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Professor David Demko, PhD AgeVenture News Service "Dad. Dad?" I called across the early morning darkness of my father's room to wake him for breakfast before sending the kids off to school and heading for work. I caught myself listening to the name I called. "Dad". The word sounds so familiar, but the tone in which I call is new, different, and unsettling. Has it really been three years since this man abdicated his position as king of his own castle in exchange for a single room in his son's home? The towering giant of my childhood is now frail, vulnerable, seeking my protection and care. "Dad". Calling out to a parent generally meant a request ... from me ... for help, a favor, permission, sometimes money for the movies. For decades, the call meant I was about to receive the bounty of love, protection, gifts, caring ... that so expectedly, so easily pass from parent to child. This morning as I tip-toed into Dad's tiny room, I recalled a similar scene ... a bedroom ... darkness. Except, I was the one in bed, a child who wouldn't fall asleep before my father's bedtime story. I remember the strong arms that carried me away to bed, the huge hand that turned the storybook pages, the wise, all-knowing look. Was there anything that Dad didn't know? Back to reality. The old one stirs from his sleep as I approach. Who is this person? "Dad?" Perhaps the question in the tone of my voice isn't consciously inquiring about his state of arousal as much as it questions, "Can this be the same once seemingly indestructable man?" Is this a glimpse of my future self? My mind wanders back to my high school teacher reciting Robert Frost. "But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep." Sunlight is filling the room now. I recognize the limits of time, unkept promises to myself, and a jolting recognition of my responsibilites ... once sought-after symbols of freedom that now seem to confine me. The parent is now the recipient of the caring, my caring. Things just seem to have gradually ... yet all of the sudden ... gotten turned upside-down. "Sure, sure you can have a cup of coffee. But just one. You know what the doctor said. Now, let's see. Is it the blue pill in the morning and the pink at night, or is it the other way around? No, dad, you can't skip your medicine. I'm going to watch and make sure that you ... ". Sometimes I can't believe the words that come out of my mouth. If I ever get like him, I'll ... This role-reversal is repeated in thousands of households as adult children cope with the caring of an aged parent. In fact, over 80 percent of the care provided to today's elderly is given by family members. No one really expects to take care of the parents who so ably took care of them. But when it happens, and chances are it will, what will you do? |