Knock, Knock, Knockin’

I’m sitting on the second floor of my childhood home in suburban Philadelphia, the last leg of a what was meant to be a two-week trip east to see family. My father is typing quietly in the room next door, mom is sleeping upright in a comfy chair by her bed. I got here late Friday afternoon just as she was being released from the local hospital to monitor a wound on her leg. My sister who would normally do the chauffeuring was headed out of town for the weekend, dad was in the city at a lecture unaware that the hospital was releasing mom, so it fell to me to pick her up. Good, I thought. She doesn’t give us many opportunities to help her. This would be my chance. But when I got to her room it was obvious that hospital life had worn her out. It wasn’t at all clear she was strong enough to come home, but homeward bound she was with dad and me as her nurses.

I’m guessing most of you have experienced some version of this story yourself: the ups and downs, worries and victories of caring for a parent, spouse, or child who’s weakened by age, injury, or illness. It’s a roller coaster of emotion. Sleep is inconsistent, exercise of the healthy variety is impossible as is eating properly or at familiar intervals. Everything gets turned upside down. But as physically taxing as it is, I’m grateful to have this opportunity to care for my mom and my dad. It’s a learning curve for all of us. How to give, how to receive, how to be kind and patient hour by hour. Saturday I might have said mom would stay in bed forever; this morning she has proved me wrong. I’ll stay a few more days until everything settles. It’s nice to be home, returning some of the care mom and dad have given me for over sixty-five years.

Have a good week.

Love, Bar