I’m not doing very well. I have been cataloguing my progress lately, but I thought I should describe these tough times too.
It’s Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada, and my wife Anita and I have come to Brighton, Ontario, to visit my father and my step mother. It’s hard.
My dad is 95, pale and frail these days. Last night, for instance, it was difficult for him to even go from his walker to his seat at the table. He has recurring bladder cancer, and has to have the growths removed every few months. When that happens, he ends up utterly worn out and often sick with some infection or other contracted at the hospital. Meanwhile, his wife Joan is much younger and mostly healthier, but she is nonetheless exhausted because, recently, every night has been a rough night.
Seeing a parent aging is not easy for most of us, I’m sure, but it’s especially trying for me because so much of my depression and anxiety circle around aging and loss. I see my dad and stepmom as they are these days, and I immediately think of myself and Anita. I get frightened on both fronts. I don’t want to be so dependent myself. And I don’t want Anita to have to look after me constantly. Nor do I like thinking of Anita aging. let alone dying. That one is a thought that I simply cannot live with. I mean that literally: I’d rather die, i.e., commit suicide, than have to face losing her.
To be clear, I don’t regret coming. It was important for my dad to see me. And I need to face up to my fears. But I wanted to share here how difficult it has been. (That said, I’ve done a good job of hiding my feelings from my dad so far, as I don’t want him to be worrying about me because of this visit. My depression and anxiety manifested after we left their house last night: I got into to bed at 8 pm to meditate, and I fell asleep and slept for 13 hours.)
Please send positive vibes. And also, share any advice from your own experience confronting an aging parent.