(Forgive the language, please a it just seemed quite appropriately used here.)
There’s a lot of junk that comes with getting old. I don’t merely mean old-er. I mean old. There are lots of little hassles and troubles involved with getting older, with aging as a whole. But getting old has a uniquely stressful aspect: As the body and mind age, they often tend to revert towards babyhood, and adults are not prepared to take care of a 90-year-old toddler who not only can make others believe he is competent and allowed to be out alone, but can get out alone the moment a back is turned or a corner is rounded.
At some point, when ZK was still on my childhood, I was talking with my dad about the idea of grown kids wiping their parents’ butts as the parents grew too old to do it themselves. I asked him if he expected us to wipe his butt one day. He, quite seriously, said he absolutely did not expect it. I was surprised. He said he expected us to hire someone else to do it. I was even more shocked. You wouldn’t want your own family to care for you? And his answer was a firm, confident, and clear, ‘No.’
I didn’t understand it back then, not really. He had said something about hatred or resentment, but it didn’t make sense to me. After seeing the struggle with someone in my own family lately, and now having to deal with it firsthand myself, I understand what my dad had meant. He didn’t want us to resent him int he final years of his life. He wanted us to be able to love him and be happy with him in those years. Yes, it is very loving to care physically for someone, but it isn’t always happy or easy doing that. There can be a massive buildup of very negative memories in that relationship right at the very end of the old person’s life, leaving the younger person grateful of the death and, necessarily, then feeling horrible for being relieved and glad for it.
It is hard dealing with an old, sick person. Getting almost no sleep in order to help with constant bathroom wake-ups throughout the night, cleaning up bodily filth that ended up all over clothes and the floor and almost none in the toilet, forcing down medicines or vitamins or healthy foods or water just to help heal an illness or relieve the pains, changing a diaper on a fully grown person who resists it, despite having just walked around half-naked in public and not knowing it… that and so much more is very hard to handle. What’s harder is handling it all and not, in some way, resenting the person for whom one is doing it all. It’s so hard not to take it personally, especially when that person yells at you for who knows what…
So, I get it. I wouldn’t want my kids to have their final memories of and with me be ones of near-constant frustration and anger and heartbreak. Having and unrelated person come in to take care of the old person goes much further than one might think, for all members of the family. I never would have thought that before doing it myself, seeing it happen myself, twice now. And I am all the more grateful for the people in this world who do choose to take up that role in society. Those caretakers make more than a little difference. They don’t just do the grunt work or the dirty work of the situation. They can truly heal the situation. They completely transform what likely would have happened without them, and all the relationships involved for the better.
Thank you, all you who take care of the old people for their families. You help more than you could know.
Thank you, God, for these people.
Post-a-day 2023
hannah ananas 