A spring evening

I know that the tasks that my father has undertaken are overwhelming to him sometimes. Was it a year ago that he said to me, "I can't stay. I just can't handle this any more." He spoke of another man in town whose wife became wheelchair-bound and was moved to a nursing facility. When he couldn't handle things any more, that man told his wife he wanted a divorce. Dad said thought the woman had Alzheimer's and he thought the man was wrong, but this day Dad wasn't so sure.

I corrected him about what was wrong with the man's wife, Multiple Sclerosis, not Alzheimer's. And I reminded him that wedding vows are about sickness and health til death. I don't have much respect for that man now. If he thought the MS was inconvenient for him, how did he think his wife felt? Nobody gave her a choice. She didn't get to say "Sure, that's what I want." She doesn't have the option of getting up and walking away. She is a prisoner in that wheelchair through no choice of her own. And HE wanted a divorce? Sorry. I shouldn't be judging anyone. But I don't understand how he could abandon her that way. The message that I got was, "I love you as long as you can walk and talk and make love and cook for me and clean for me and take care of me. but I won't love you any more when you can't do anything for yourself any more because I just can't take it."

Dad decided to stay when I was finished. "Mom always stood beside you no matter what."

But the burden is getting greater for him as Mom's condition progresses. And he is growing more frail himself. And my brother said, "You can't put your life on hold to take care of Mom and Dad," and I am thinking, "Someone has to. What other options are there?"

Summer is here. This is the last week of school. There are Little League baseball games to attend. A college student to help get everything set for her to go to live on the campus in the fall. Stories and articles to write. Parents to spend days with to help them enjoy quality of life for the rest of their days.

My husband couldn't keep up with the rapid fire thoughts that my mouth couldn't even keep up with. He said, "I'm starting to worry about you." The remark made me angry. "You don't have to worry about me," I answered. But further down the street I said, "Yes, you do! Maybe you SHOULD be worrying about me." I listed a ton of things I'm responsible for and how little help I get with things that my family could do to help me cover all of my bases. And I was amazed for the rest of the day as he made efforts to be concerned about me, to help me. Oh, that he would do that every day.