SubscribeAccepting my mom’s shrinking world
I feel sadness when I think about how the size of my Mom’s world is shrinking.
The other day my daughter and I took her to deal with a prescription for her eyeglasses and while we were out I suggested that the three of us go to dinner. My mother seemed a bit reluctant but agreed. She clutched her cane tightly each time we got out of the car and asked me to hold her hand so that she wouldn’t stumble and fall. We ate shrimp and trout at her favorite seafood restaurant. It was the first time she had been out of the house for a social activity in nearly four months.
My nearly 80-year-old Mom spends most days at home, except for doctor’s appointments. She even waits longer now to visit her hairdresser. She didn’t leave the house during the Christmas holidays and recently turned down an invitation to an anniversary celebration for some longtime friends. My mother’s health problems make it painful and difficult for her to do a lot of walking and she has lost some sight in one of her eyes.
My mother isn’t one to complain but I know that if I’m saddened by the increasing restrictions on her lifestyle, I know she is too. My mother can’t drive anymore. She no longer walks several miles a day, mows her yard or prunes the shrubs. She doesn’t go to church (the pastor visits her at home). Intellectually, I understand that physical deterioration is a part of the aging process. But that doesn’t make accepting it any easier.
Still, my Mom is who she’s always been. She listens and doesn’t judge, and often has a house full of not only daughters but grandchildren, nieces and nephews who show up to talk and laugh. She makes a great sweet potato pie, though not as frequently. She can still take care of herself, with some help from others, and isn’t suffering any life-threatening problems. She likes to chat about the news events of the day. She gives great hugs.
When I start thinking too much about my Mom’s shrinking world, I make a mental list of everything that is still wonderful. It’s still a long one. I am thankful.
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I am a member of the Sandwich Generation, a Baby Boomer raising a teenage daughter and dealing with the needs of an aging mother. I am a veteran journalist, having worked for more than three decades as a reporter and editor. Mostly recently, I was an editor with the Metro section of The Washington Post.
