The Seesaw that is Life

A young woman is sitting behind a huge desk in the lobby of the nursing home.  She has a big, beautiful smile, as she seems delighted to have someone to welcome.  My husband leans down and signs the visitor book as he notices that his father has been there since 10 am this morning, it is now 6 pm. 

My mother-in-law was placed in this facility about a month ago when her Alzheimer’s reached a point where my father-in-law, at 89 years old, simply found it impossible to properly care for her and protect himself (and her) at the same time.   One evening, when my father-in-law refused to take her on a fool’s errand, one she had imagined in her Alzheimer’s state, she attacked him with her cane.  The police were called and the last few years of getting by, of making do and getting along…they were blown away.

My father-in-law is a mellow man.  Actually, until my mother-in-law became ill, he never really spoke much at all.  I was always amazed at his silence and just assumed it was his way of coping, getting along and keeping the peace.  But, in reality, I think he was just deeply in love with his wife and wanted to please her.  My mother-in-law was a strong woman; I don’t mean to speak of her in the past tense as she is still here physically; yet mentally she is no longer strong.  Alzheimer’s and medications have left her docile.

For a bit over 63 years my in-laws have been married.  The balance that such a long-standing marriage demands has become more and more obvious to me as my marriage is now half way through its 33^rd year.  In order for a couple to remain together, roles are taken and kept and as long as things remain in their usual pattern, there isn’t much change.  From an outsiders’ viewpoint, my in-laws marriage had a unique balance in that my mother-in-law made the plans, the rules, and held the upper hand while my father-in-law went along so as to not upset the apple cart.  I am sure that if something truly mattered to him, he would have spoken up, but, for the most part, his sanity and his peace were enhanced as long as my mother-in-law was happy. 

When my mother-in-law’s Alzheimer’s became more and more evident, the balance gradually shifted.  As my mother-in-law grew more silent and became less capable, my father-in-law grew louder and took on more responsibility.  The balance was maintained; only the seesaw was heading in the other direction.  It took for my mother-in-law to get so low that no amount of balance could be maintained, for outside forces to be needed and for the time on the playground to come to an end.

Now, my father-in-law sits with my mother-in-law in the nursing home most of the day.  He keeps her company until he just cannot sit anymore.  He comes to our house for dinner or takes himself out, then goes home.  It must be a very odd feeling for him.  He must feel a mixture of loneliness and relief.  Loneliness for the wife he knew and loved all those years, yet relief in the lifting of the burden and the fear that comes from caring for someone who has lost her ability to think clearly and is a potential danger to all around her.  After all, the fire department was called twice as small fires started in their apartment because she forgot and left something to burn in the oven.

Watching this transformation these last few years, a transformation that I have mentioned before, is in many ways (of all things) a life affirming reality.  When, in a previous blog I wrote that one of the nice things about Alzheimer’s is that my mother-in-law forgot she never really liked me, I meant it.  The wall that she built, from the time my husband told her we had decided to marry until the time that her illness became evident, collapsed.  I tried very hard to knock down that wall in the beginning of my connection with the family, but after years of watching the wall get ever stronger, I simply gave up.  Yet now, the wall has vaporized, with only the indentation left on the ground where it once stood. The indentation is the memory of the years of hurt that once existed, but there is no longer anything there to push the buttons.

Life changes.  My children are grown, my father passed away over three years ago.  With each sunrise we step ever so closer to the next stage of life.  That next stage had always been filled with excitement and promise in my mind.  From teenage years to college years to young married life to having babies, then to enjoying the beautiful people the babies grew to be…each stage was filled with light and laughter for the most part, and for that I am eternally thankful.

What will this next stage bring?  I see my father-in-law and how he has so drastically morphed into a new person, at 89!!  Although his transformation has grown out of hardship and necessity, he has still come into his own.  I am sure he would gladly revert to the introverted, silent man with the happy, forceful wife if given the choice, but the choice is not an option and so he has adapted.

There is much to look forward to, I hope, in the years to come; with laughter and love and as our family expands through my children’s relationships.  I look forward to weddings and grandchildren and vacations and new homes, G-d willing.  I enjoy the families that are becoming an ever important part of my own – the parents and families of my children’s significant others.  These beautiful people I now consider family!  Who would have guessed I would have family in Colorado and Connecticut?!  These new family members have grown very important to me.  I am so thankful, so grateful that we all feel so instantly attached.  I am so extremely honored to be included in their lives.

Because of this, it is with great optimism, love, promise and warmth that I am looking forward to this next stage in life.  The more the merrier!!  As the seesaw of life moves, I believe the trick is to enjoy each and every vantage point, each changing view as it happens and go with the flow.

The days may go round and round like the carousel, but the ups and down of the seesaw are the years.  In either case, hold on tight and never let go of those you love.