Sandwich Generation musings

So many times, when you read something about people caring for children and parents at the same time, it’s a financial “how-to”, or, list of areas nursing homes, or, agencies. But, sometimes you read something that just “speaks to you”, and, this article titled simply, “The Sandwich Generation” spoke to me, so, I thought I’d share it with you.

The author tells it like it is from a “where the rubber meets the road” perspective.

Sometimes, you’re literally caught between your children, and, your parents, and, there’s nothing you can do.

I have two moments like that stand out in my mind:

The first was a time that my mother was in the hospital, I was there alone (don’t remember where the rest of my family was) with my then 2 year old, and, I walked in her room expecting to see her and my father.

When I came in, my dad wasn’t there, and, she told me that he had gone down to the ER for a nosebleed. He takes blood thinner, so, he’s had some significant problems with them before. One even got his blood pressure down to 30 one time. Yes, thirty.

She leaned toward the anxious in her final years, so, I had to go down to the ER to see what was going on. However, I couldn’t leave the 2 year old with her to go check on him, but, I couldn’t check on him in the ER with the 2 year old.

The other time was when my mother was actively dying, and, I had my youngest (then 4) in the room with me, and, my dad had stepped out. The rest of my family was out of town, and, the 4 year old had reached his limit of hanging around the hospice room.

I was literally holding my dying mother’s hand, and, the preschooler was pulling on me to go to the playroom at the very same time.

Now, that sound all dramatic, but, I actually chuckled to myself, because, at that point, I couldn’t have been a bigger stereotype if I had tried.

But, the first line of the article is the way I knew I could relate:

Initiation into this club usually begins with a phone call.

And, boy does it ever.

Though I didn’t know it at the time, my induction didn’t come with my mother, it was actually my father. He had a heart attack on a Nordic Track about 17 years ago, and, another one 8 months later while running wind sprints with the high school basketball team.

That began with a phone call, and, it was very unexpected, and, thus began my ever anxious relationship with the telephone.