My mother-in-law, Betty, is one of the strongest, most independent, and stubborn women you would want to meet. We love each other deeply. After I married her son thirty-five years ago she made only one comment, "I always thought you would find your God and your bride in the choir loft of the Presbyterian Church," to her son before thoroughly embracing me as her daughter. Not as her daughter-in-law, but as her daughter. She and Donald taught me so much about parenting and also being a mother-in-law. And when we went to her several years ago and told her the marriage was over she told me that I would always be her daughter and that my name remained on the deed to her property. It is through her generosity, and that of my ex and his brother and sister-in-law that I have my little condo.
Friday, she fell on the ice outside her house and broke her ankle. Somehow, this 85 year old wonder crawled across the snow and ice, up her stairs and back into the house to call for help. Living on property set back from the road, the only alternative was to die of hypothermia. Pretty scary indeed. Right now she is hospitalized in Duluth receiving good care. After the hospital comes the challenge.
How do you tell someone that their home has become too dangerous for them to live in? How do you tell someone who is fiercely independent that she will have to depend on others for a change? I went through this six years ago with my own parents, who were older and much more frail. It was a hard, wrenching move for them, especially my father, who never got to go home from the rehab/nursing home before being moved to Minnesota. I was lucky to have a place pre-planned for them. The year before I told them the line my cousin used to get her parents to move closer to her. "You are killing me. I can't do the commute, and I stay up at night worrying about you." They asked me to hang on to the application and we were lucky enough to get an apartment when they needed it.
Cousin Harriet, who lived to be 99 was savvy. About the time she turned 90 she decided to sell her home and car. She moved into a lovely senior building and didn't look back. The woman who sold us our first home moved into a senior building because her family thought the upkeep on her little bungalow was too much. When, after several years, she hadn't died, she said if she knew she would feel this good she wouldn't have sold her house. She didn't realize that not being in the house was why she felt so well. Cousin Harriet knew that the easier life was what was keeping her alive. As my own parents get more frail they do understand that they could not live totally independently anymore, but it was a hard sell to get them to agree that it has been a good move for them.
Betty has her marbles, and she has her pride. (I do wish she would wear those hearing aids, though.) She cannot return to her house at this time without someone there until the snow is gone. It is just too dangerous and impractical. If she can understand that she does not have to give up her home forever, just until spring, the move and subsequent healing will be for her best. I would gladly have her come stay with me. I like sleeping on my couch. Other family members have better facilities and I think there will probably be some rehab involved, letting the matter of next winter rest for now.
As my generation ages we face the challenge of aging parents. The balance between treating them as the adults they are and doing what is right is quite difficult. We do not want to take away dignity and independence, nor do we want to see them die of stupidity and pride. It is a rope many of us are walking, hoping that good intentions will provide a net.
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