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I just turned 50, and I find myself in a very strange role. Actually, I should say roles, plural. Now, in addition to being a wife, I'm the mother of three grown daughters (along with their husbands), grandmother to six young grandchildren, and part-time care giver to an elderly mother. Some days I'm not sure how I have kept my sanity! But I have, through trial and error, learned a few "tricks of the trade."

Coping with Mom has been the most difficult job I've ever had. She's 88 and has advanced Alzheimer's. Dad died several years ago, and after losing him, Mom went down quickly. My husband and I moved in with her in an effort to forestall her moving to a home, and this worked out for about two years. But then she began to do things that were dangerous, like leaving the stove on, trying to burn leaves outside, and wondering away on foot to crowded streets. I couldn't quit my full-time job as a teacher to stay with Mom all day, so an assisted living home was our best bet.

The place was awesome! A few of Mom's old friends were there, and the building was beautiful, inside and out. We chose a place near my school, and I visited with Mom every day on my way home and took inventory to see what items she needed. Once a week, my nurse-daughter went by to check on Mom's health. On the weekends, my brother and my two other daughters visited. I found that establishing a routine was paramount to coping, and that sharing and assigning responsibilities was a wonderful strategy.

One problem I wrestled with was guilt. No matter how much I did for Mom, I often felt that I should be doing more. Close friends helped me with this, as did prayer. And to be honest, without a lot of prayers, there's no way I would have survived Mom's last year on earth.

After Mom turned 87, she started having bouts of congestive heart failure. The home would send her to the emergency room, and then call me. I spent several nights sitting in a chair next to Mom's hospital bed as they gave her enough diuretics to drain off the excess fluid.
Being "out of her element," Mother was always very nervous while in the hospital. Old and frail as she was, she was amazingly quick, as I learned on our first excursion at the ER.

After they got Mom settled down, I left her for about two minutes to go to the restroom. When I returned, I discovered she had removed her O2 saturation meter, her blood pressure cuff, her oxygen, and her IV. She had started on her catheter. I stopped her.

"But I have to get up! I need to go

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