Those Curveballs Of Life
Read more articles on Family and Let Me Share With You.April 14, 2007
Posted by Karen Amato Schwartz
April 14, 2007
Posted by Karen Amato Schwartz
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Late Thursday, I received a call from at our largest hospital system, informing me that they had my 79 year old father there because he had fallen while in town. (He still goes there every morning to work out.) Anyway, he had been bounced between hospitals within the system all day after it was determined that his broken femur needed expert attention. They were calling because my father could not remember the extensive list of medications he is currently taking for his high blood pressure and diabetes.
So, 11:30 PM found me at my dad’s apartment, reading off prescription bottles to a physician, emptying garbage cans, gathering laundry, packing provisions for a hospital stay, and emptying a refrigerator.
It was surreal.
There is nothing like taking care of business of parents who are hospitalized, either suddenly or anticipated, regardless if from accident, illness or condition. It simply doesn’t matter, because when it’s a parent, response as you may know it no longer applies. After all, no matter how old one gets, the fear of being an “orphan” lingers there beneath the conscious. The motions of being the caregiver take one’s mind off the seriousness of the situation, but emotions lend an uncertainty to everything. Did you do that? Get that? Would they need this? Should I return for that? If you’ve yet to have a parent who is elderly and hospitalized, you probably can’t understand the scope of what I’m saying, but it’s believe me when I say it’s very difficult. For those of us who are only children, with no relatives in the area, it’s even worse. Although we all try to convince ourselves that an 80 year parent or grandparent can still have another 20 years, every so often we’re reminded of their infallibility.
It’s a never ending cycle (“Can I trust that blood transfusion?”) of fear and joy (“Thank goodness he’s in a regular room and not in ICU.”) My father’s neighbors care deeply for him. They were so worried when they didn’t see him for a day and a half, but did see his newspaper, that they called 911; the firemen came and broke down his front door.
It’s been crazy driving cross-town every day with bags of stuff in transit, and it’s compounded by my husband spending the week 1000 miles away, making me chief cook and chauffeur for my daughter. But we’re lucky, overall. This is my dad’s first surgery and hospitalization in 80 years. I think it’s really annoying him that he won’t be able to go to the gym for a couple of months, and when he does, it will be quite different. No, I take that back-what’s probably bothering him most of all is my finishing his taxes for him. Now that’s scary.
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