Category Archives: Elderly parents

Only Child looks at Karma

Only child ponders ins and outs of Karma

Only child ponders ins and outs of Karma

Karma is defined “as the force created by a person’s actions that some people believe causes good or bad things to happen to that person” (Merriam-Webster online). That is taken in its broadest general sense. To break it down, if someone hurts someone else, the person doing the hurting will get their “just desserts” in the future. Or as some people (including me) believe – what goes around comes around, good or bad.

Problem with that is we usually don’t know what happens to someone who does us wrong or someone who helps us. This non-disclosure makes me wonder just how much Karma is taking place.

I do have a couple of concrete examples in my life of both good and bad.

First, leaving the good for last, here is the bad.

A few decades ago, when I worked in editorial for a legal publishing company in Aurora, one of the employees in finance, offered to drive me to work in the morning. It was her idea – I never asked her to do this – and as she lived near me and I was on her way there, I said, “yes,” gratefully.

She had a young child to drop off at daycare on the way – fine with me, even when she was a bit late arriving to pick me up. I knew very well that small children can slow you down. What wasn’t fine with me is this bitch (you will see why I call her this in a sec), suddenly blamed me for her being late – i.e., she said I was always late and never ready when she arrived to pick me up. I admit to a couple of times rushing out with the garbage as she arrived, but 98 per cent of the time I was ready.

Not only that – when she blamed me she said she could no longer pick me up and drive me to work. No warning, no giving me to the rest of the week at least. It was her prerogative to decide not to pick me up any more – but don’t blame me for her delay problems.

So, I started taking the infrequently running (then) Aurora Transit bus to work.

Karma arrived in a month or so when the bitch broke her ankle and couldn’t drive herself to work. She was then in my position – having to get someone else at work living near her to drive her (and the kid to daycare) to and from work. Perfect example of what goes around comes around. And I had nothing to do with making it happen.

The good Karma is with my son and me. When he was growing up I raised him quite differently than my mom and dad raised me. This is not a blame  on my parents thing here. Mom and Dad were elderly parents (Mom was 41 when I was born – not old by today’s standards) and Dad was 49). So they were overprotective, particularly Dad and Mom was strict. But the big blame, if you wish to call it that, here is the Catholic Church and how it infiltrated our lives in the 1950s and early 1960s. You couldn’t go to the bathroom without wondering if it was wrong and if you were committing a mortal or venial sin.

So, among other things, I treated my son as an individual. Although he went to Catholic schools (the property taxes went there and my ex who helped raise our son didn’t want to have him to got regular public schools), we didn’t do the weekly Sunday Mass thing. The Catholic Church then wasn’t so strict, which helped some. Instead of being strict with my son, especially as he got older –  age 10 on and into his teens, I used the actions result in consequences approach, something I learned from a friend. Sometimes I decided on the consequences, but I kept it reasonable and connected to what he did. One example was when he and some of his friends got into the liquor cabinet at one of the friend’s homes. He told me about it afterwards. At the time he was playing in a band, so I decided a complete grounding was not the right thing to do. Martin and I discussed all this including why you don’t drink at age 15 and 16. True, I told him he was riding a bike, not driving a car, but he could still have an accident. So, I said he was grounded from anything but school and band practices and gigs for two weeks.

One of my co-workers at school who got wind of this via a mutual friend whose daughter was one of the group into the liquor cabinet thought this was too lenient.

I didn’t. The incident didn’t have anything to do with my son’s band practice/gigs, so why punish the whole band for what he did?

That’s just one example. I also took him on trips via train and airplane in southern Ontario and to the east and west coast of Canada. Those were the days when I had money and had a good job.

And as a sidebar – my ex, who as I said helped raise our son – wasn’t strict either. He actually got our son involved in extra-curricular activities – but discussed them with me –  and also treated our son as an individual. You might say we made lousy spouses, but were in sinc with raising our son.

Today, the tables are turned and my son helps me a lot. He takes me out for dinner, paid for my new living room couch (his idea – the old one was very badly damaged, including some damage from the ex-boarder’s bloody cat), picks ups heavy stuff I need (which I pay him back for), such as a vacuum cleaner and salt for winter ice on the sidewalk and driveway. He also has bought me some electronic equipment such as a Kobo, a new scanner and a digital camera, plus helps me with computers – getting leased ones, setting them up, and helping with computer snafus.

It’s not only that. We have turned into friends and tell each other stuff. We have met each other’s friends, including Martin’s partner, Juni, and my grade school and high school friend, Margaret.  He is concerned about my health issues and so am I about his.

So, that’s an ongoing Karma for a longtime situation raising my son.

It’s just all the other crap happening where I don’t have to do some consumer advocacy stuff, that I would like to know that Karma is working. Happenings such as when a car nearly runs me down on my green light or a cyclist riding on the sidewalk instead of the road. And when a stupid bitch hit me in a parking lot and took off. What happened with them? Did Karma work? Did they get their just desserts?

Ditto for the good things, such as anyone on a bus, streetcar or subway who gives up their seat so I can sit down. Or somebody who chases after me down the street with a bag of fruit I had just bought and had unknowingly dropped on the sidewalk when I thought I was dropping it in my bag and hands me the bag, saying “you dropped this”?

Of course I thank them right then. But do they get their good Karma for their good deeds?

It might be nice to know. Because it would certainly raise the little trust I have overall in this world of 2016.

My two dollar’s worth anyway.

What do you think?

Comments please.

 

Cheers.

Sharon

Only Child Writes

 

 

 

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Filed under 1950s, 1960s, Actions Consequences, Believing, Elderly parents, Family, Karma, Life Balance, Mom and Dad, Only child

Only Child on going it solo

Growing up an only child had its peculiarities – some good, some bad. On the bad side, there is the obvious – no siblings to confide in, to help you get through your life especially if like me, you were bullied. Of course, siblings fight and tease each other, but for the most part I would suppose that is normal. There are always exceptions.

Throw in elderly parents – where one (Mom) pushes being pro-active where the Bully is concerned, and the other (Dad) is over-protective and you can be left going from one extreme to the other in dealing with what gets shoved at you in life.

Some only children withdraw into themselves and don’t have any close friends.

Following this going to opposites mentioned above, I did have close friends (besides the Bully) but I also kept my own counsel on many things. And I found I was confiding a lot in my mother – not everything, of course. She didn’t need a blow-by-blow account of my dates as a teenager, although she did almost embarrass me once, when a fellow was walking me home from a teen dance at the church. That was our agreement. I could go to these Sunday evening dances but Mom would meet me halfway walking home. In my memoir I write:

After putting on boots, coats, and hats (well, I did the latter), we amble up Donlands, past the bungalows. While we talk – I have no idea about what, probably about where I live as he thinks he’s taking me there – I dart looks in front. No Mom yet. Are we early?

We cross Plains Road and walk by Vince’s Jewellery Store, beyond the Donlands Cinema. I’m cranking my head over towards Joe, then down, supposedly to watch my footing in the snow. I sneak a look up the street and there she is.

Mom is heading our way and I want to duck into the Donlands Restaurant with Joe but I’m too chicken. Maybe it’s closed, I tell myself. But wait. Mom is doing her diplomatic thing. She pulls into a doorway, Hurst’s Drugstore, I think. Joe and I keep on talking and walking. I can feel Mom’s eyes on us.

When we stop for the lights at O’Connor, I turn to Joe.

“I can walk home the rest of the way myself,” I say. “Yeah. It’s just up there.” I point to my right.

“Okay. I’ll call you sometime during the week.”

“Okay. Good night.

“Good night.”

Fortunately, he doesn’t kiss me. Mom catches up with me. Now I’m in for it.

“I didn’t want to embarrass you so I stepped into the doorway,” she says. (Excerpted from You Can Go Home, Copyright 2014 Sharon A. Crawford).

Growing up solo did give me the background to learn to think for myself. Problem was it took me nearly 30 years to start doing so. When you grow up an only child cocooned by elderly parents, particularly if one or both are protective, throw in losing your dad to cancer when you are 16 and your mother to a brain aneurysm when you are 22, and then you get married three months later, you aren’t exactly prime material for sticking up for your rights. Instead you lean towards others taking care of you.

How can you change?
First you have to have a child; then get separated from your spouse or partner, and then get hit with medical and financial problems.

 

But growing up an only child can teach you to problem solve – mainly because you have to learn to go inside yourself and pull out some possible solutions. The flip side is you may have trouble asking others for help. And when you do, it comes out as a big whine.

 

It didn’t all come right away, but I’ve turned into a fighter- finally. True I’m often cranky and come on strong in anger, but I’d rather be that than a perpetual doormat.

Cheers.

Sharon A. Crawford

Only Child Writes

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Filed under Aloneness, Elderly parents, Life demands, Mom and Dad, Only child, Only child memoir, Sharon A. Crawford, Social skills only children

Only Child honours Dad on his anniversary

Only child's Dad when he worked for the railway

Only child’s Dad when he worked for the railway

Losing a parent can be devastating, but particularly if you are a child. My dad, Albert Langevin,  died from brain cancer at 66 on November 15, 1965. That is a double whammy as I was only 16 at the time. But if truth be told, Mom and I had lost Dad years before that to cancer, starting with the first cancer hit in his lungs a few months before my 10th birthday. Surgery of half a lung removed got rid of it there, but cancer being cancer, it spread to his brain two and a half years later. Mom and I thought he would die. And we had the talk.

One day Mom corrals me in the kitchen.

“Sharon, I have something to tell you,” she begins, as we stand, facing each other. This isn’t sit-down business. “Your father has cancer of the brain.”

“Is he going to live?”

“I don’t know.”

Our hug does not reassure. (excerpted from You Can Go Home – Deconstructing the Demons, copyright 2013 Sharon A. Crawford)

So Mom called in the “troops” in the form of one of her older sisters to help out at the house so she could spend more time with Dad and often I joined her.

Aunt Gretchen now joins the litany of worriers hovering around Dad as he continues to vomit and endure the headaches. She brings her dumpy flowered housedresses, straight black hair, black oxfords, and bricks of blue cheese that stink up our fridge and would probably kill Dad if he were home and could keep anything down. I don’t remember Gretchen ever setting foot in the hospital, but she rules the home front. She commandeers the cooking and washing up after dinner, supposedly a blessing for mother and me…

 

Gretchen’s answer is to pray. I still hold onto religion then, so our impromptu female trinity prays rosaries, as if strumming the circle of beads and muttering praises and pleas will make my father whole and keep him alive.

     

St. Michael’s Hospital radiatesa friendlier air than Western, maybe because the chief guardian angel resides there. And St. Mike must have listened to our prayers, because one day when mother and I walk into his room, Dad smiles at us.

 

“I ate a cheese sandwich, and it stayed down,” he says. [Author Note: not blue cheese]

     

Soon after Dad returns to our house and Aunt Gretchen returns to hers. (excerpted from You Can Go Home – Deconstructing the Demons, copyright 2013 Sharon A. Crawford)

That wasn’t the end of the cancer but four years later would be Dad’s end.

I like to remember Dad for more than just his cancer. He taught me to ride my bicycle, leading me along our street and the dead end crescent adjoining it. I was nine and a half, maybe a bit old to be just learning to ride a bike as my best friend The Bully told me. Looking back I realize that Dad holding the bike bars and leading me around along our street helped neutralize this Bully’s remarks. True, Dad was overprotective, as elderly parents often are, but he tried to protect me from The Bully.

Dad gave me the gift of being a railway/train-riding enthusiast. Dad worked as a timekeeper for the old CNR (when CN was CNR and had passenger service) so Mom and I got free passes. Our annual holidays to Grandpa’s and my godmother’s farms near Walkerton, Ontario, trips to visit the Detroit, Michigan relatives, and tourist trips to Buffalo, Rochester and New York City were all courtesy of Dad.

Dad’s railway job (an office one at the CNR office when it was in Toronto) may have induced his obsession with all things (including the kitchen wall clock and his watch) being on time. We had to arrive at Toronto’s Union Station very early so he could be first in line to get on the train. Once we were allowed on, Dad cased the joint by walking up and down the coach aisles until he found the perfect seat. Then he would grab the top of the seat back and slide the seat backwards, creating two double seats facing each. I know, this dates me, but it was a great answer to keep families travelling together.

One of our trips to Detroit, when I was five was memorable because when the train arrived at Windsor, Ontario, a boat took us, train and all across the Detroit River.

 

Enter the Landsdowne Ferry in 1891, at 312 feet, the longest ferry on the Great Lakes. That summer of 1954, Mom, Dad and I were fortunate to take one of its last runs because in September 1955 or 1956, depending on your source, the CNR pulled the plug on passenger railway/ferry service. Once again passengers had to disembark from a train at Windsor and board an American train at Detroit. This time a bus carried them through the Detroit-Windsor tunnel.

 

But to a five-year old, the river run is a big sea adventure filled with rollicking train coaches and the screech of metal wheels on steel rails as the train jerks and jolts onto the long open freighter. Instead of the train whistle, we get the foghorn call of the boat and the floor seems to zig and zag. I hang onto the seat, but I also look out the window. The train appears to be moving on water, as if its wheels are kicking through the river…

 

We head to the back of the train and I gasp. The doorway is wide open and an expansion gate blocks our exit out onto the boat. On the other side of the gate the top of the boat sits level with the tracks, and beyond is the city of Windsor, fast disappearing as the boat-train sloshes and kicks its way through the dark green Detroit River. (excerpted from You Can Go Home – Deconstructing the Demons, copyright 2013 Sharon A. Crawford.

Sometimes in November I can feel Dad’s spirit here in my house. In 2005, on the 40th anniversary of his death, I heard his spirit rush through the house, through the back hallway.

I don’t know if he will re-appear so dramatically this year, but I know he is here.

Love you and miss you Dad.

Cheers.

Sharon A. Crawford

Only Child Writes

Dad's last picture

Dad’s last picture

Only Child at 13 and Dad on veranda of house where she grew up

Only Child at 13 and Dad on veranda of house where she grew up

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Filed under 1950s, 1960s, Albert Langevin, Canadian National Railway, Death and Dying, Elderly parents, Family, Mom and Dad, Only child memoir, Railways, Sharon A. Crawford, Vacations

Only Child tackles starting the memoir

Only Child at 13 and Dad on veranda of house where she grew up

When I first started writing my memoir I had a very different take on what I wanted to include. I wanted it to be more family history – mainly the dead relatives and my relationship with them – when they were alive. I’m not that weird. Some family flak, as well as some constructive criticism from another writer, steered me in another direction. My memoir is now my story of growing up a shy only child of elderly parents in the 1950s and 1960s when Dad is dying of cancer and the environment is old-school Catholic.

When you find your memoir muse, writing the actual memoir can seem daunting. Where do you start? Where do you go?

In my last post https://onlychildwrites.wordpress.com/2012/04/03/only-child-on-finding-your-memoir-muse-2/ I talked about using the kaleidoscope method to narrow down what the heck you want to write about. When you decide if it is overcoming your drug addiction, your crazy childhood or your travels through the Yukon, that’s the branch of your kaleidoscope you use to create an outline.

But before you do that, you want to write down your memoir’s focus or mission statement. As I did above, try to get it down to one sentence, two sentences maximum. This will help you create your outline.

“Create” and “Outline” seem worlds apart. But if you just write “from the seat of your pants” your memoir will be all over the place. Just remember that whatever you put in this outline may not be what you end up with. Keep an open mind for change because as you write your memoir, things will change – perhaps your perspective, perhaps due to family flak, perhaps boredom on your part. Consider your outline a “work-in-progress.”

Then…

  • Do it as a chapter-by-chapter setup or as subject matter you wish to cover. This is just to get you started – to move you from mission statement to content.
  • Under each “subject” listed, write a few sentences or list (whichever works best for you) what you could cover there.
  • If you need to dig further for information, make a note in brackets (further info needed).

That’s it in a nutshell. And, once you write your beginning chapter, you don’t need to write the chapters in the order listed. Perhaps you are missing some research for Chapter Two or the content of Chapter Five is calling your muse.  Follow it. That’s being creative. Remember, you still have your outline to steer you in…later.

Happy memoir writing.

Cheers.

Sharon Crawford

Only Child Writes.

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Filed under 1950s, 1960s, cancer, Catholicism in the 1950s, Elderly parents, Memoir writing, Only child memoir, Organizing Memoir, Sharon Crawford

Only child ABC blog award nominee on Memoir

Only Child with Mom and Dad at her godmother's farm in the early 1960s.

One of this Onlychildwrites blog followers, TrishaDM nominated my blog for an ABC (Awesome Blog Content) Award. Thank you again, Trisha (http://trishadm.wordpress.com/2012/02/27/alphabet-soup-the-abc-award/). One of the criteria for those who receive the award from its creator, Alyson, of the Thought Palette blog (http://thethoughtpalette.co.uk/abc-award/) is to nominate other blogs and also to share briefly something about yourself, from A to Z.

So in the spirit of this nomination, I’m going to go right to the middle of the alphabet to M and share what memoir writing means to me. After all, this blog is about thoughts and offshoots, including a memoir, from growing up an only child of elderly parents. And in the two and a quarter years of posting, I’ve covered a lot of “offshoots” including health, relationships, the stress of living as an only (I call it the “only person syndrome”), writing – memoir and fiction, and, of course, the actual memoir.

Writing a memoir is an ongoing process. When I thought I was done, I found I wasn’t. From family flak to finding new information and remembering more to getting a better idea on what to write and how to write it, I may be adding to the memoir as I go to my grave. (Hopefully a memoir book will be published long before then).

This process has made me realize that although a memoir comes from your past, it also engulfs your present and no doubt will go into your future. Some days I feel as if the spirits of my late Mom and Dad are here. A psychic friend actually felt my mother’s spirit here. When I revisited the old house where I grew up, I did not feel the presence of either parents. However, on a return visit to take some outside photos (with the present owners’ permission) I did sense Mom’s presence, especially when I visited the nearby park where as a child I use to swing sky-high on the swings.

It’s no wonder that some days I feel as if I am several people – the little girl walking through my past, the young woman who had to learn to get out of her shy hurt shell, to now where I’m still changing. Some days I feel younger; some days I feel older. Looking to the future is scary, but it is all part of my story, my life. Or as William Berry once said, The past is our definition.  We may strive, with good reason, to escape it, or to escape what is bad in it, but we will escape it only by adding something better to it. 

Those are wise words for all of us, especially those of us who don’t want to forget the past but need to incorporate the present and move on into the future. Live life from the heart.

What says you?

Cheers.

Sharon Crawford

Only Child Writes

Only Child with her son, Martin, part of today's family. Martin is also "M," but son also comes under "S."

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Filed under ABC Blog Award, Elderly parents, Family, Health, Life learning, Memoir writing, Mom and Dad, Only child, Psychic Experiences, Sharon Crawford

Only Child on falls – causes and prevention

Only child and Mom balanced precariously. Not the way to prevent falls.

Yesterday I fell when walking down the steps outside a mall. Only the last two steps, and thanks to the extra padding of winter clothes, nothing was twisted, broken or even strained. But I went down cursing and swearing that this should not have happened. I know why it did. Thanks to wearing bifocals, there is a gap between the reading and distance part of my glasses that just doesn’t do depth perception well.

I suppose I could have followed in my late mother’s footsteps (literally) when at age 55 she fell while tearing up the basement stairs. She was in a hurry to get from the rec room to the phone in the dining room. Why was she running? Trying to be first to call for a TV contest. (The TV was in the rec room). Within a few weeks we had an extension phone in the rec room.

Mom wasn’t hurt – this time. A later fall at age 63 would lead to a brain aneurysm and her death. Some of my previous falls have occurred in the home – again on stairs (padded with carpet), or climbing up on a chair to get a dish from a high shelf. And outside in snowy, icy or slushy weather. One year I fell in the slush while crossing a busy street. I phoned a complaint to my city councillor. A few weeks later when the same mishap on another busy street happened to a younger woman, I gave her my hand and helped her up.

Help, especially with yourself, could be a key word for preventing falls this winter, particularly for us older folks. I don’t mean letting someone lead you by the hand wherever you go, but taking precautions. Don’t have time for them? Too busy. Consider a few falling-down statistics.

As you age so does your risk for falls.

Two thirds of those who fall will do so again within six months

Most falls occur in the home. (Source for these three facts: Colorado State University Extension http://www.ext.colostate.edu/pubs/consumer/10242.html

The latter may be a 50-50 risk factor for me, but it’s enough to make you check for roaming rugs and to hang onto the railing of stairs and perhaps look down. I was hanging on to the railing yesterday but perhaps not looking down.

According to Colorado State  University Extension, some other risk factors for falls are:

Osteoporosis, lack of physical activity, impaired vision (I’d add glasses design to this one), medications, and environmental factors. The latter includes objects on the floors, unsturdy furniture and poor lighting. Outside it could be sidewalk cracks and ice.

So what can you do to prevent falls? Get your vision checked often and clean your glasses. Get brighter lighting – something those squiggly-shaped environmental light bulbs don’t do – they provide glare instead. Exercise – walk and/or swim. Keep your walk areas clear of snow and ice (and hope your municipal government does the same for the roads and sidewalks; if not, complain, even to the point of calling up your local TV station with a consumer news flash). Know the main side effects of your medications, especially if you take more than one type. Ditch outdated medications. Talk to your doctor and pharmacist about this. More causes and preventions are on the Colorado State University Extension Website http://www.ext.colostate.edu/pubs/consumer/10242.html.

“Fall on your knees” may work in the Christmas carol Oh Holy Night but is not good in your life. At least most churches have padded kneelers and the back of a seat in front to hang onto.

Cheers.

Sharon Crawford

Only Child Writes

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Filed under Elderly parents, Health Seniors, lower your risk, Only child, Seniors, Seniors and falls, Sharon Crawford, winter falls

Only Child looks into elder abuse

Mum and Dad when both were alive.

Think of the most elderly person in your family – a grandparent, aunt, a parent, a spouse. Would you want them to be abused? Maybe they are still living their life full steam. And maybe not. Put yourself in the position of a much older-than-you person. Would you want to be abused?

My Mom and Dad were not abused as elderly parents. That may be partly because they didn’t live long enough to get past their early to mid-60s. I visited my godfather (when he was still alive) in a nursing home plus visited other nursing homes when doing interviews for newspaper and magazines articles (not on abuse) and found the treatment of their residents varied from okay to really good. In fact, in one instance, one of the nurse’s aides actually came over to a patient with dementia sitting in a wheelchair specifically to take her to her room to change her diaper. The aide gently told the lady what she was doing in a friendly but matter-of-fact manner. This is the opposite to some of the stories we read about nursing home abuse of the elderly. So, I have not personally seen elder abuse and my opinions are gleaned from what I’ve read and heard. The only “seen” of abuse is that TV commercial which is shown looking outside from a window with its blinds closed. Outside in the driveway, a young man is taking money from his elderly mother. We don’t see who is looking out the window and that is very effective for this topic.

The above is financial abuse and in the United States that constitutes 12.3 per cent of elder abuse (See http://karisable.com/elderabuse.htm). Many of us associate elder abuse with physical abuse in nursing homes. But that is only part of it. According to the same statistics, neglect gets the big statistic for abuse at 58.5 per cent with physical abuse coming in at 15.7 per cent. You can check out the website for more statistics. But elder abuse is more than a bunch of statistics.

When you consider neglect, think about someone’s grandparent or parent living alone or in a nursing home and their children seldom if ever come to visit. Or an elderly man or woman stuck in their home because no one – family or friend – comes to help them out to get groceries, take them to doctor’s or dentist’s appointments or even just stops by to visit. Sure, there are “care” organizations (for a fee) with some covered under various medical plans. But they are few and far between. Think of a crowd of people lining up for a big sale at a store, all for maybe five to ten actual items available for sale. That might give you an idea how bad the situation is in North America at least. And there are more of us getting up in age.

Read more about elder abuse, surprisingly more in the home, at http://www.apa.org/pi/aging/resources/guides/elder-abuse.aspx# (American Psychological Association, Elder Abuse and Neglect: In Search of Solutions).

How do we want to be treated when we are elderly? According to Statistics Canada (Family Violence in Canada, 2007 http://imfcanada.org/default.aspx?go=article&aid=1184&tid=8), by 2015, there will be more of us over 65 than under 15. Who’s minding the elderly? Scary thoughts.

Here are links to a couple of recent Toronto Star stories on elder abuse.

“Elder abuse a ‘hidden crime’ MPs say” Nov. 17, 2011 http://www.thestar.com/news/canada/politics/article/1088821–elder-abuse-a-hidden-crime-mps-say

For those interested in the nursing home situation, see “Nursing home reform requires grassroots support says advocate,” Nov. 19, 2011.” http://www.thestar.com/news/article/1089734–nursing-home-reform-requires-grassroots-support-says-advocate.

I have only touched the tip of a really big iceberg which among many other things consists of not enough long-term care facilities, the high cost of long-term care facility living, insufficient number of caregivers in these facilities, stress and burnout from caring for an elderly parent or spouse at home. The list is endless and I don’t pretend to know all of it.

I would like to get a dialogue going on this topic. Please comment.

Meantime, here’s a happy true story. Remember my friend Carol whose Dad died. I talked about that in last week’s post (https://onlychildwrites.wordpress.com/2011/11/22/only-child-on-elderly-parents/). Carol’s mom is still alive and Carol and her husband had to put her in a long-term care place a few years ago. Her mum has dementia (and that’s a whole other subject). Carol’s mom may have not gotten into the best (or the worst either) of places. But Mum has a good friend in her roommate. The roommate looks after Carol’s mom, taking care she gets her meals, gets around in the nursing home, etc. Carol, in turn, gets this woman flowers and really when she visits her own mom she is also visiting her roommate. Just as well, the roommate’s family never visits.

Not completely happy, but the story shows some hope and inspiration.

Cheers.

Sharon Crawford

Only Child Writes

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Filed under Elder abuse, Eldercare, Elderly parents, Health Seniors, Nursing Homes, Only child