Day Two of Lucky Thirteen

Wednesday, January 2, 2013 • 3:55 PM • Winthrop –– Bluff Street House

I slept too late to enjoy my quiet time this morning. By the time I’d showered, mom was ready to get up. Care-taking is work. So much so, that much earlier than 4:00 PM I was feeling my scant amount of patience running out like sands in an hour-glass. My solution was to stop over-protecting and start allowing more self-determination. I think it surprised both of us. She is capable of getting up and down, walking around (with walker) and (eventually) amusing herself with some television. I am capable of keeping an eye on her as she gets up and down (without hovering), letting her walk around (without following her) and amusing myself with various computer generated tasks and entertainment.

The puzzling thing is what happens to us as we age. What turns us from the person we were (or seemed to be) into someone else, less caring, polite, loving and kind? Or in the case of Mother, from an independent but caring person into someone self-indulgent and rather thoughtless? 

It frightens me. In the middle of the night, when I hear the old house creaking from the cold, I hold my breath and lie very still, afraid it will be Mother, waking up, banging on the bed-railing, and calling out my name. The fear goes beyond not wanting to get up and attend to her needs. It is a more like a bone-chilling, desperate type of fright of the unknown and nearly inevitable. Aging. I say “nearly inevitable” because I know from experience that sometimes the very good die young, and even the not so very good. 

The changes in Mother make me fear potential changes in myself as I age. No one will ensure my care in later years, the way we have tried to ensure her care. I long to retreat to Mazatlán or places nearby, to end my days there. Let me lie on warm sand under a palapa while the Pacific surf rolls up. I hope I leave this earth a kindly woman, (tanned, what the heck) with my mind and heart on others.