My mother is a study of perseverance and devotion. There’s no denying it.
For 51 years she woke up every morning; checked to see if Annie was awake; rolled her onto her back if she was; changed her diapers at first, then Attends as she grew older; got her up and into her wheelchair and pushed her into the kitchen for breakfast. With very little deviation, weekday, weekend, for 51 years.
Mom gave Annie her medicine; fed her breakfast; fed her lunch; put her back in bed for an afternoon rest; changed her Attends; got her back up; fed her dinner; then later put her back in bed; changed her Attends; changed her pajamas; rolled her onto her stomach and tucked her in, for 51 years. Every day without fail. Through it all Dad was there helping as he could, and he generally put Annie in bed at night, but in the earlier years he worked and wasn’t there a lot. After Dad retired and was home more he shared the responsibility for feeding Annie and most of her other care as well. But caring for Annie was an exercise in devotion and perseverance at which Mom excelled.
Now Mom wakes up every morning; checks to see if Dad is awake; helps him roll onto his back if he is; gets him up and into his wheelchair; pushes him into the bathroom to help him change his Attends; and pushes him into the kitchen for breakfast. With very little deviation, weekday and weekend.
Mom gives Dad his medicine; helps him eat his breakfast; puts him back in bed for an afternoon rest; gets him back up; makes another trip into the bathroom with him; prepares, helps him eat, and sometimes feeds him dinner; another bathroom trip; and then later, puts him back in bed. Every day without fail. Mom has home health aides helping her a few hours every morning and each evening, but Mom continues to take responsibility for Dad’s care. Caring for Dad is an exercise in devotion and perseverance at which Mom excels.
As Dad becomes increasingly less responsive, Mom responds by becoming increasingly more engaged. Like in her care of Annie, Mom rises to the occasion. Sometimes I feel as if I am trying to shout through tiny chinks in a brick wall to get through to my dad, to get his attention, to have him raise his head and look at me, to strike some tiny spark of interest in his eyes. Sometimes I think of giving up. Sometimes I wonder, what is the point. But not my mom. She shouts louder. Tries harder. Never gives in.
My mother is a study of perseverance and devotion.
There is simply no denying it.