The Other Legs of the Stool

When you are helping someone with the hospice process it is hard work. But it is even more difficult if the person in hospice is close to you. If I did not have my two brothers and one sister, this job would take an even greater toll on my physical and mental health. It is the breaks that they give me and the ability to talk to someone else who has a vested interest in the outcome of this process that are my fresh air.

They are each pretty different in their approach to this challenge. The brother closest in age to me is probably the most conservative in his approach. He talks about it very little and only in the most practical and business-like terms. He isn't big on hands-on care and prefers to talk mom to the bathroom or the dinner table from across the room. He tends to approach her as if she is a stroke victim and just needs verbal reminders as a form of therapy. Since his retirement he is big on cooking and regularly brings lots of food for us. His wife is from Europe and a very nurturing person. She views my mother as her mother in some ways since she has lost both of her parents and does not have immediate relatives her or in Europe except for her two sons from a prior marriage. It would be so easy to put more of this burden on her, but I am trying very hard to avoid that. She has been a good balance for my brother who might have turned into a stuffy old professor type without her enthusiasm and daring. She has gotten on my other siblings nerves because she gets involved and forces us to make firm decisions and move forward. She is also manipulative in a sweet way and that makes my sister angry.

My 'baby' brother is also more hands-off (the nature of most males) but his upbeat personality and joking nature are a real upper for my mother. He is the one who immediately repairs something around the house or outside if you mention it as a problem. He has a small construction company and works about 7.5 days a week. Both here at the farm and now more frequently on a duplex rental unit he has purchased as security for his retirement. Yesterday he came to move the outside mailbox which now sits behind a semi-permanent puddle of ice on the north side of a tall fence. Now it is closer to the driveway gate so my Dad doesn't ice skate to pick up the mail.

My younger sister is very hands-on and also continually buying things for them. She and her husband are attorneys with only one grown step-son, so money is readily available to them. Still, I know people who have money and are not generous at all. (The husband of my late sister comes to mind.) My sister had taken Mom through her first battle with cancer and so she has dealt with the ugliness of this process. I truly think that we have given Mom her dignity by being as practical and nonchalant as possible with her accidents. She bemoans her weakness but not in any long term way that brings us down.

We are all getting together for dinner this coming Thursday (6th) and talk about making permanent plans in moving my parents when I leave and head back home on the 21st. This meeting was motivated by my sister-in-law...so the siblings are a little miffed.

Mom needs someone with her all the time. If she falls, Dad cannot lift her. If she doesn't get bathroom care, her hygiene falls by the wayside.

Well, enough about the sibs. I am making a spaghetti Sunday dinner which has always been a tradition with my parents. Although, I am not cooking the traditional fried chicken...just the pasta, garlic bread, green beans with garlic and a nice green salad.