Vernon: Now this is the thought that wakes me up in the middle of the night. That when I get older, these kids are going to take care of me.

Janitor: Don’t bet on it.

The Breakfast Club

When I was a teen, my grandfather came to live with us during the summers. During the winters, he would live with his other son’s family in Florida where the winters weren’t so punishing. My mother was very negative about him living with us for several reasons: 1) he had opposed their marriage and made critical remarks about my mother’s appearance, 2) he was particularly critical of my parents’ decision to join the Mormon church, 3) she was the one who would have to do the bulk of care for him (cooking, cleaning, laundry, transportation, conversations, and there were some incontinence issues as well). Her negative attitude probably soured me on the arrangement more than it should have, given that I was a fairly independent 15 year old at the time. I wasn’t as friendly or engaging as I should have been when he tried to talk with me about his life experiences that adult me would certainly find very interesting. Being chatty with him felt like a betrayal to my mother, or at least like she would see it that way. Plus, I had other things on my mind, chiefly the fact that my suntan was just not happening no matter how much baby oil I applied. Eventually, his visits up north to our house ended, and he stayed all year round in Florida. After a few more years, he went into assisted living and ultimately died of a stroke in his 90s when I was in college. The nurses at the home called him “old blue eyed Bill” and seemed fond of him.

My mother’s parents died at home within two months of each other, both of strokes. My grandmother had been rubbing a sore spot on her arm, then lay down for a nap and never got up. My grandfather died of a stroke two months later, but that still gave him enough time to reach out to the mistress he had been forced to abandon decades earlier to tell her they could finally be together. She declined as she had moved on a long time ago. My mother found out about that from her sisters and was very angry with him at his funeral. Because her parents lived in their own home until their deaths, a nearby sister had taken some extra care of them, and in their will, she inherited at double the amount of her two sisters, something that didn’t foster sisterly affection. The two who received less felt that the other one had been manipulative.

Because of these experiences, both my parents had a strong aversion to living with their children in their old age, and both were wary of assisted living. My mother passed on last year, but my father continues to live in his own home at age 100, and in addition to a sister who lives in his neighborhood, we adult children take turns visiting to assist with his needs: making sure he takes his meds, cooking, laundry, cleaning, yard work, and keeping him company. When I go, I can’t help but think what will happen when I am old. Will I be cared for in this way? Will I have to go to assisted living? Will Social Security run out, leaving me in penury?

I was talking with my childhood best friend this weekend. She doesn’t have children, but takes care of her mentally challenged older sister who lives independently but requires a lot of support and check-ins. Her sister has been given a difficult diagnosis that will curttail her life and probably make the next few years a bit more onerous for my friend who has had her own health struggles over the years. My siblings who assist with my dad’s care also have their own health struggles, and it’s on our minds as we try to ensure caregiver coverage.

As we age, the arrangement that makes sense depends on our actual needs:

  • What daily activities we can do for ourselves
  • Our health needs and physical capabilities
  • Our mental acuity
  • The ability of a spouse to provide support
  • The financial situation we are in
  • Resources through government, charities, veteran services, or the church

Often the adult children of aging senior have to have serious discussions with each other to determine who will do what, and how physically and mentally capable the parent actually is. People have different opinions about when it’s time to take away car keys, for example, or whether and how to broach the subject of elder care.

Both my in-laws have also died, and in both cases they were able to die at home surrounded by family with hospice care visits occuring during their final week. In both cases, it wasn’t a question of whether they would die. It was determined it would occur fairly quickly based on medical diagnoses. While that wasn’t ideal in some ways, in other ways it was; they could choose how to end their final days, and family was able to be present, surrounding them with love and memories. I still think I’d rather die like my grandmother–taking a nap after rubbing my arm.

The church is one of my dad’s valued routines. He even attends singles activities once a month, which I don’t think indicates he’s looking to remedy his singlehood, LOL. But the church really is his only social activity at this point. Due to his hearing loss, he doesn’t enjoy group interactions very much as he needs to be able to lip read, along with using a transcription app on his iPad.

All of this makes me look at my own future and wonder how I would want things to play out. How do I feel about going into assisted living vs. having my own house? We just finished watching season one of The Burroughs, a star-studded series about retired people living in a desert community (by the same guys who did Stranger Things, so expect lots of weird stuff to happen). Sam, played by Alfred Molina, is grieving the loss of his wife, but also doesn’t want to be put out to pasture by moving into a retirement community; he avoids his daughter’s calls and is bitter about his new arrangement. Jack, another neighbor, adopts the role of welcome wagon, arranging a barbecue for Sam, and befriending him on a deeper level. Neighbor Art spends his days golfing and smoking pot. Everyone’s got their own way to feel relevant and to enjoy their remaining days. In many ways, this picture of a retirement community seems ideal to me, but it also might get boring. I love to travel, so that’s really what I’d rather be doing. I was once on a cruise, and a 93-year old widower was assigned to our dinner table. Maybe that’s a good way to spend one’s twilight years. As I contrast these examples, I think that meeting new people is easy, but making new friends is difficult.

Economic factors and health are the two biggest constraints we must all eventually deal with as we consider how to spend our final years. The bumper sticker I’ve often seen on RVs says “We’re spending our kids’ inheritance!” which is everyone’s right. I used to joke that my parents were going to clean the house, eat the last food in their kitchen, spend their last dime and then step quietly into their coffins. While that’s not exactly right, it’s not too far off either.

  • Have you been through this type of planning process for your parents or grandparents?
  • How have life experiences shaped your own feelings about the elder care you will inevitably need?
  • What are your hopes for your own care in the future?
  • Have you had disagreements with siblings on the care of elderly relatives?
  • What role do you see the church playing in how you help your elders through this process?

Discuss.