Becoming the child...

When a parent begins to lose perspective, memory--both long- and short-term, and logic, the frustration level involved in this excruciating experience exceeds that parent's grasp. The child then becomes the parent as the parent regresses, permanently, into a second childhood that will last until the final bell rings. There is no choice, no "what do you think", "do you want to tackle this" offered beforehand to the child who is called to step in as surrogate parent. This switching of roles doesn't happen quickly, unexpectedly. It is gradual and the signs are there, they are always there. We may just miss them, ignore them, deny them, but they are there and they march forward in time--one or two at a time and then in multiples. They become more pronounced over time and the choice for the child-soon-to-be-parent is to run screaming from the room or to accept the role as gracefully as possible. The options are limited. The requirements are limiting.

The hardest part of taking on this parental role is that all the techniques that worked for your own children--time outs, removal of privileges, sending a child to his or her room, isolation from the family until manners/courtesy or other civilities were re-instated by the child, reminders about what is and isn't appropriate--do not work. Memory is slippery in your "child" and what is requested, asked, demanded in one moment may not make it into the next. Almost everything is new and repetition is the order of the day. Patience is a virtue that must be cultivated and as the new "parent" you must let go of all the old memories of how you or other family members were treated by this parent, all the pronouncements must be forgiven, all the demands that were once required for living are no longer. The parent will slowly take off the clothing of the mature adult and will replace it with the emotional and mental pinafores or knickers, Mary Jane shoes or sandals befitting a young child.

Nothing you read or observe or hear about from friends, family, on TV, in the movies, orfrom the sagest professionals can prepare you for being placed in this position. It is difficult to imagine and more difficult to accept as reality. A person who was once vital and intelligent and with whom you have held countless conversations (and arguments) will disappear before your very eyes. And it isn't magic, because magic has a mystical, spell-binding, entertainment quality, and having a parent trade roles with you has none of that. You think you will "get used to it" over time, but you never truly do. It is always puzzling. It is always disconcerting. It is always a skewed view of the world as you knew it. And when a parent cum child has a lucid period, the inevitable regression becomes more difficult to accept when it returns...and it always returns. Dementia and Alzheimer's are heavy sounding medical terms and what they describe is a heavy burden for both the parent slipping away and for the child who watches, unable to stop the process and feeling guilty for sometimes wishing it would speed up when the heaviness of carrying this burden becomes its own burden--one that seems to put its full weight on your heart and soul.

Parents give us life. Most of them do their best to teach us how to live good lives and be productive citizens of our communities and families. When they reach the no-turning-back phase of their lives, it is our turn to give them as much life as we possibly can and to teach them (and our own children) how to live as good a life as possible within the limitations of their new "community"--the ever-diminishing world of the elderly. We must keep the good memories as close as possible to offset the sad ones and the new, fleeting ones should be held as delicate treasures--knowing that they are rare and will soon disappear altogether. We must live for the brief moments, because we know that it is in these moments that we will find the true meaning of a life.