Role Reversal

My dad is in the last part of his life. It's hard to write those words, but it's true. He just turned 89 and his health has been a struggle. For a man who has always lived his life with unabashed independence and on his own terms this new reality is incredibly frustrating for him.

To say he's lucky to have my mom is probably the greatest understatement in the history of humankind. She has shown amazing patience and love throughout this whole experience. We joke she's not an angel, but actually Jesus. I am grateful that I can be of some help for her with Dad.

But helping a parent at this level brings with it a strange, unnerving role reversal in which the child often has to act more like the parent than either person is comfortable with. The pain of watching him struggle to do what used to be second nature, married to his angry frustration at how I do it, pushes my patience to its limit and back.  

Every medical decision is now run by me first - even, in my opinion, the most obvious.  Sometimes, the little boy in me - the kid who worshiped his father - wants to scream, "What if I'm wrong? What makes you think I know what the hell I'm doing?" And then at other times, the almost 50-year old man with kids of his own comes through with a clear, "You two were always tight. He trusts you like no one else."

The other day, I was speaking with his palliative care nurse about how frustrating this whole situation is for everyone involved, how he can't quite let go the control that would make life for everyone else so much easier. Without hesitating, she asked me if I can imagine how frustrating it will be for my boys, should I find myself in a similar situation as my dad's.  

I told her I'm going to be completely cooperative and do whatever they say without question. She burst out laughing and told me, "You and your dad are exactly alike. That's why it's so frustrating. But also why it works."