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I was out for dinner with a friend the week before last, and we were talking about our aging mothers. I was telling her that my mother was handling her increasing years in the best way possible: she had built an extensive social network, she was exercising regularly (water aerobics, strength training, chair yoga), she had downsized her living situation thoughtfully and was in a great community in a lovely apartment, perfectly sized for her needs. She was using a walker to get around and was still pretty spry, as well as cautious and careful--she could go outside her building and walk all the way around it to sit in the garden. For a woman who was ninety-six years old, she was doing extraordinarily well.
This is a picture from her 96th birthday celebration, a little over a month ago:
A couple of days after that conversation with my friend, I got a call from one of my sisters: Mom had fainted in an elevator at her senior community (fortunately, she had friends around her at the time and so got help immediately). We knew that mom was always careful to be holding onto something when she walked anywhere, but I, at least, never considered the danger that a faint could cause. She had cracked three vertebrae in the back and was now at the hospital.
My siblings and I were immediately plunged into a daunting caregiver situation. My mother has been very independent, but now, with the huge back brace she had to wear, she was, at least for the moment, unable to walk or care for herself. Healing, we were told, could take 6-12 weeks. And this is an enormous insult for a 96-year-old body to absorb.
All of our lives were about to change in drastic ways.
As I thought about the design of this collage, I kept wavering between the titles of 'Independent' and 'Dependent.' Mom has been very independent for a woman her age but that wasn't true anymore, really, was it?
And yet 'dependent' didn't seem quite right, either. It is almost as if my mind shies away from the term, as if it were impossible to see her that way. We don't truly know what her prognosis will be. Mom certainly isn't helpless. Moreover, she has a horror of being what she perceives as a 'bother' to people.
More than that, I thought about how she cared for my two sisters and my brother and I when we were babies and children, and now we were turning full circle and we were caring for her. Doing so feels so right. When she frets over what she is putting us through, we all tell her honestly and lovingly, that we are glad to help her. We are honored to do so. How could we do any less for her than what she has done for us?
I was also struck by the sight that met me when I visited my mom in the hospital. Here was a woman who was lying flat on her back with a broken spine--and yet she had the head of her bed cranked up so that she could continue knitting a prayer shawl for somebody else. How could someone who would do that, who could care so much for the needs of others, be seen as merely dependent?
The proper title of this collage, I finally realized, was Interdependent. Facing this crisis, my siblings and I immediately formed a cohesive team--fortunately, we all get along extremely well, and we trust each other. We are interacting with the various staff members of the transitional care unit where she has been transferred (the facility where she is now is great). Again, that is interdependence.
So: we are starting on a new journey together, my siblings, my mom, and I. I don't know where it will take us. But we feel proud and honored to accompany her, every step of the way.
When I took the central picture that was the start of this collage, I was struck by how my mother's back reminded me of the back of her beloved cello. She played it for over eighty years. It was a symbol of her creativity, her joy of music, her development as a fully-rounded person. Now she cannot see it well enough to play it, and as she became more frail, it became more difficult for her to lift. One of our tasks is to follow up with the person who is repairing the cello and offering it for consignment sale. We hope that another fine musician will buy Mom's instrument, and the cello will give that new owner the joy that it gave Mom.
Here is Mom's CaringBridge (you do need a CaringBridge login and password to access it).
Image description: an older woman wearing a hospital gown and a large surgical back brace sits with her back to the camera. Facing her, two nurses bend forward to assist her, adjusting the front of the brace. Lower center: a pair of hands knit a prayer shawl. Upper center: the back of a cello. The shape of the cello back echoes the shape of the woman's back. Background, behind all of the figures: an energy field with sparks
Interdependence
Click on the links to see the 2024, 2023, 2022 and 2021 52 Card Project galleries.
This is a picture from her 96th birthday celebration, a little over a month ago:
A couple of days after that conversation with my friend, I got a call from one of my sisters: Mom had fainted in an elevator at her senior community (fortunately, she had friends around her at the time and so got help immediately). We knew that mom was always careful to be holding onto something when she walked anywhere, but I, at least, never considered the danger that a faint could cause. She had cracked three vertebrae in the back and was now at the hospital.
My siblings and I were immediately plunged into a daunting caregiver situation. My mother has been very independent, but now, with the huge back brace she had to wear, she was, at least for the moment, unable to walk or care for herself. Healing, we were told, could take 6-12 weeks. And this is an enormous insult for a 96-year-old body to absorb.
All of our lives were about to change in drastic ways.
As I thought about the design of this collage, I kept wavering between the titles of 'Independent' and 'Dependent.' Mom has been very independent for a woman her age but that wasn't true anymore, really, was it?
And yet 'dependent' didn't seem quite right, either. It is almost as if my mind shies away from the term, as if it were impossible to see her that way. We don't truly know what her prognosis will be. Mom certainly isn't helpless. Moreover, she has a horror of being what she perceives as a 'bother' to people.
More than that, I thought about how she cared for my two sisters and my brother and I when we were babies and children, and now we were turning full circle and we were caring for her. Doing so feels so right. When she frets over what she is putting us through, we all tell her honestly and lovingly, that we are glad to help her. We are honored to do so. How could we do any less for her than what she has done for us?
I was also struck by the sight that met me when I visited my mom in the hospital. Here was a woman who was lying flat on her back with a broken spine--and yet she had the head of her bed cranked up so that she could continue knitting a prayer shawl for somebody else. How could someone who would do that, who could care so much for the needs of others, be seen as merely dependent?
The proper title of this collage, I finally realized, was Interdependent. Facing this crisis, my siblings and I immediately formed a cohesive team--fortunately, we all get along extremely well, and we trust each other. We are interacting with the various staff members of the transitional care unit where she has been transferred (the facility where she is now is great). Again, that is interdependence.
So: we are starting on a new journey together, my siblings, my mom, and I. I don't know where it will take us. But we feel proud and honored to accompany her, every step of the way.
When I took the central picture that was the start of this collage, I was struck by how my mother's back reminded me of the back of her beloved cello. She played it for over eighty years. It was a symbol of her creativity, her joy of music, her development as a fully-rounded person. Now she cannot see it well enough to play it, and as she became more frail, it became more difficult for her to lift. One of our tasks is to follow up with the person who is repairing the cello and offering it for consignment sale. We hope that another fine musician will buy Mom's instrument, and the cello will give that new owner the joy that it gave Mom.
Here is Mom's CaringBridge (you do need a CaringBridge login and password to access it).
Image description: an older woman wearing a hospital gown and a large surgical back brace sits with her back to the camera. Facing her, two nurses bend forward to assist her, adjusting the front of the brace. Lower center: a pair of hands knit a prayer shawl. Upper center: the back of a cello. The shape of the cello back echoes the shape of the woman's back. Background, behind all of the figures: an energy field with sparks
Click on the links to see the 2024, 2023, 2022 and 2021 52 Card Project galleries.