I Am Spiraling
“Those who do not complain are never pitied.” – Jane Austen
I complain a lot here... but the constant pressure is getting old.
My wife, her sister and her mother are arguing and bickering over the care of my father-in-law. The tone is muted but tense. My wife is fighting a losing battle, and though she is right, she approaches everyone with a baseball bat and occasionally incoherent logic that, in spite of her many years as a licensed medical professional, is ignored by the housekeeper and the stay-at-home mom.
As I’ve written about more than a few times, my wife’s sister (and one of my dearest friends) fought cancer for two years and then passed away abruptly. It was and is a grind that long ago wore through my finished surface and is steadily eating through my soul now like a rusted '88 Buick from Chicago.
In some twisted and bizarre competition, her father is also dying. Only he’s been doing it for 5 years.
Of what? Well, clinically it’s Parkinson’s; practically, it's just being old. I think it has seemed worse than it is because he was never very physically robust and as he’s slid from bad to worse, it’s hard to tell the difference.
A couple of years ago, there was a particularly frustrating period when physical therapy couldn’t get him to project his voice. So there was an intense, drawn-out discussion about whether his condition was affecting his diaphragm, central cortex, or throat… a lot of suggestions were made. Ultimately, it came down the practice of having always been a low-talker. He just never spoke up.
It made me think about how my own mother always complained that my dad would mumble when he spoke. In this case, my father-in-law spent his whole life barely speaking above a whisper.
Movements that always seemed slow and calculated suddenly looked lumbering and imprecise. This made it difficult to understand where regular him ended and Parkinson's began.
But it's clear now.
At almost 90, he is a complete invalid with no quality of life. But he just will not die. Occasionally he'll have a coherent day, but mostly I see him communicate by being asked yes or no questions. And even though he's wasted to skeletal proportions, even a skeleton with organs weighs in at well north of a hundred pounds. When I was a roofer (and a MUCH younger man), as a feat of strength, I would carry two bundles of shingles up the ladder. Which was about 150 lbs. Young men do dumb things like that. So, when lifting my father-in-law and I estimate him to be in the 130 pound range, it's a pretty accurate assessment. But lifting a living human is WAY different than two heavy rectangles.
My mother-in-law has managed the last few years, but now that he is close to the end, he can no longer assist her to get up or lay down. It's all on her. And she's no spring chicken. Just a lot more robust than he is.
The two of them make me think about the idiom 'a rolling stone gathers no moss'. My mother-in-law was ALWAYS a go-getter. She walked fast, talked fast and is busy every waking moment. The complete opposite of her husband. So, it's no surprise to me that she is the caregiver.
But this won't last much longer. She's trying to do it all. She will let my wife help, but doesn't care for her opinion or direction on matters. She just wants someone to do whatever she asks—no opinions, no recommendations. My wife is not that person.
Her little sister is. In fact, we always expected my wife's youngest sister to be the go-to for care because she has NEVER been far from my mother-in-laws coattails (or pocketbook) in the 4 decades I have known her. But now that the rubber is meeting the road, we are finding out that she's less useful than we expected.
My sister-in-law has inherited her father’s sedentary tendencies, while my wife, like her mother, is a rolling stone. And like her mother, she also has a sharp tongue. Which is where the sparks are coming from this morning.
Okay, my part done, I think it's time I took my leave and let them battle it out without me. Eventually, he will pass away and they'll remember this as a time when they spent time together and helped dad at the end.
I hope, in time, I can look back with bucolic recollections. I am currently lost in the forest of emotion over it all. And it isn't a black cherry forest. I'd even settle for black licorice. But, lost I am and looking for a light to lead me out.
In the meantime, faith, truth and patience are my good companions.
#essay #memoir #confession #complaint #write #100daystooffload
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