Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Sisters



I write about what I do with Dad because, well, it’s my blog. I appreciate the support and praise from those who read it, but sometimes I fear that what I write might come off the wrong way. I didn’t plan to come back to the Houston area through a divorce, but I am grateful that I am here. One of those “God works all things together for good” situations. I’m literally down the street from them and work from home. If an emergency occurs, I can be at their house before I can finish telling my boss what’s happening.

I do whatever I can to help Mom and Dad, but I feel like with the time and attention he now requires, I can’t do enough. Thinking for yourself is hard enough. Thinking for two is overwhelming. At least to me. Mom does that all the time. She also plans her entire schedule around him and his needs—meals, errands, entertainment, everything. I just try to make the situation easier on her, and my work schedule gives me time in the evenings and on weekends to do that.

I’ve learned that “whatever I can do” really does make a difference, from washing dishes after a meal to mopping up the flooded bedroom at midnight to mowing the lawn. I’ve also learned that we need all of us to make the situation work. Whatever we each can do, and I’m grateful for the ways others are able to step up.

Enter Alice

My sister also lives in the neighborhood, less than a mile away. Alice has an odd work schedule because she is a therapist. Her office hours are during the day and into the evening to accommodate the schedules of her clients. She’s been working lots of Saturdays too after changing positions. That makes it more difficult for her to help out, but she does every chance she gets.

She’s set up her appointments so she can stay with Dad when Mom and I go to the Alzheimer’s caregivers’ support group once a month. She comes straight from work, a good 30-plus minute drive. Doesn’t even change into comfy clothes. That lets us stay for the entire meeting.

When Mom was in the hospital overnight a couple of years ago, Alice was the one who could shift her work schedule to go to the hospital that afternoon. I could have made it happen, but it would have been difficult because of my projects that day. My role was picking up what Mom needed from home and heading over as soon as I finished editing. Alice, Dad and I went out for dinner. I stayed at the hospital a couple of hours, confirmed Dad’s needs and routine, and helped set up stuff at home. Alice stayed the night with Dad. That meant I didn’t have to juggle caring for my dogs and Dad.

The flooded bedroom? We didn’t call her that night, but when her handyman friend finished replacing the sheetrock and doing all the plastering, Alice did a majority of the painting. I enjoy painting and wanted to help, but my arthritis makes it difficult, and my asthma makes it dangerous. She came after work. She came on days off. My part was fixing meals, which she willingly ate. Whatever we can do—it all comes together.  

Mom and Dad’s 50th anniversary was last June 11. For weeks, Mom had planned to go to a fancy restaurant. Dad developed acute pancreatitis the week before. Plans shot. Alice said to me, “Let’s cook a meal at my house for them to celebrate.” Cooking is not her thing. She’s a good cook, just doesn’t like it. We planned the meal and found little stuff to make the night special. She got the house spic-and-span. We cooked together. The meal out would have been wonderful, probably better food than we could fix, but we had a great evening. She and I also had a fantastic time together as we assembled their memory book. She hadn’t scrapbooked before, but my artsy-crafty little sis took to it as naturally as I knew she would. Her talents made it that much better.

Above and Beyond

She helps me too. When Alice found out last summer that I had taken over mowing the lawn because Dad didn’t know how to do it anymore, she said, “I can help with that!” She came on her days off. She came after work on Saturdays. Alice did some extra rounds during my insane time of editing personal statements. In Houston’s August–September heat.

Mom mentioned that she wanted some Christmas yard decorations that didn’t light up. I saw a snowman head made from fence boards at a neighborhood house. Took a picture. Told Alice what was up and asked if she still had some boards. She did. Her same handyman friend could cut them. The day she was going to paint it, I offered to help. I wanted to be involved so it would be from both of us. She fast-talked about how she wasn’t sure when David was going to get there and that she was a fast painter and that I had stuff I needed to do. I was a little hurt even though she said, “It will still be from you,” but I didn’t argue. I really did have other stuff I needed to get done. That afternoon, she texted that the snowman was done, and she was bringing it to Mom, would stop and pick me up. When I came outside, she got the snowman out of her backseat and grinned. She had a second one in there. The little sneak had liked David’s suggestion of making one for me too, and that’s why she wouldn’t let me help. Totally surprised me, and I really did need another decoration for my yard. The bigger gift was how she took precious time that day, in the cold, to do something for me.

In It Together

We’ve always had our differences, as is expected, but we usually get along. When something is important, we always come together. She’s there for me. She finds a way to make it happen. Moving the meal to her house when we had no electricity. Loaning me her car when mine was dead. Letting my crazy dogs out when I helped my daughter change apartments.

We met with Mom a few months ago to hash out end-of-life plans and were in complete agreement over who will do what. Mom asked if there was anything of theirs that either of us wanted specifically so they could note it with the will. Alice would like a couple of items; I would too. Nothing the same. I told her that I couldn’t think of anything in the house worth fighting over, much less ending our relationship, as some do. At that point, we will be all we have and need each other more than ever. She said that if we did want the same thing, we would just share it. I said that I figured I could take her. We’ll work it out. We always do.

Love you, Alice! Thanks for being my sister!

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