Gordon Ramsay’s approval, so, most of the time, the meals we prepare for her are definitely not as delicious and varied as hers were, but she seems resigned to, gratefully, accepting her children’s help.
Watching the Pope online during his visit to Canada as he clearly struggled to stand and sit, my mother observed that “the Pope has the same problems I do.” She also observed that his present painful difficulties are largely the result of the life he has lived, just as hers are. We discussed how his wheelchair and her walker allow them to take advantage of modern technology to fulfill their obligations. I remind my mother that the technology that permeates our lives, used strategically, can have benefits. A kind granddaughter has loaned her Alexa, which provides a clear, consistent signal, replacing her staticky old radio – as well as providing several days of amusement because it responds to her oral commands. Although old people must sometimes cede control to others to open doors, assist them with transitions, such as sitting and standing, their personalities, priorities and ability to be themselves are often even more striking and poignant in contrast to their physical fragility. In other words, we take ourselves with us, including hopefully into old age.
Some old people, however, struggle to accept their frailty and the increasing intrusion of the younger generation, often their children, in making incrementally more important decisions for them. For some, coming to terms with the ceding of control, the inevitable changes, is extremely upsetting and difficult. For my mother as well, inevitably there are times when the adjustment is unbearable and frustrated criticism leaks out. Why are my empty ointment boxes not still in the cupboard where I store them? I don’t remember tossing them into the recycling bag, but one of us, in an attempt to reduce clutter over these past two years, must have because they’re not there now, at least not where she remembers them being. Someone must have thrown away the mop I always used for cleaning under my bed. The implication is that I, as the oldest, as the one who has made and incited rash attempts to slowly shrink the amount of STUFF must have gotten rid of it to make way for something newer and more expensive to use. After a bit of detective work – it has some blue on it – I immediately find it in the laundry room, where she has not been for at least two years as it is in the basement. Stairs have become exhausting and scary as she increasingly loses control of her leg muscles and their previous strength diminishes. From what my mother tells me about her conversations with her big sister and her fellow old lady friends, it sounds like they all struggle at times to adjust and accept their increasing dependency on their children and others. For example, I know that for my mother, who was a paid caregiver for many years, it is discombobulating to now be the receiver of care. We must all compromise, respectfully and pragmatically, if possible.
In conjunction with writing and thinking about this topic, I read Aging with Grace: What the Nun Study Teaches Us about Leading Longer, Healthier, and More Meaningful Lives by David Snowdon, which was published in 2000 and focuses on Alzheimer’s disease. The study, which is ongoing, looks into the correlation between the nuns’ lives, including yearly tests of their “mental and physical abilities late in life” (33), and autopsies of many of the nuns’ brains. One of the generous participants explained that “through brain donation, we can help unravel the mysteries of Alzheimer’s disease and give the gift of life in a new way to future generations” (59). The Study’s conclusions are the outcome of close examinations of the nuns’ brains – looking for, counting and assessing the progress of plaques and tangles in brain tissue – and how genetic background, exercise, education, and remaining active and interested, impact the state of the brain in old age and, for those whose autopsy shows signs of Alzheimer’s, the degree to which it is reflected in the nuns’ ability to function successfully even when they are old. Reading the nuns’ stories adds meaning and personalizes, in a sweet-sad way, the statistics and results. The text ends at the end of 1999 with the birthday of one of the nuns who celebrated her 105th birthday. She was one of seven sisters belonging to the order of the School Sisters of Notre Dame who were centenarians. One of the main points that is made is about the critical importance of community. This topic is discussed frequently with my mother and among my friends who have elderly parents. In my mother’s case, community means not just family, but also her little old lady friends who share her culture and especially her religious perspective. They check up on one another, monitoring their health issues, discussing their families, and unfortunately passing on information about the death of one of their friends: their generational fellow travelers.
Because we are social beings, this sense of community is critical. Snowdon emphasizes that the elderly sisters, regardless of their ability to function, are compassionately supported by one another. He states that “the power of community” (202) is key to the nuns’ contentment, despite the increasing physical and mental fragility, especially of the very old nuns. My mother also turns increasingly to her community, her circle of friends and family, to sustain her through the changes, the ceding of control, as she deals with what being old looks like for her.
I have tried to understand my mother by considering things from her point of view (To Kill a Mockingbird). I am watching and learning from how she is coping with being old. What do you think is necessary to having a fulfilling long life? Use the Comments section below to share your thoughts.
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