That’s exactly how I’ve been feeling lately.
As with Alice in Wonderland, this summer I fell down the rabbit hole and ended up in a parallel universe.
It’s still my life, or is it?
It all began innocently enough, back in that London hotel room on Easter afternoon. I can still visualize myself resting on the bed after a full day of sightseeing and a celebratory pub lunch. A casual look at Facebook, taking in the message from my sister-in-law that my father had had an emergency appendectomy and was doing fine.
Except that eventually he wasn’t. First they found gall stones, testing led to the discovery of a tumor, another surgery with heart complications, then the diagnosis of cancer.
Let’s not forget the pulmonary embolism which was detected weeks later during testing to ensure his heart could withstand the pending six to eight-hour surgery to deal with the cancer.
Overlaying my father’s medical drama was the awareness of the continually creeping memory problems, forgetfulness, lack of focus, reduced concentration and mobility affecting both parents. It’s not as if my mother doesn’t have her own health issues which require monitoring as well.
There was no denying it: we were all coming face to face with the tough issues associated with aging.
Not those experienced early on in the process: the need for reading glasses to peruse a menu, not quite catching all of a conversation, aches and pains as our bodies remind us that we aren’t teenagers anymore.
I’m talking about the more difficult challenges associated with being elderly, however that state is characterized in one’s culture.
My parents are 81 and 79. Just as we’ve seen with Husband’s parents, somewhere along the line they passed the threshold from an active, vibrant retirement into something far more sedate and limiting.
That is not to say that life isn’t still enjoyable and enriching, because it is. They have a relatively active social life in their retirement community, with plenty of treasured friends and neighbors keeping track of each other and appreciating each other’s company.
They can still get around fairly well and care for themselves, but the cracks in the armor are clearly beginning to show.
Arriving in the US for the first time in two years, we headed directly to my parents home near the west coast of Florida. My father had lost weight (who wouldn’t, after a month in the hospital?) but his color was good and he was regaining strength, walking up to a half mile most days.
Surgery loomed over us, but one that promised to nip it all in the bud. Buy time, hopefully years. He and my mother were upbeat, choosing to focus on the positive rather than go down that other path.
Leaving them to head north and check out some candidates in Daughter’s university search, it actually felt good strolling those campuses in the summer heat, listening to cheerful coeds and earnest administrators regale us with the impressive merits and virtues of the various schools.
Taking in the mesmerizing information and corresponding visual imprint at each campus, it was easy to slip back into a life that feels full of options, choices and endless possibilities.
Inhaling the intoxicating perfume of youth does that, doesn’t it?
We were slowly making our way back south in the middle part of our trip when the call came. Another ‘where were you when…?’ moment.
The cancer, aided and abetted by the time-consuming pulmonary embolism, had spread rapidly. There was nothing the doctors could do.
Talk about a game changer. Out went the old plans and in came the new.
Reeling from the shock, flights were changed and itineraries adjusted as we all clamored for time spent with my parents. Husband and Son would accelerate their arrival.
Emphasis was on helping my parents through this new turn of events, and sharing that most precious of commodities: more time with my father.
Prior to returning to my parents’ home for what would now be an extended period of weeks rather than days, Daughter and I paid a visit to Husband’s mother in a different part of Florida.
Suffering from dementia, albeit a kindly form, this petite 86 year old resides in a well regarded facility of wonderful caretakers who ensure she doesn’t wander away. There is much she has forgotten, yet it is a blessing that she recognizes her family. She also believes all of her relatives and friends – a lifetime’s worth – are alive and nearby.
Her mother? Meeting her for lunch later at their favorite bistro. Her husband? Away on a business trip, returning next week. Her closest friend, the one who attended Husband’s and my wedding? She’ll be seeing her the next day.
Except she won’t, as they are deceased. And so it is another blessing that she doesn’t recall that, or get angry or confused when time passes and they do not show. Because she’s forgotten, and is already looking forward to new things. She can’t be disappointed about things she doesn’t remember.
She retains much of her former personality so is easy to converse with, often recalling past events if you jog her memory. She generally spends her days in a pleasant mood, enjoying the people surrounding her, always surprised by and delighted with the actual visits of family members.
When Husband visited her a couple weeks later, amazingly she still recalled Daughter’s and my visit, telling him all about his own daughter as if he is unfamiliar with her.
We are fortunate to still have her, grateful for the chance to spend time with her and trigger whatever connections we still can.
Would she consider herself lucky? I have no idea.
As for my father, his prognosis for time remaining is being reconsidered, but it may well only be months. In re-biopsying the tumor, it appeared to be a slower growing one than originally thought. Rather than the six months initially mentioned, perhaps it was now a year or two.
That jubilation was sadly short-lived, however, as subsequent review now shows that it is a particularly aggressive type of tumor after all. To say the news took the wind out of our sails is an understatement.
As I’ve learned in my time spent down the rabbit hole, peering through a distorted looking glass at one’s own possible future, there’s always another doctor with whom to speak, yet another appointment to attend.
More doctor’s offices, hospitals, waiting rooms. More options, however limited, to discuss and consider.
It’s more than a ‘before and after’ thing going on here, not simply splitting my world into two parts separated by the news my father was in deep trouble.
And it’s more than acknowledging that we really don’t have any time promised us, none of us, hence a reminder to truly live life to the fullest each and every day.
It’s the bigger issue at play: realizing that in living in the presence of the aging of others, we face our own advancing years. Our own mortality.
This is now my life, isn’t it?
[Image credit: Podpad, portfolio 3419, freedigitalphotos.net]
I can’t imagine how you must be feeling after having your hopes so cruelly tested over the last few months, but I’m heartened that you are hanging onto your perspective for all you are worth.
It’s easy in times like these for our emotions to mutiny and steer a course for negative, destructive waters. Concentrating on “one day at a time” and making the most of the present is the only way stay on top of those emotions, and allow you to get the most out of what you have.
Although we never really think of it this way, Life itself is full of culture-shocks as we transition from one stage to the next. Now is the time for you to put into practice your ample knowledge of emotional resilience – you’ve been equipping yourself for this task for some time…
Love, prayers and strength to you and your family xxx
You’re so right Aisha, and thank you very much. One of the things I loved about Tina Quick’s book (Global Nomad’s Guide to University Transition) is that Barbara Schaetti makes the point in the afterword that the book is really about handling transitions throughout life, focusing on the special challenges/opportunities of TCKs. I really am employing a range of things to remain as present, mindful and emotionally balanced as possible under the circumstances. Appreciate your support
Linda, I feel for you, as I am also at that same stage of life. My father-in-law passed away 2 years ago, an ocean away. My mother-in-law, now 86, gets frailer each summer she visits us. Our daily phone calls are all about the medical conditions of her siblings and friends. Living so far away has always caused us pangs of guilt, but now we feel it acutely. It seems so callous to weigh the cost of a visit, the price of the ticket, the vacation days it will consume. And yet we want to spend as much time with them as we can because we know that’s all we can offer and time is limited. Hang in there.
Thank you Judy, it is something so many of us (expat/repat or not) must deal with. I keep reminding myself that we are so fortunate to have this time – others lose their parents far earlier in life. And when you’re there with them and just being together, it’s worth whatever it takes. We do what we can.
Hi Linda. I also feel for you as this surely is one of the hardest challenges of being an expat. There is inevitable guilt at being so far away when your close family members are back home aging and you wish so much that you could be there for them to help them with the difficulties of aging. It is great though you can be there for an extended trip to spend time with your father and mother, and still involve them in your own family’s life. I do so also relate to what Judy has said above having gone through this ourselves in the last two years. My father has just passed away this week while we are on home leave so I was fortunate enough to spend some time with him in this last period, after doing emergency trips twice before from US to Australia. Every minute does count and your parents will be more appreciative than you will probably ever know. You have a great attitude and this will help you in the months to come ahead. Stay strong and take care.
I am so sorry to hear of your father’s passing. My heart goes out to you and your family, such a difficult loss. I agree that every moment together is precious, I’m so glad you were fortunate enough to be there this past week (and the other emergency trips as well). Please know that I’ve got you in my thoughts and prayers. So many people are going through this, it really does help to be in touch with great folks such as yourself who share their stories and offer suggestions. Thank you and take care.
As transitions go, watching your parents age is one of the toughest. Knowing it’s all inevitable doesn’t make it easier to bear. I wish you didn’t have to go through this, but it’s comforting to know you’re blessed with lots of support, from your family right on down to the people in this community who have never met you but are pulling for you just the same.
It IS comforting Maria, and I truly appreciate it, thank you. I keep reminding myself that if we’re fortunate, we do get to the time when our parents will age considerably and health issues start to take over. My father would tell you he’s lived a good, long life. He has faith. No one wants the end to come, but I do take some comfort in those two things.
Hi Linda,
Wow… my heart goes out to you and your family. What an emotional sling shot! One minute trying to be excited for your daughter as she plans for her next phase in life, while simultaneously being faced with your mom and dad’s aging and your dad’s illness. I was home last summer when my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I’ll never forget the feeling as I sat with her hearing those words from the doctor. It was a rare occasion that I was able to give my sister a break. While I gallivant around the globe, she is the one who still lives in the same town and helps mom (who still lives by herself quite capably so at 87 after being widowed at a young age). My sister goes with her to most appointments, which up until that point, were pretty minor. I also extended my stay an extra month waiting for her surgery to be scheduled. I cherish every second I spend with her now, whether in person or by phone. She came through the surgery well (so far the cancer hasn’t spread beyond the primary site).
So… I pray for you to keep up your strength and for your dad (and the rest of your family too). Enjoy your time together doing things you all love to do. I can picture you on the west coast of Florida (I lived in Florida for 14 years as you may remember), taking walks in the sunshine, chowing down on the early bird dinners, maybe listening to a little jazz in the park, and giving your dad lots of love and attention.
Warm thoughts and prayers,
Anne
As your and others’ comments indicate, this is not unique, but rather something many people grapple with as they and their parents age. I’m sorry that your mother has been dealing with her own cancer experience, and am sure that your being there is something she appreciates and thinks back on often. Same for you, too. It’s a community of sorts that none of us wishes to be part of, yet we do our best. Thanks Anne.
Linda, I’m sorry. This has to be one of the hardest challenges of expat life, and the time when the distance really hits home. I certainly haven’t figured out how to make it any easier; I know that every visits we make to my husband’s mother is loaded with guilt, apprehension, and a sense of urgency – all of which interfere with the real purpose of the visit, spending time with someone we love. We’re thinking of you.
Thank you Rachel. I can relate to that emotional mix, when as you said, we really just want to spend time and connect with those we love. It is what it is, life in all its messy contradictions.
After living just a mere 7 years away from the close proximity of my family, guilt has crept in and I am now back “home” with my family. Never mind, I feel like an alien in the country I spent 9 years of my developmental years and having reverse culture shock. I have moved back in with my parents and I’m ever so grateful for their support and I supporting them as well as mentoring my baby sister who just entered high school (eek!).
What an interesting set of circumstances in which you live, Alaine. Repatriating to a place you no longer know well and the subsequent culture shock are more than a handful with which to deal, not to mention the family dynamics as an adult daughter/sister returning ‘home’. It’s wonderful that you have a unique opportunity to strengthen the familial bonds as you collectively help each other.
What a wonderful written article. The expat concerns of this older generation is hitting many of us very hard. We are lucky to be blessed with one grandparent on each side of the family so my husband and I share the common concerns of ‘how they are doing’ and ‘what can we do to help’.
One day when my mom’s situation caused me to sit in the car and cry my daughter came out and told me that she hopes I “get to have old age like grandma”. I knew exactly what she meant. We have several friends who are dealing with death in their generation and not in their older parents generation.
We must indeed enjoy each and every moment we have with both the older generation as well as our younger generation. Time is precious.
Well said, Julia, and thank you. It’s difficult when we’re not living physically close to our families, especially when you’re on the other side of the world as you are. How incredibly sweet (and perceptive!) of your daughter to understand the tradeoffs that come with aging and extended time on this earth. No day is promised us, and so we do our best to be fully present and fill our lives with the simple moments that bind us and become memories.
Thinking of you and your family.
Love.
Thank you Karin, it is much appreciated. We focus on the good days, the good moments, and keep on.
Linda, I agree with Aisha about your efforts to maintain perspective. It’s a vulnerable time, yet you’re outlook reminds us all that we do have choices in regards to how to respond and cope in times like these.
My father was diagnosed with cancer at age 59, just six months after we moved abroad. Those first few years abroad were challenging and while I would have changed the diagnosis in a heartbeat, I would not take back all that I feel I learned and realized on that journey.
Wishing you strength and peace.
What a great perspective, Heather – it really is a journey, isn’t it? It had to have been so difficult, not only being so far away but also with your father having been on the younger side. ‘I would not take back all that I feel I learned and realized on that journey.’ Those words really resonate. Thank you
Life’s twists and turns can be incredibly cruel, slapping us about the face ‘til we’re drunk from the punches. Liam’s mother has also disappeared into the white haze of dementia. This is the main reason we returned home. Your amazing fortitude is a reflection of your strength of character and your unbreakable family ties. Life, death, life is all there before us in glorious Technicolor but sometimes the vivid colours hurt the eyes.
Thanks Jack, I’ve been thinking of you and Liam, and following how you’re settling in after repatriating back to the UK. I know you’ve been dealing with your own loved ones’ situations, As the comments, emails, tweets and messages I receive attest, so many of us struggle with these sorts of developments; they certainly keep members of the expat/global nomad/serial wanderer community up at night.
You really have had a tough summer! Something like this does make us stop and think about our own mortality and how fragile it is.
{{hugs}} from afar
Ah you don’t know the half of it, Carole, and I greatly appreciate your cyber hugs. There have been many wonderful moments and positive things, too. It’s really been an ongoing lesson in accepting the full range of life, and that includes aging, illness and eventually dying.
Linda I’m so sorry about the agonies you are going throw – no matter we know these things will eventually occur to our parents there is no good preparation for when it actually does. My thoughts are with you and your family.
Thank you Apple, I was most disappointed to miss meeting you after all. So close, and yet not quite there. As you yourself have written about quite eloquently, there are many issues that pop up to challenge us.
Linda, thanks so much for sharing this very personal part of your life. Supporting aging parents and facing illness of a family member when you live so far away are two of the most difficult aspects of living overseas (both emotionally and practically). It’s hard and sometimes frustrating to see parents age and become less able so thank you also for a reminder that we should appreciate the time we have with them. I’m thinking of you and your family and I wish you strength as you support your parents and your husband’s mother.
Thanks so much Evelyn, I appreciate your kind words. I just finished Skyping with my parents and they both are doing pretty well. So glad technology allows us that level of connectivity, it really helps.
Thoughts are with you, Linda. I hope better news follows bad and that the rest of the year plays out with more positivity for you. If nothing else, I’m pleased for you that you got to spend some decent time over in the US with your family this year. That must be some small comfort.
Thanks Russell, it is comforting to have spent quality time with them. Lots of memories to carry forward. Waiting for more news later this week.
Although I don’t know you Linda, my thoughts are with you at this difficult and testing time. Thank you for writing such an eloquent and thoughtful post which I’m sure will go on appealing to many other expats in the same situation. I send you strength across the airwaves and best wishes for the time you have left with your father. I live in Australia now, and my dear Mum lives in England, and I dread the thought of her becoming ill or incapable – not just because of my inescapable guilt about living so far away, but also because of the logistics of being able to be of any real, sustained help. As expats we are often given the chance to live relatively charmed lives and I suppose this time of life, the sandwich years, is the downside to the privileges.
Beautifully said Johanna. We do what we can, the best way we are able. Just like everyone else. I don’t suppose it ever feels ‘enough’. We’re focusing on saying what needs to be said and sharing love. Thank you for your kind words, and may you enjoy your mother’s presence for years to come.
Linda – as usual you put into words so eloquently what so many dare I say, middle aged expats :)) must feel and be faced with. I’m sorry to hear that your summer break was turned on its head, but I can’t help thinking how your parents must have appreciated the fact that you were able to be there and able to support them.
Old age is tough – for all concerned, as our parents face their declining mobility and health we are forced to face the fact that nothing is forever – as much as we would so like it to be. How do we help from afar – is such a tough question. My mother has Parkinsons and I know that for us this is going to be a growing issue. She is 73 but her mobility is suddenly declining, she is recognising that her ability to do all that she has always done is changing – I am struggling to accept this change from an emotional perspective but know I must from a rational support perspective.
Linda – this blog has shown me how important it is to face these issues head on – to think about our reactions and emotions to these changes. Ageing is a life transition, it takes time to adapt then acceptance is my goal, not there yet but hopefully I will work my way to it soon – Thanks and I truly appreciate your sharing such a personal story.
Oh Louise, I’m so sorry. Parkinson’s must be such an emotional as well as physical challenge for your mother, you and your family. Aging is something we all must face (beats the alternative), in superficial and meaningful ways alike. I’m a firm believer that you learn to accept the inevitable on your own timeframe; for some it’s a shocking realization, for others it’s quick glimpses and turning away and then back again until it starts to feel as though you can begin to accept it. Whatever works. Perhaps for me it’s writing about these things, I’ve got to unpack them in my mind before I can find the words. We adapt and then hopefully ease into a sense of acceptance and ultimately grace. I’ll be keeping you all in my thoughts and prayers. Thank you so much for your lovely words. After all, we’re all in this together, as human beings on this planet at this point in time, aren’t we?