I’ve always known my parents were unique in their life long self sufficiency but just how that quality might impact my life was brought home recently on a routine trip to my family doctor.

First let me tell you a bit about my folks. My dad left home at 18 to become a merchant marine, he married my mom who was a school teacher and they bought a farm in Marshall, Michigan. My dad worked his way up in manufacturing to become a personnel manager. My mom got her Masters in education and went on to teach for nearly 30 years in public schools. After they retired, the sold the farm, moved around a bit, traveled extensively and then in their 70’s decided to buy a home in the Carolinas to be near my brother and me. Five years ago, they sold their home in Tryon, NC and bought a two-bedroom apartment in a retirement community adjacent to Furman University, about fifteen minutes from my house. They have drawn up a trust, have living wills, health care directives and named their executer. My dad is 91 my mom is 88 and they are in robust health, mentally sharp, exercise regularly and socialize easily. We have dinner together about once a week and talk on the phone daily. There have been a few bumps in the road, my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease last year but has responded well to medication, he maintains his regular exercise regime which he credits with keeping him fit. My mom is a eucharistic minister, hospice volunteer and newcomer greeter. Life is good for them and us and I always thought that I recognized how fortunate I was to have parents that worked hard, saved money and planned ahead but until this incident, I never really internalized how incredibly lucky I am in the parental sweepstakes.

I was in the waiting room of my doctor’s office, waiting for my husband to schedule his next appointment and we could be on our way. In the doorway was a tiny woman in her 70’s hunched over, taking tiny shuffling steps, as she made her way slowly down the hall, her daughter who appeared to be about my age in her late 50’s, gently took her by the arm and led her back to a chair in the lobby, next to her husband who was in a wheelchair. He also appeared to be in his 70’s. The man’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth and he had a wild-eyed look. Occasionally he would look up and shout some paranoid ramblings that ended in “I know you did it.” The younger woman who I assumed was his daughter was busy filling out paperwork. Her mother slumped down in her seat and began crying and begging for ice cream. The daughter mumbled, “That’s the last time I use ice cream as a means of getting you in the car.” Once the mother realized no ice cream was forthcoming she began pleading for candy. Meanwhile the father became increasingly agitated. The daughter was calm but looked exhausted and overwhelmed. When the nurse called them back to the exam room, the daughter explained that when her father became agitated it increased her mother’s anxiety. I found myself overcome with the need to hug the daughter, pat her back and say something comforting to her, instead I got in the car and started crying. I thought to myself, you’re emotionally overwhelmed by watching those old people for 10 minutes, that daughter has to deal with this on a daily basis. I kept thinking, that could be me. I could be the daughter struggling to take care of her demented parents, perhaps while also trying to work full time and tend to her own family. I felt haunted by the experience. I kept thinking of all the care givers in the world and how thankless and overwhelming their jobs are. How day after day they handle the details of personal care, medical emergencies, meals and the list goes on. How debilitating it must be to care for people who are incapable of expressing gratitude. Knowing that every day will be a grind and a downward spiral.

The admiration and respect for my parents rose exponentially that day. Obviously, my parents are fortunate that they had the foresight and resources to plan for their retirement and to make the right move at the right time. For all those people who are insistent on staying in their own home and refuse to draw up a will or make any kind of plan as they age I would say if you don’t care to make these plans for yourselves, do it for your children who will become your caregivers, if you are lucky. Too many times people with the means to fund moving to a retirement community wait too long. They postpone downsizing and moving until one or both are infirm and as a result are traumatized by the move from their familiar environment thus they are incapable of making friends, adjusting and recreating their lives. Make your move to simplify and live in a safer environment (no stairs, handicapped accessible bathrooms, etc.) sooner rather than later.

While most children love their parents and would be willing to sacrifice time and money to care for them, it’s unfair to ask your children to give up their lives to extend yours.