The Caretaker Conundrum

I’m my mother’s caretaker and her only daughter. I have three brothers, all close to my age, and they’ve been really wonderful in this process of caring for Mom more intensely over that past few months. They all live out of state, some farther than others, and all of them have come to spend time with Mom. They’ve provided dinners, helped rearrange furniture, helped sort through things, provided respite for me by spending time with Mom while I shower or nap, and so much more. They’ve ferried nieces and grand nieces & nephews from afar to visit, and any of them would do anything they could to help. I have one daughter (I should have had four more) who would do anything for her grandma, but she’s juggling two young kids and a newish baby of her own right now. I have two sons and a stepson, and they would also do anything they could for their grandma.

The thing my brothers and sons can’t do is help Mom in the bathroom. She is aware enough to hold tight to her pride & dignity as much as she can, and she won’t allow men to help her beyond that bathroom door. But she does need help. So I’m it, 24/7, ’round the clock, unless a hospice aide is here. And that reminds me of this funny, sad, true, brilliant poem by my friend Lindy Obach, first published in The Briar Cliff Review. It's good advice, people.

Have a Daughter

If you don’t have a daughter, you better hope to God you

don’t get sick. You should pray for a quick death,

a car accident, maybe, a blood vessel

bursting in your brain.

Or an easy death, in your warm bed, after 86

healthy, active years.

Sons can deal with that.

Sons can use warm, soothing voices,

and sometimes, sons can make phone calls.

But don’t get sick. Don’t need

someone to wash your soiled pajamas

because a son will not do that.

A son will not swipe deodorant under your weak arms,

a son will not pick up your prescription

of Vagifem. A son will not take off your old bra

and get you in the shower.

Have a daughter. A daughter will curse you,

will scream at you to get your pants on,

will haul you up off the closet floor,

will hate you, will take your face

in her palms and cry, will think it’s easier

if you die.

Have a daughter.

A daughter will splinter open her life

trying to save yours.