Thankful My Parents Are Both Still Here

I almost lost both of my parents this year.

My dad, who has late-stage Parkinson’s Disease, was in and out of the hospital the entire first half of 2024, either for an extended stay or just to be checked out in the ER. The year began with a fall in late January when he got out of bed too early one Saturday morning and, alone and unsupported, went to get a bottle of Gatorade out of the refrigerator. Suffice it to say, he was unable to travel after that, so he’d have to miss my nephews’ bar mitzvah. At the time, his already worsening dementia and mobility issues were compounded by yet another UTI, which made him more agitated and confused. He would yell and argue with us about things that weren’t real. I didn’t want that to be my last impression of him, but when I left my dad in Florida in the rehab hospital, it really seemed like that might be the case. Not an unfamiliar feeling.

Then, just before Memorial Day weekend, he fell again when he got out of his recliner one afternoon, and after walking down the hall to the elevator (again, without his walker or any other support), reconsidered his plan to leave the house. The day earlier, he’d made it all the way downstairs in the elevator before we learned where he was. My mother, who saw him fall, called me in Boston in a panic and thought that was it. This incident necessitated another hospital stay, a partial hip replacement, and yet another trip to rehab — his fifth in two and a half years.

My dad was back in the hospital twice more in June, when his blood pressure dropped, and it was feared he may have had a stroke. He didn’t, but it was worth admitting him again for observation. A day after he came home from that first stay, he went back for a similar reason.

During that second hospital stay, in late June, my mother, who for weeks had been avoiding dealing with a bad wound on her ankle, was told to get it checked out in the ER. The doctors there gave her an antibiotic they shouldn’t have, and my mom went into cardiac arrest almost immediately. Performing CPR on her resulted in multiple broken ribs. She was intubated for about 12 hours.

I learned of this while I was out of the country, spending a week in Israel. Thankfully, when it happened, my sister was already heading south with my niece for a routine, pre-scheduled visit. I had to tell her the news from my hotel room after a particularly emotional day in which I visited the Nova Music Festival site and Sderot, among other places, minutes after my sister had landed in Florida. (Gotta love a seven-hour time difference.)

Without going into all the details, my mom ended up being in a hospital for 12.5 weeks. More than two weeks in that first hospital, then 10 days in rehab elsewhere (the same place where my dad had been five times before), then two weeks in another hospital because there was a complication, then back to the rehab for a few days, then back to that second hospital for another few days to deal with something else, then back to rehab again, back to the hospital again, and back to rehab. When she finally came home 11.5 weeks after her cardiac arrest, she fell the next morning in the bathroom and had to go back to the hospital, where she ended up staying for another week.

For a while during those 12.5 weeks, my mom basically stopped eating, and as a result, she lost a third of her already-low body weight. In addition, other issues were diagnosed that we’ve been dealing with ever since. Oh, and her ankle wound still isn’t healed.

Meanwhile, in early July, after a brief (but still too long) stay at an in-patient hospice facility, my dad moved into an assisted living facility (ALF), where he is now receiving the kind of care my mother can no longer provide for him. It’s strange to think this way, but given his worsening condition, if my mom hadn’t had her “accident” and my dad had been home with her, he probably would not have made it through the summer.

Instead, my parents went more than 13 weeks without being in the same room and seeing each other in person.

Today, they’re living separately, and neither is in great health — just last week, my dad fell again, broke his shoulder, and was back in the ER — but given all we’ve been through these last few months, what I’m most thankful for this Thanksgiving is the fact that my mom and dad are both still here, and they’re able to see each other somewhat regularly. Much as I’ve been mentally preparing to lose one of them, the prospect of losing both of my parents this year in such a short period of time was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. I’m so glad I still have more time with them.

To that end, I’ve spent much of 2024 in Florida with my dad and my mom, shuttling between their house and the hospitals and the facilities and elsewhere, preparing meals, giving medications, managing appointments, running errands, taking care of their house, dealing with their finances, trying to project calm in the midst of craziness — and trying to find time to get my own work done, too. It has been traumatic and very stressful, and I’m exhausted.

Thankfully, I’ve had help with all of this, so in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I wanted to give a few shoutouts here to folks who’ve made it easier.

Thank you to Myrtle, who is more than an aide and more than a caregiver. On so many occasions this year, she has gone above and beyond to take care of my parents, including moving in with my mother for five weeks in October and November when I took a break and went back to Boston. We could not have gotten through these last few months without her.

Thank you to all the doctors, nurses, and physical and occupational therapists who’ve seen and worked with my parents — especially those who work on 4N and 5S at Memorial Regional Hospital South, including Dr. Holland, Dr. Mauriello, Steven, Tanya, Yvoncia, Steffi, Melissa, Will, Nadia, Rachelle, Ben, Roger, Nadine, Cindy, Luz, Cossett, Corinne, Sharon, Angela, and Mary. These people took really good care of my mother this summer, even when she was not the easiest or most cooperative of patients. Shoutout as well to Juanita, who I checked in with at the security desk most days I went to South. She knew my mom from all the times my mom had visited my dad there. Every day she saw me, Juanita told me to wish my mom well.

Thank you to Natalie, Paola, Candice, Marta, Alfredo, Delys, and everyone else taking care of my dad at his ALF. Their patience, understanding, commitment to care, and support has allowed my sister and me to focus more on our mother’s well-being and not worry as much about our dad.

Thank you to Monte, who connected me and my sister with my dad’s ALF, and who was accessible and helpful even over the July 4th holiday weekend.

Thank you to John Mayer, whose SiriusXM channel “Life with John Mayer” was the soundtrack when I was driving back and forth between hospitals and facilities and home this summer.

Thank you to Anderson Cooper, whose All There Is podcast is an often difficult but truly worthwhile listen that’s helped me to pre-process a bit of my eventual grief.

Thank you to Ryan at Vignetos (now One Italian Grill); Diane, the pharmacist at CVS; Ina at Publix; and other folks who always take such good care of my mom and dad, and who would tell me and my sister that they missed seeing our parents come in and hoped they were getting better. Special shoutout to Jodey at Hairventure, who missed seeing my mom so much that she came to our house one Saturday morning to do my mom’s hair for the first time in more than three months, and in doing so, brought my mom back to life in a big way.

Thank you to my employer, RAIN Group, and my ability to work from anywhere. Also, a huge thank you to my coworkers, who have been patient, flexible, and understanding of my situation.

Thank you to those friends who have checked in with me often, let me just download about what was going on, and made sure I was doing alright. I haven’t had a whole lot else to talk about lately other than my parents’ condition, but that hasn’t mattered. I appreciate having friends who care.

Thank you to the Jewish National Fund and everyone who was on my Israel trip back in June. (Feels like a lifetime ago.) Even with everything going on in Florida at the time, I’m so glad I was able to have that experience. When everything with my folks stabilizes, I intend to talk about my trip a lot more.

Thank you to my brother-in-law, Jason, not only for going down to Florida right away that last week in June to help my sister and my niece, and my parents, but for taking me with my nephews to Universal Studios in Orlando earlier this month as a birthday gift — and a much needed break from reality.

Most importantly, thank you to Mitzi, my sister, the yin to my yang, who does things I can’t, who was in the shit when I was out of the country and who was there by herself at what was probably my mother’s lowest point over the summer, who encourages me to take care of myself, who pushes me to not give in to my more indulgent and unproductive caregiving impulses, and who enjoys a good “Treat Yo Self Night” after a tough day as much as I do. I couldn’t do this all by myself, and we still have a lot ahead of us, so I’m glad I have her as a partner on this most difficult journey.

If you know me, or you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know I’m a fan of perspective. As part of my self-care, I’ve been trying to remind myself of just how lucky I am: That I have parents I want to take care of, that I have a job that allows me to do so, that I can afford to do so, and that I can do it. A lot of people can’t say the same. Yes, I’ve been neglecting my own life this year, and I haven’t been able to do a lot of things I enjoy. But that’s how it is. Sometimes you do what you have to do. I have no regrets about any of it.

No matter your circumstances, I hope you, too, have much to be thankful for this year and are able to celebrate the holiday with those you love.

Happy Thanksgiving.