Even though I am nearing 40 years old, and have a family of my own, I still refer to visiting my parents as “going home”. Still, with the emotional blind spot that I have hid behind for the last 1.5 years, I look forward to the holidays. However, with the introduction of cancer into our lives, the holidays take on new meaning, and our trip to my parent’s house felt nothing like going home.
My Mother has always been a fastidious person, and still is. Even though she is unable to do most household chores at this point, her standards have not changed. A true house wife of the 50’s, she still insists on a spotless floor (no small feat with white kitchen tile), a dustless environment, perfectly made beds (complete with stacks and stacks of throw pillows), and a clutter free bathroom counter. Granted there are only two adults living in her home right now, I personally cannot imagine living life without the chaos of a little laundry on the floor or a jar of peanut butter on the kitchen counter. I choose not to make myself crazy, but I do strive to keep an organized and clean house. I aspire to it.
Mom’s quirky but clean nature was easy to tolerate when she was healthy. Occasionally, she got angry with the grand kids if they left a crumb trail, spilled juice on the table or left a towel on the bathroom floor. Her slight OCD was not enjoyable, but for the most part, we were able to tolerate her outbursts of “I don’t know if you have rules at your house, but I work hard all day to keep things clean so that I can have nice things blah blah blah”. Now her outbursts are frequent and her standards are everyone’s burden to bear.
Mom alternates between being frustrated that she is not getting enough help, and being angry that she is being coddled. Breakfast conversation went like this: “Damn it Jim! Are you just going to sit there and watch me try to do this?! I just might need a little help sometimes you know- I am sick for god’s sake!” At which point my father would jump up with a tired and pissed off look on his face and go to help her open a jar, put jelly in the refrigerator, or do whatever she was bitching about. Not five minutes later, her mood would swing the other way “I just don’t understand why he thinks he has to do everything! I just told him the other day ‘Can’t I just have one room? Can’t I just run the kitchen?’ I don’t even want him in the kitchen when I am here! He runs around behind me like….” etc, etc.
It became increasingly difficult to manage even a weak smile of sympathy as the long weekend progressed. A few times, I even tried standing up for myself or my father or the kids or whoever she was after at the moment. Not a great idea. I received a lecture of grand proportions, along the lines of: “Sometimes you just need to think for yourself, Kelley. I have always been an independent thinker- a free spirit….” After a half hour in the bathroom wishing I could puke out all of the negative energy I had absorbed, I did the most logical thing. I became her-I became temporarily OCD, buzzing through the house on constant patrol for crumbs, dust, drink rings on furniture, toys or shoes on the floor, countertop litter, etc. I adopted a “don’t sit down long enough for her to think that you are not busy” approach to the rest of the visit. My husband and I decorated her house for Christmas, inside and out. Moved boxes in and out of my folks storage warehouse, packed up unused things, and carted them back to the warehouse. We changed lightbulbs, rearranged furniture, and re-wired her DVD player (ok-that was my husband, not me). Did I mention that we were only there for three days?
I have an older brother that lives near my parents, but rarely visits. I was frustrated with him, as my parents both complain non-stop about his avoidance of the situation. After spending the holidays at Mom and Dad’s house, I get it. I wouldn’t volunteer to go there either, and I am dreading a return trip for Christmas. I want to stay at home-MY home. For all that we accomplished during our Thanksgiving trip, none of it was good enough. Most of our work did not live up to her standards because, as she put it “I just have always liked things absolutely perfect. If it’s not perfect, I’m not happy with it. ” This statement is usually followed by “Oh, it was nice of you to try. It will do just fine.”
I wish that I had something more positive to say about the holiday, as I do know that it is increasingly probable that this will be our last Thanksgiving with my Mom. I just wish that the time spent with her were quality time. I am grateful for my family, and that we are able to reassure each other during this time. I am grateful that I am able to vent my frustrations, listen to their frustrations and that we are able to help each other put things in perspective.
I wish that for my Mom-that she would find the strength to join a cancer support group, as we have encouraged her to do so many times. I encourage everyone who is facing a life threatening or changing illness to do so, as your family can only provide you with so much support. Sympathy and empathy are different emotions, and lead us to different conclusions, to offer different advice, etc.
