Independence Day

Today we are moving my aunt out of assisted living and back into her own place. My son Tim and my nephew Vinny will do the heavy lifting; I will wear the white hat and bark orders. (Funny how things work.) I cannot get back here in time to meet Maggie’s bus so the nurse and a helper will do that. I simply cannot be in two places at once.
There is a term for middle-aged people who have responsibilities for the generations above and below them. I believe it is called the sandwich syndrome or something similar. I have been living that for the past few months. I know there are people who live it in Technicolor every day and the taste I have had in the past few months cannot compare. I tip my hat to those of you juggling both.
As a mom, I have to tend to my kids. My boys need guidance and financial assistance, well within the normal limits for their respective ages. Maggie’s needs are extreme, of course. She needs full time around the clock attendant care as well as someone working full time to manage that care. Often times I fill both roles.
As a daughter, I have to tend to my parents. Except I really don’t because they don’t need it. I lost my dad a few years back, but I am lucky to have a vibrant independent mother who does not need any help. Even if she did, I have six siblings who will share the responsibilities. However, I do have an aunt for whom I am the point person and lately she has needed quite a bit of help. She asked me to do this and I am happy to oblige. I am not doing the day-to-day assistance; rather I am managing her assistance. She is appreciative, which makes it easier, but it is a lot of work. I have a feeling that is going to increase dramatically over the next few months as she tries to reclaim her independence.
I hope that this will be a successful exercise and my aunt will settle back into her life before her fall of a few months back. The physical injuries she sustained in that fall are healed, but these things take their tolls in other ways, especially in an older person. Every misstep is fraught with symbolism and can mean a piece of independence lost. I don’t blame her for wanting her own place back and I hope this transition goes smoothly. With my aunt’s consent, I hired a woman to cook, run errands, take her to the doctor etc, and (hopefully) help make it all work.
The assisted living place has been great. They do everything for her and all the residents and do it with a smile. They also charge through the nose, of course, but they are providing a wonderful service. Nevertheless, she hates it. To my aunt and many others, assisted living is the ultimate symbol of a loss of independence. It is the beginning of the end. Maybe I will change my mind when I get to be that age, but I do not see it that way at all. I think assisted living is actually fostering independence for many people.
Personally, I would LOVE to have my meals prepared, my laundry done and my room cleaned by smiling people. Of course, it would not be symbolic if I decided to live in a place like that. I would not be losing more independence every day; in fact, I would likely have a lot more free time.
I think I am going to open an assisted living facility for my generation with all the sandwiches you can eat. People would likely beat down the doors to get in. It would be a lot easier to take care of the generations above and below us if someone was taking care of us.