My Dad died last week, a month before turning 90. Please. Hold your comments of sympathy. I’m not writing for that (although I’m sure your intentions are kind). I’m writing to share what I’ve learned and to create discussion that helps us learn from each other.
Dad’s first “small” stroke, at age 72, was the beginning of a slow decline. A diabetic, he periodically lost his balance or fell due to the neuropathy in his feet. He hated and fought this loss. By his mid 80’s, he’d lost his reasoning and ability to hold a real conversation and had trouble walking. In the past 3 years, he was wheel chair bound and demented. (But he could still say, “I love you”, and give you his beaming smile.)
From his first stroke, while seemingly fit, he’d say, “‘Don’t get old”. But getting old wasn’t the problem for them — Mom had severe congestive heart failure from age 74. It was being ill.
Old age didn’t stop my parents from doing things. It was their failing bodies. As is true with all of us living with illness, they each approached this challenge with the same response they brought to the rest of life.
I often wished Mom could have worked until she died. I believe she would have felt better about her increasingly housebound life. Yes, her professional life had been demanding and tiring and it probably wouldn’t have been good to continue as she had. On the other hand, she didn’t feel as good about herself when she stopped working. I wonder, had it been different, would illness have been easier to accept.
Dad, on the other hand, was happy to retire. Work at it’s best was an ego boost but it was also a source of emotional aggravation. He loved just sitting around . The good news was that he ended his life in a facility with plenty of people with whom to talk who didn’t notice if he made no sense. He told his stories and was deeply loved by all.
So what have I learned from watching them die?
The focus of my coaching practice and my writing is on the value of work and why we should push ourselves to keep working even while living with bodies with diminishing capacity. I realize this isn’t true for everyone. But my goal is to give tools and support to those who want the choice — to help them develop their capacity to make this happen.
Work should give us purpose and a sense of being valued for what we can offer. We all need this, whether sick, old or both. It’s not easy to make it happen but I’ve grown increasingly clear that it’s worth putting effort toward creating it. I believe that work has made living with illness an easier experience for me and many others. I also believe it will make growing “old” easier to bear.
What have you learned?
Christina Gombar says
Rosalind — First, my condolences on the loss of your father.
I am always inspired by people who have successful careers, despite dealing with serious chronic illness. But not everyone can swing it. The most many can hope for is a hobby that distracts and fulfills. For others, taking care of home and family — remember when this used to be considered a job –is all they can manage. I think you said your mother had a heart condition — and I forget what her career was, but it probably wasn’t compatible with her health condition.
We can never know how bad an ill person feels. I always have to bite my tongue when I’m in contact with others who share my health condition, and don’t seem to have a life beyond it, whose conversation is limited to describing their symptoms.
My Dad had to retire early with a multiplicity of work/stress related ailments, and boy did he enjoy his retirement! For some, retiring early, even if due to an illness, is merely “rest for the weary.”
Jason Reid says
I sometimes wonder how much of our happiness vis-a-vis work has to do with our personality. I’ve always needed a challenging and interesting job to keep me happy, despite the fact that it has sometimes been rough on my physical health.
Because I have a chronic illness, many people have suggested to me that I take a job that’s secure and predictable. It’s “ideal” for someone with an illness – they’d say.
However, I know those jobs do not suit me and I would be mind-numbingly bored after a while despite their “ideal” nature. I would be emotionally frustrated and my health would suffer. There would be nothing to distract me from the physical pain I feel every day and my feeling of self-worth would probably plummet.
In some ways it seems a curse to be mentally and emotionally driven to high performance while existing in a physical body that doesn’t want to cooperate much of the time. Still, I wonder if this “curse” is the same thing that keeps me as happy as I am.
Monica says
I am thankful that I have found a profession where I can still enjoy the pleasures out of life. I have time with my children, time for professional development, and despite my chronic illness can somewhat still enjoy it. I hate that time goes so fast and am desperately scared of what my illness will come to in the near future. I do not want to succumb to not fulfilling my future career goals and my ideal profession that may require more years to come.