BarcALONEa (Life Finds A Way .. To Eff It All Up)

Right now, and I mean this very second, I should be snuggled up beside my husband as we wing our way to Atlanta and then onto Barcelona.

Instead, I am home alone, and he is alone, winging his way to North Carolina 

Life.

Try as you might to be the architect of yours and your plans, well, I'll let Dr. Malcolm from Jurassic Park take it from here...

"Life will not be contained. It breaks free, it expands to new territories, it crashes through barriers.  Sometimes painfully, maybe even dangerously, but ... well, there it is.  Life finds a way."

If I may be so bold, I would like to add to the last line there.  Life finds a way ... to eff it all up.

Coming off 2021, a year that was stuffed to the gills with emotion - the continuing pandemic, my sister's cancer diagnosis, dealing with emptying and selling my parents' home to get them moved into their retirement community, attending weekly chemo with my sister, watching my father be taken down by the combined forces of Parkinson's and dementia, COVID destroying for our family and my husband what should have taken its place as one of the most precious memories in his life - that of walking his eldest daughter down the aisle, my father dying, and a new job for Rudy that left me again behind playing catch up - we dared to book this trip to one of our favorite global cities while I visited him over the holidays.

From that moment, we were in countdown mode.  Excitedly planning things we wanted to do and see, where we wanted to eat, even thrilling to the fact that his beloved Barca soccer team would have a home game while we were there.  

He works every. single. day.  That is not exaggeration.  It is who he is, how he is.  Managing a resort is like being mayor of a small town and he takes it seriously.  He wants to know his guests, his golf club members.  He wants to improve, push forward, elevate the experience for his guests and for his coworkers.  Our together time is a few hours in the evening binging Netflix, and typically Sunday afternoon when we grocery shop and he decompresses.

He has been so looking forward to this chance to finally exhale, escape with me, and just breathe deep for a week.  Make no mistake, I have been excited, too, but as close friends can attest, I never fully let myself invest in the run-up.  In fact, it was not until early this week that I began truly contemplating packing and letting myself believe it was going to happen.  Call me paranoid if you'd like, but I am gun-shy from too many pieces of carpet getting yanked from beneath in too short a span of time.

So here I sit.  Tracking his flight, typing out my emotions, and sending him strength for the days ahead.

He is on his way to see his parents.  Just as I did in February after his mother had been in the hospital yet again.  Like so many older adults, and I include my own parents, they have balked at the thought of moving from their home into a facility of any sort, regardless of how much sense it made, how much it would be in their best interests, and how they had two long term care policies at the ready to make it not only economically feasible, but by comparison to so many facing their health struggles, easy.

I tried while I was there.  Not pushing, because autonomy is not something I take for granted in my own life, and certainly not something I want to strip anyone else of.  Just gently laying it all out, discussing their policies and how they work, and trying to move the ball forward.

Well, life took the ball and Hail Mary'd the shit out of it two days ago.

While his mother has been in a facility for attention to a blood issue (doing well, making progress), his father has been at home.  He is 90 and takes one over-the-counter pill a day.  A remarkable man, smartest man I have ever known.  Cannot hear for shit these days and sees no reason to get hearing aids, so calling the house to check on him has been a moot point.  Enter the local, small town police department - all too happy to go out every few days to check on him and report back.  

Small towns and the people in them can be wonderful places.  And that police department has some gems.  Their Edward Jones financial guy is amazing as well.  As my mother-in-law had worried about her absence from their house and certain bills she needed to pay, he was happy to run by the house and pick them up to take them to her at the rehab place so she could write the checks and he could mail them.  

We are ever so grateful that he did.

They live in an old rambling home built by my husband's great grandfather.  It sits atop a hill, surrounded by nature's beauty - trees, ivy, wild turkeys, an occasional bear family, gorgeous views of the mountains.  No close neighbors.  No one to hear you scream, as it were, or holler for help.

The local PD had checked on my father-in-law Tuesday afternoon, reporting he was ok.  Wednesday afternoon, the EJ man went to the house to get the bills.  Through the sliding glass door, he saw my father-in-law stranded on the floor, where he had fallen and been since the police left the day before.  He could not get up.  Paramedics were called, and he is still at the hospital as they evaluate the next move on the chessboard.

Which is why I spent the rest of Wednesday canceling our trip and booking Rudy's to NC.

And I am not sitting here second guessing any of that part.  Not even slightly.  Yes, we are both sad over our getaway together being kicked off the calendar, of course we are.  But we would be even sadder if his father had not been found when he was.  Spain will be there another day.  His parents, at 87 and 90?  Another day is not something we take for granted. 

So now, in the face of crisis, and the inescapable realities that have left them with no wiggle room to hem or haw, Rudy will be working to figure out the next steps, the next place, the best options for them to move to in order that they are both safe and secure.  Based on phone conversations, his mom knows it is time.  And regardless of how his father has always grandstanded only leaving that house on his back, well, I'm sure that is how the paramedics took him out on the gurney, so he got a little of that wish.

There is so much about aging that we all try to avoid looking at.  Yes, we see the artifacts of time in the mirror, and in the faces and bodies of our friends and loved ones.  Collagen moves out, leaving no forwarding address.  Maladies of all sorts move in and refuse to leave, like squatters in an abandoned home.  But the planning for it all?  We avoid the difficult talks, the paperwork, the planning for the inevitable.

Experience is great teacher, and I learned so very much last year with my own parents.  I will tell you now - if your parents are still alive, start the dialogues.  Begin planning, talking through options.  Insist on the documents being drawn up NOW.  Powers of attorney.  Medical Powers of Attorney.  Living wills / health directives.  Wills, executors named.  If care, what ifs, bill paying will be falling to you (and/or siblings), get on your parents' financial accounts NOW.  Then keep your hands off them until it is time to step in and help them.  (I highlight that part because too many stories of shitbag children pilfering from their parents are why so many eldery people are averse to this step.)

Just get your, and their, ducks in a row.

We are all heading to the same place.  None of us gets out of this life alive.  We are all decaying.  Some of us have time bombs in our heads that will explode as Alzheimers, Parkinson's, dementia.  Some of us have time bombs that will detonate as cancer, heart, lung, insert-any-organ ailments.   Maybe we will get lucky and be like my father-in-law with his one OTC pill a day and eventually simply expire from old age.

We just don't know, so the best we can do is plan.  Life will find a way, but with the proper planning and documentation, you can mitigate the effing it can do in regards to life's dwindling days.

Now, allow me a moment to direct this to my husband:

Rudy, today and the week ahead are simply not what we imagined.  No adventuring, no hand holding, no exploring, sleeping in, cheering at the game.  Your adventures will instead be exploring potential care facilities.  No sleeping in, not much sleep at all, I would imagine.  And the hand holding will be virtual, through the ether and across the miles.  It's ok.  Love is bigger than any trip, any plans we had.  Not just our love for each other, but the love we have for our families.  That's massive and it has always been the air we breathe.  It's just what we do.  We don't know any other way.  Hug them both for me, take it all one step at a time, and keep dreaming about Spain.  We will get back there.  Together.  ily  

Comments

[Nikki in nyc]

Mom got all her paperwork done when she moved. The lawyer who handled the closing on her house urged her to do it before she needed it. Five years later we are smacked in the head with a kung cancer diagnosis. For a min-smoker. She is undergoing treatment and doing all right. But I am glad she got all that stuff taken care of. I an pulling my hair out enough without that hanging over my head.i hope your in laws will be ok.

[Vickie Walker]

I can’t begin to emphasize enough the importance of getting all the legal documents you mentioned done while you are of sound mind to do it!! Forty years in a law office and I have seen EVERY scenario play out. Trust me when I say, it may be difficult, but it is so much easier on the family when the time comes if you have put your wishes on paper in legal form. Having these done also alleviates the necessity of having to take legal action with a guardianship which also increases costs because that has to be done through the courts. Also, please seek the advice of an attorney to prepare the necessary documents for your state of residence. Avoid the forms you find on the internet!!

I will be sending you all the good vibes possible for a smooth transition and hope Rudy’s dad makes a swift recovery ❤️