We’re All Getting Older
Growing up, I saw my mother as amazingly strong. She was always on the go, and she taught me that a woman could be a real powerhouse and really make an impact. She ran marathons, raised kids, did the housework, cooked the meals, went to the parent-teacher meetings, ran for office, served in a state legislature, ran companies, and throughout it, was still my mom. I even saw her work through being sick.
This was how she lived her life well into my adulthood. After she retired, she spent time in the gym, kept up a client base (she did not go into retirement like a lamb!), and took up golf and painting. Maybe she was slowing down a bit in some ways, but she still ran circles around everyone else her age that I knew.
Then she caught COVID-19. It was early in the pandemic, and it hit her hard, but she made it through alright without hospitalization. She didn’t bounce back to her energetic self, though. We all wondered if she had Long Covid since she started having more trouble swallowing. It was the first time I realized that my mother, a human being like the rest of us, would at some point become less vigorous, less healthy, and less physically capable. It was scary. I didn’t let on, of course, but rather helped as best I could as she searched for answers to her ongoing fatigue and dysphagia (troubling swallowing).
She would go from medical professional to medical professional only to be told there was nothing wrong. As a family, we knew that someone had to have an answer. When the answer came, and she told me she had IBM, I thought she got a new computer or something. Then I learned what IBM is, and my brain went into overdrive. Would this happen to me? How was I supposed to handle the situation? In some ways, I put the hardest questions out of my mind and just tried to live day to day, going to work, talking to mom several times a week, trying to stay above the fray.
I don't think I realized how things had changed until the day my sister called me to tell me my mother was in the hospital. “Mom is in the hospital - don’t worry, she’s fine.” Mom had tried to say something to Dad earlier in the day, and only nonsense came out of her mouth. Apparently, she’d had a mini-stroke. I was at work when the call came in, so I could not panic outright, even though that’s what I wanted to do. I had to lean on my logical mind: hold it together; it’s going to be fine. Meanwhile, my child’s mind wanted to crawl under the desk and make a blanket fort to cry in.
I am still not totally clear on how IBM works. I’m not sure the doctors are either. But I am seeing it take the strength that once defined my mother to me and make her age for me in a way that she hadn’t before, even though, obviously, the years had gone by for both of us. Our roles have started to change in response, with me taking care of her in new ways, doing things for her that she once did for me. I don't know what to do with my feelings about the situation. It can be hard as a family member to be supportive when you’re scared half to death. But I know I have to move forward and accept the situation. Maybe sharing my thoughts here can be how I begin.
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
This blog post is based on personal experiences and is not meant to provide medical advice.
Always consult your healthcare professional for personalized guidance on your health journey.