Realising your parents are getting old.

by JO ABI

Nothing pulls the rug out from under you more than when your parents start getting old and sick. What begins is a battle of wills, of me trying to care for them without them realising what I am doing and of them denying that they are sick at all.

“I’m fine, now, how about some coffee.” And the whole time I am with them I am trying to hide my fear. I’m trying to swallow my dread. Because it happens to all of us. It’s unavoidable. It’s part of the circle of life and it’s cruel. It’s so cruel.

Aging and sick parents often don’t want to admit they need our help. It becomes a game of turning up to visit, popping up to the shops to buy medicine because you were going shopping anyway and begging your parents to contact you if they get sick.

The only time my dad has ever actually enthusiastically let me care for him is when his prostate became so enlarged he couldn’t use the bathroom. He was so sick and desperate for relief he called me and asked me for help. I got him to hospital, took him to the doctor and cared for him as much as he needed. Every other time I’ve tried to help him he’s become upset and teary, saying things like, “I don’t want you to see me like this” or “I should be the one looking after you”. He’s begged my mum not to ring me and my siblings and I have demanded that she does.

Doesn’t he know we love him? Doesn’t he realise that it’s our pleasure? Doesn’t he understand that after creating us and raising us that it is our turn to look after him and we want to do it?

The first time my dad became sick was when I was little. To this day it remains my most terrifying childhood memory. It was the day I realised my dad wasn’t a superhero. He wasn’t invincible. He was human could get sick and injured just like the rest of us.

Since that day I have always worried about him. I know the signs now when he isn’t feeling well. I check on him constantly. It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and when he does get sick I’m horrified, terrified but not surprised. I know the inevitable. It taunts me.

How do you function when the person who made you who you are is no longer there?

My friend’s dad is sick and she said to me, “He’s everything to me. I won’t even function when he’s not here. I’ll just disappear.”

My husband said after my dad’s most recent hospital visit, “I dread when your dad dies. You’ll be a mess.” My response to this was to rant and rave about how he should never ever say such things. My dad isn’t that old. He’s seventy-six. He has a good twenty years in him. Don’t ever say something so horrible again…hysterical much?

Being a parent and caring for parents feels like being stuck between two worlds and just as caring for my children is a pleasure, caring for my parents is an honour. If they’d bloody let me.

Jo Abi is the author of the book How to Date a Dad: a dating guide released by Hachette Livre Australia.  You can read more about her many and various exploits here.

Have you ever had to care for an older relative? Are you nervous about your parents’ aging?