‘… extra tasks do not always translate into extra work, especially if your tasks are done out of love.’
YEARS ago, my father decided he didn’t want to live in Canada for the rest of his life. Before they retired from UP
Manila, he and my mother had been the subject of a petition by my brother and sister-in-law, and this came through.
But when my mother died in 1993 – a few years short of retirement – part of the reason why they wanted to move to Canada disappeared, since State-funded health care was one of the major considerations, equal to my mother’s desire to spend her post-retirement years taking care of her one and only “apo,” Joanna.
And so when my father trooped over to the Canadian Embassy in Manila to tell them he was giving up his permanent residency and opting instead for a regular tourist visa, the Embassy staffers were surprised.
Actually, he had surprised me earlier by informing me of his decision, and my surprise came from the fact that he didn’t have to tell me as he was old enough – ha-ha – to decide things on his own. But he explained nevertheless: in Canada, he said, a lot of the healthcare costs would have been borne by the Canadian government; “back home I will be more of your charge.” Oh, I thought, is he assuming too much about me? Ha-ha. But then I simply said, “No worries.”
And indeed, that’s how things came to be.
So I know what it feels like to share a home with a senior –especially my housemate who is moving into his 9th decade. Whereas before your housemate could be relied on to do things on his own without you having to worry about stuff like spilling the food, needing a diaper, bumping into furniture, not hearing when you call, or even not recognizing who you are (!!!), when your housemate reaches a certain stage of aging all these changes.
The good thing is that they sleep a lot. Once in a while when I’m doing something like reading, dressing up, or watching Bloomberg, I sneak a peek to see how everything is. And it’s great to see your senior fast asleep – though there have been times, I must admit, when I had to take a second look to watch out if he is breathing.
I am also more conscious of what food to take home. Ours are tough to chew on, for obvious reasons. And I am also conscious of the bodily functions that having a meal can trigger. And yes, that means being ready to help clean up during those once-in-a-while moments when the urge to go overwhelms before the senior is at the right place. if you get my drift.
But my father prepared me for this. He warned me that as age caught up with him, I’d be doing more housemaid stuff than ever before. Then again, I guess that’s life, yes? And deep down, it’s also the best way someone in my shoes can “repay” all the love, care and attention that had been showered on me.
To say thank you now that it still matters. And to be there until the last breath.
Never mind that these days my senior is my 16-year-old Shihtzu named Hayden, born in the year of Careless Whisper, now too slow, and half-blind to do a sexy dance. He still hears me when I call, but looks every which way instead of straight ahead where I am. He doesn’t see my hand when I try to pat him so he immediately recoils before he relaxes. Sometimes, he misses his food bowl (though never his water bowl!). And yes, now he has to wear a diaper, as I will too, maybe, someday.
Living with and taking care of a senior – even if a pet rather than a blood relative – means extra tasks. But extra tasks do not always translate into extra work, especially if your tasks are done out of love. Then it becomes a fulfilling effort you look forward to doing.
Exactly what my father prepared me for!