My mother has dementia, so when I call her, if I get a call-waiting I ignore it. Hard enough to get a conversation going then to have to switch over to another call–she would not understand.
So yesterday I called at the usual time and as soon as the nurse got her on the phone, I got a call-waiting. I looked to see who it was–my gynecologist. My most recent bone scan was not good–I have the beginnings of osteoporosis, and I had called him for a phone consult. I had to let the call go. But it underlined again, this sandwich generation, this boomer highway I am on. I felt stressed out trying to explain that my mother’s oldest and dearest friend is dead (I have told her numerous times) while being concerned about my own aging, the changes in my body and wanting to talk to my doctor about what I can do.
My mother has terrible osteoporosis which has shrunk her height and created a kyphosis, or dowager’s hump, on her poor dear back. Boomer women and beyond are lucky to know that exercise, calcium and hormones can keep one’s back straight and the lumbar spine intact. My mother’s generation did not have this information. THEY SHOULD HAVE! But that’s the fickelness of life.
My mother’s phone call was short and we hung up. Every time we do, I am devastated by loss–the loss of the real true person she was, the realization that she won’t remember that I called and shared my love, that her brain is less and less facile and dexterous, just like her bones which have cracked and broken.
I called my doctor back and was relieved to get him. I will be on the same pathway as my mother, unless I use all the knowledge, science and medicine that might keep me healthier, longer. And who knows what type of phone calling we will have when I am 94! I don’t want to think about that right now.
Thanks to Google Images