by Sharon Smith

Created on: October 09, 2010

I grew up with the mentality that you cared for your parents, no matter what, when they got older.  When I assumed this responsibility at thirty something, it never occurred to me to question my up bringing.  I jumped in with both feet, got my mothers health stabilized, and assumed her role as the homemaker in their house along with my own.  My dad's health quickly took a decline and he began to have multiple falls a week.  I rarely got to sleep a night in my own bed.

My health failed me.  I became depressed.  My back began to feel the pull of every fall they took.  My children suffered.  Their attendance in school dropped, thus, their grades did too.  I spent less time at my home and more time at my parents.  The two AM phone calls that made me leap out of bed, drag my youngest child to their aid was draining.  I gained forty pounds.  I became addicted to prescription drugs.  I developed a severe eating problem.      

Dad took a bad fall, he had to have surgery on his head.  The rest of the family came from far and wide to see just how bad it was.  It was bad.  They relocated our folks to another state, with another sibling.  In less than a year, she could no longer care for them, but this time, they were left to fend for themselves for a few months.  They had people who checked on them, and my sister went over whenever she was able, but they were no longer receiving what they needed.

My brother, the only boy, decided to take his turn at this nurturing thing, after all, how hard could it be?  God bless my sister in law,  she assumed the responsibility.  They did everything they could, for three months.

The youngest of our family threw her hat into the ring.  Mom and Dad could not be satisfied in her beautiful home.  Although they had the best life anyone could give them, they wanted their own home.  They wanted to be in control of their own destiny.  The oldest sister moved them back to their home last month.

They need twenty four hour a day care.  I feel guilty for not being there.  My twelve year old baby needs me to be a good mom.  My eighteen year old needed that too, but didn't get it.  I was too busy being a good daughter to my parents than to be a good mom to my own daughter.  She had to pay the price.  Truth is, when it's my time to be cared for,I will place myself in a nice facility.  I do hope to have visitors, often.  But the children my husband and I brought into this world are from now on, my biggest concern.

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