My mother has Alzheimer's disease and lives in a personal care home in Mississippi. This nice column reminds me of her requests of my sister and me for when she was in a nursing home one day: to be surround by soft things and to have her chin hairs kept at bay!
1
How wonderful that you are able to share with such eloquence the love and tender care you gave your mother. It brought me to tears, as I did the same for my mom, but alas was not there to hold her hand at the end. I know, though, that she left peacefully in the night at the nursing home, finally free. With this piece you have shown us daughters how to frame, or reframe, this experience as the sacred phase of life that it is. Excruciating, yet so very beautiful. Thank you.
6
I'm 85 - live in an assisted care facility - the only one who is concerned about my Chin Hairs other than myself is my hairdresser. Always have a hairdresser - Nose Hairs are more unsightly and she does those too. Professional and/or personal caregivers are concerned with your meds, your hygiene, your diet and your bodily functions. Chin Hairs - who has time for that??? and who cares???? You do! and your hairdresser.
3
I haven't seen this topic written anywhere else with as much sincerity, humanity, and beauty. Thank you.
7
The director of the facility where my mother lived told me of tending another lady for whom death was imminent and who was unhappy about her chin hairs. "I can take care of that for you", the director said. "Oh no," said the lady cheerfully. "The funeral home does such a good job!"
3
Incredibly beautiful. Even with helpers it is so much to take good care and to stay connected. Bless us all as we try to do the right thing.
23
A beautiful and tender story. My immediate thoughts were: What a wonderful daughter you are, how fortunate your Mom was to have such loving care at the end of her life....and I wish the same for all of us when that time comes. Bless you.
26
Beautiful. Tender. Sincere. Thought-provoking. Gut-wrenching. Brought back memories and tear. I miss my mother so very, very much. Thank you.
15
What a wonderful daughter you are. Thanks for sharing this love story.
15
My mother is in the nursing home with Alzheimer’s. Sometimes during visits I see the sprout happen on the chin and I run for the razor and take it off.. zip... zip! Then laughing to myself I think. ... this is the least of her problems! But I know she would be mortified if she knew it was visible.. I would be! Alas.. it is the only thing I can fix for her...and I do.
13
Thank you for your thoughtful writing. It reminds me to find the love, patience, and compassion I sometimes sorely lack with my ailing father.
12
How very, very kind this daughter was to her Mother.
14
I’m not crying, you’re crying. What a tender and beautiful piece.
3
This article took me back to the 1980s, to being the plucker of my grandmother’s chin hairs and stray eyebrows. She too always thanked me, each and every time. My mom died before needing these services, and now that I am a grandmother myself, I’ve secured a promise from my youngest daughter to keep me presentable.
What a lovely piece of writing—thank you for sharing.
5
What a beautiful and tender relationship you had with your mother. She was so blessed to have you caring so intimately for her at the end of her life. You are a role model for us, daughters and caregivers of our aging parents.
15
Seldom do we see love so candidly, poignantly described. Thank you for this beautiful, evocative piece.
My sister and I are on this journey with my mom, and she is still able at this point to care for her own hygiene and grooming herslf. As Suzanne's mother felt, so my mother feels that her appearance to the world is a bulwark against the ravages of aging, and a measure of her dignity.
This is a picture of our future. I am grateful for the roadmap, and hope we can continue to accompany our mom to the end as courageously and tenderly as Suzanne did hers.
11
Beautiful and perceptive. I cared for my mother during the last year of her life, not in the extremely intimate ways described here, but for hours almost every day as her dementia progressed. I was there at her transition from life to death. This article evoked that experience. I wanted to share it with my friends, but I realized that they would be disturbed, maybe even frightened. To me it speaks of peace.
17
Simply beautiful and heart breaking! But my God, is it ever life affirming- and, ahemmmm, love affirming.
11
Thank you for this beautiful piece of writing.
8
Beautiful. I miss my mother and my grandmother and I am scared...
15
How utterly beautiful! I like to believe that such generosity of love is more common than we think. My day is better for reading this lovely piece.
18
Tears flowing as I read this beautiful story and reminder of my mom. As a younger post menopause Woman she’d sit by the window plucking her chin. The light was better there. She’d remind me that when she was older not to let the hair grow. And we didn’t. My sister and I helped with that and other needs along with her aides. My mom never forgot to say thank you. And when I’d get ready to leave for my drive back to Baltimore she’d never forget to say Drive Safely. ❤️
18
You've reminded me how terribly I miss my mom.
18
My mother passed away last August, just two weeks before her 98th birthday. Though much of her conscious thought had recently been lost to detention and her eyesight lost to macular degeneration, she remained concerned about chin hairs and well manicured nails. Even after she lost her eyesight, she could apply her makeup from memory and color within the lines. Thank you for a lovely sentiment and memory of your mother.
8
As I read your beautiful piece I sit next to my mother 83 who has used at least 8 of her 9 lives. As a registered nurse I have begun to feel that my early observations have been what's keeping her here. I found the courage to ask her if she was done fighting and wishef for hospice care. She assured me they were not ready for her which is a total mom amswer for I'm not ready to go. So I will love &care for her as long as we are together. Roles reversed but love all the same. Thank you.
14
Thank you for this lovely and poignant story. My father lived with us until his death and I became his caretaker. But the thing This reminds me of, is my mother asking me to make sure she always had eyebrows. How fortunate for both you and your mother that you had this relationship.
5
Thank you for such a beautiful story. It made me weep and think of my grandmother. She lived with our family after my grandfather passed away. I remember coming home from college and she would always ask me to trim her chin hairs and clip her toe nails. The thank you in the story melted my heart because my grandmother would do the same thing. The young me just remembered it not being a big deal, but I know my grandmother was very grateful. Now, the 56 year old me is so grateful I had those moments!
10
What a beautiful and accurate description of being caretaker of your parents. I laughed out loud at the poetic and nonsensical statements your Mom made. My Dad also said similar things, and it was hard sometimes to keep a straight face, but we always knew what he meant. I love all the respect and honor that comes shining through, bless you for sharing. I think this part of the circle of life needs to be shown more often, and shown for the gifts it brings.
17
A lovely piece. I’m so happy none of the comments I read defended chin hairs. I half expected it.
3
My mom made me promise the same thing. This is a treasure.
8
I could have written this piece myself but not as poignant and beautiful. My experience of taking care of my mother's chin hairs brought laughter and the orders I have give my children the same. My grown daughter sent the piece to her daughter. We all have the curse of facial hair and it worries us all constantly. More important it brought back the caregiver responsibility of taking care of my mom in her final 5 years. We all loved her dearly and miss her humor still today 9.5 years after her passing.
10
You brought tears to my eyes as I was reminded of the myriad aspects of my mother’s daily routines. While the hair on her chin was not her concern, getting lotion between her toes was so important to her. It’s been a year since she passed and not a day goes by when I don’t think about her. And as you beautifully describe, that most intimate of caregiving “ritual” has given me solace.
11
Thank you for sharing this story. Very touching and painfully honest.
12
This brought tears to my eyes. Beautiful.
6
Beautiful, honest and touching story.
7
What a touching story, thank you Suzanne Matson for sharing such a personal and intimate tale of love, caring and dying. It was good to share a few smiles and jokes of death and dying with you. It reminded me of the passing of my family members: first my father (always a distant and reserved man), then mother (three years 'in the looney bin' as she liked to call her care facility; she was mentally intact but most of her fellow residents were not), older brother (semi-distant to the end but he got a great kick out of 'exceeding his pull date' with hospice services for 17 months) and my wife (it all went so fast, a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle on Sunday, I can't balance the checkbook on Monday, in-home health aide on Tuesday, Hospice house on Wednesday, and all over before midnight). I was not always able to provide as much care and attention as you did but I can relate to many of your duties. Caring for my wife was the most difficult and recent. I am sure my turn is coming soon, I hope my daughter is able to provide some of the love and attention you so generously gave to your mother.
21
This is so beautiful and touched me deeply. I lived six states away from my mother when she got sick. I was only able to have this kind of intimate relationship with her for a short time when I went back home to help my parents move closer to me. I was dreaming of being able to take care of her only the way a daughter can take care of her mother. Sadly, she passed shortly after the move. I was able to take care of my father before his condition required more assistance than I could give. Whether it was his steadfast independence or anger at his failing mind and body, he was never able to let me get closer to him in his final years. This piece brought back all of those dreams I had for my mother and me which never turned into reality. Thank you for sharing your experience. This brought me joy as we are approaching the 14 year anniversary of her death.
7
Beautiful, I felt as if this was my narrative with my own mother who is gone for 17 years. Thank you for sharing these moments, they are particularly poignant for me this time of year.
6
Thank you for writing this piece. It brought me so much peace and love to know about your mother’s end of life experience with you. I feel so lucky to have gotten your insight into that unknown phase of life.
3
Thank you. You made me cry, both for my mother, now gone, myself, and my daughter, those ties that bind always.
3
What a beautiful essay. The love you showed your mother was particularly poignant for me since my daughter has estranged herself from me.
9
What a beautiful, loving story of caring for your mother. I was touched that she appreciated you to the end. I understand the torture of the chin hairs. No matter how old we get, we still want to put our best selves forward.
When vascular dementia claimed my father, I was not as fortunate. His paranoia was aimed at me, just as his anger had been earlier in life. Still, though he was in assisted living and well-cared for by staff and his granddaughter who worked there, I spent at least 3 months a year nearby, leaving my home 800 miles away to spend time with him to the extent that I could, while protecting myself from the nastier of his barbs.
I'm also the one who eulogized my father, the others being unwilling or unable to do so. Since he had lived in the same town for more than 60 of his 97 years, I shared how he taught me about life through example, when he was younger and healthier and more loving toward me.
Thanks for bringing me back to those times through your own memories.
14
Yes!...Thank you for telling us your, your love of your mother and what you did for her, those private things...Tears came to my eyes, on the final lines...Thank you and may you live happily.
7
Thank you, Suzanne Matson, for sharing this touching, intimate, quietly powerful piece.
Your parents, your mother raised a supremely loving and compassionate daughter.
12
What a touching and deeply human story this is. Thank you, Suzanne Matson, for sharing this with us. Your mother was blessed with a devoted and loving daughter to the end, and she knew it.
10
Here is the chin hair secret: before you turn gray get them lasered out. Worth every penny. Some have come back. Most have stayed gone. Did my underarms too. I’m a swimmer! But you need the hair tone dark. Go to a dermatologist!
4
What a wonderful daughter you are.
5
Lovely piece. Thank you.
3
So moving that you are able to express your thoughts on paper. I too was the primary caretaker for both my mom and dad. Even when they both ended up in a nursing home , I picked up the care where the nurses left off. Helping my mom take care of herself, including her most persistent chin hairs. My dad had vascular dementia and only recognized me (I’m one of 4 children) and his personal aide at the end. He had a mixture of meds but they did not allow medical marijuana, I wish they had as I know it would of helped ease this horrible disease for him. It is physically and mentally exhausting to be a caretaker to your elderly parents. However, I am at peace with myself knowing I did all I could for them both.
13
@Susan...my wife suffered with pain, I didn't know where to get medical marijuana...her doctors gave her pills which would stop working...when I visited I would bring her a secret pill that the doctors would not prescribe.
5
@Susan
I wondered when nursing homes would be able to dispense medical marijuana to residents, since Medicare/Medicaid are federally funded programs and each state has different regulations. A lot of these residents could benefit from it, and it would reduce the dependency on other medications. Hopefully, we’ll get legislation passed that legalizes medical marijuana for all Americans.
3
Thank you for sharing and this beautiful piece of writing.
4
Thank you for sharing with us. You and she were lucky to have each other. The end is never forgotten.
6
If you’re a skillful caretaker, then visitors will remark on how well the person seems to be doing—in spite of everything you’ve told them about the person’s condition. But if they show up unannounced, they may well find that this is indeed a bad time, as you are up to your elbows in attending to the patient’s surprise bowel movement.
You have to find humor in being a caretaker, if you can’t find poetry in the responsibilities.
11
I wish I had been given the opportunity to care for my mother's body. She died suddenly after a "routine" surgery 3 months before I turned 30. She is gone 15 years and I like to think that I would have been able to do what the author speaks of so eloquently.
I miss her every single day.
16
So sad and yet so real. We all have fears of being the bearded old lady. Sigh..
20
The gifts of a writer come in two parts. First, the ability to sort and analyze the events and emotions. And second, to find the words that convey them. This extraordinary piece lulls you with the ordinary - those chin hairs that become the enemy of so many women. And if you take the word “ordinary” to mean “common, everyday, usual” then so many of the sentences convey the ordinary - the shape of an earlobe, the changes age imparts to the shape of an underarm, and how years of standing and walking bond the toes into a unit. But the love is extraordinary. And to my mind, the most lovely of all is the connection between the love of a mother for her infant sons and the love of a daughter for her aging mother. How true - it is the complexities of our armor of skin that is at the root of so much of the intimate care - the folds that need drying, the spots that need moisturizing, and the chin that needs tending.
47
Beautiful sentiments, skillfully expressed. Thank you, Ms. Matson, for this lovely piece of writing.
37
I am also the keeper of the electric razor ( replacing tweezers which became too painful) for the ritual elimination of my mother's chin hairs. In this odd way we bond without having to speak.
6
Ms. Matson: I am so sorry for the lost of your mom.
I know you did the best you could and more than most people can or are willing to do. (I do wonder what kind of nursing home did not BATHE your mother on a regular basis!)
I was heartened to see your mom got medical marijuana. That is not done anywhere in my state that I know of, and yet there is no population that would benefit from it more -- most very senior and dementia-ridden patients are not eating well, and suffer from weight loss and weakness that leads directly to falls and broken hips! not only would medical marijuana soothe such folks, but give them increased appetite. It seems like a win-win situation yet it is rarely done -- in fact, I think in most states, you would get in pretty serious trouble giving pot to a 90 year old in a nursing home!
As far as chin hairs: I've known a few myself. I am surprised you did not investigate something like laser hair removal vs. shaving. Shaving only works for a day, at most.
7
Amazing how many people just plop their parents in a home and think they're being great children because they visit once a week. I have 3 brothers and when it came time to take care of elderly parents suddenly I was a only child. One brother demanded his "share" of what little money they left. His horrible wife, that I have never met actually called the police, they laughed at her. Fortunately I had power of attorney and cut him out of the will.
31
My mother passed away last year at the age of 64. For as long as I can remember, she would (half) joke that I would need to take care of her chin hairs when she became an old lady and couldn't do it herself anymore. She was always meticulous about personal care and tried various methods to permanently eradicate those pesky hairs, but they always found their way back.
When she was in the final two weeks of her life, she was unable to lift her left arm due to disease progression. She sheepishly handed me an electric hair remover and asked me to take care of the hairs under that arm. She looked like she wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole with having to make that request of her daughter. For the rest of my life, I will hold on to the memory of both of us laughing so hard that we cried while I removed those hairs for the first and last time. I'm thankful I was able to do that for her, in the privacy of her home with just the two of us there, and that she felt comfortable enough to trust me with such a task.
32
You people that care for your moms like Suzanne are wonderful angels. I will never be that kind of daughter to my mother. I love her more than anything, but I can't deal with the icky specifics of her personal care should she ever get to that stage. I will hope that my financial situation will allow me to hire a nice in-home caregiver to tend to her needs at that time. I started life as a Catholic, so, yeah, I'm feeling guilty for something that hasn't happened yet, but I am also awed by your actions and honoring of your moms.
24
@Hat Trick... it was no easy task, each night I'd ask to wake with more patience, more love and strength. I respect a person who knows within their core that it is not a role they are able to rise to meet. I broke more than once, was not my best self only a few times but deeply regret speaking to my mother unkindly or curtly. I am only human, I did my best for 5 years and will never regret the time I had with her. It was the least I could do for her.
24
You might be surprised, if and when push comes to shove, at the love that such caring brings out of you. It becomes easy, especially if someone gives you some tips on how best to manage, say, a bath. I suggest trying something simple, like washing her hands or feet, before you hire someone. And just see how it makes you feel.
13
@Patricia Goodson
Couldn’t agree more as I find myself at my mother’s bedside washing her in what may prove to be her final week. It indeed becomes easier with time and is one of the few things that causes her to look at me and smile.
8
Beautiful
10
I commend you. Your mother birthed you into the world and you birthed her out, into the next world. This is a story of love and selflessness.
Many of us fear the indignities of old age - incontinence, smelling bad, not being able to keep up with grooming in ways that comport with our self-image. I asked my dignified father’s doctor why he was wetting himself and just sitting there. The doctor said that elderly people sometimes lose awareness of those things! That horrified me in advance of my own aging.
For you to have promised your mother to make sure she looked the best she could must have relieved her greatly. I have told my sister that I always want to be impeccably clean and sprayed with perfume.
Having said all this, not everyone is up to the nitty-gritty of care-taking elderly parents - especially the bathing and toileting duties. When my mother was in hospice at home, we had a sitter who lovingly handled that, but I still saw my mother’s body in ways that traumatized me. Those images still haunt me. For me, it was an upsetting boundary violation. It doesn’t make me or anyone else “wrong” that we find those things distressing.
I want to make sure that readers know that the writer’s way of handling parental elder-care isn’t a “should!” And of course many adult children don’t have the ability to hire someone to do the bathing and toileting. Bless you - truly.
I was with both parents at the moment of death. It was a profound privilege.
43
Powerful and poignant. Thank you for this piece. I will send it to my half-sister, who has been tasked, by virtue of being the only one left in the vicinity of our childhood home, with caring for my step-mother. My sister calls once a week with the latest health and mental report on my step-mother, and it is never good. I am in awe of what my sister does, on a daily basis, and I regret that I cannot help beyond the financial support I provide - my help is miniscule compared to hers. God bless you for your selfless work, and for sharing your story.
24
Your lovely tribute to your mom deftly shows the love-laced path to the end of the parent’s life. Those darn chin hairs! How often have I wondered who would tweeze mine in the waning years?
My sister and I took the lead as our mom morphed from a feisty woman to a meek wheelchair-ridden person. To the end, she maintained her love of music and her wish to sport a beautiful salon hairdo.
Thank you for capturing the parade of time so beautifully.
23
This is so beautiful. It is a shame that all children don't get involved with their parents care and demise. I did this for both of mine. It truly humbled me.
8
Beautifully written, thank you!
9
I am overwhelmed by Ms. Matson's essay. The fourth paragraph down described almost exactly how I took care of my mother at home, before she entered the Nursing Home. The cleaning of the toes, the ears, underarms, etc.; it was what I had done. I'm not good at at visiting my mother as frequently as I should (past unresolved issues). Then I feel guilt. About what? The Hairs. So, I go and find my mother's sprouted beard. I pluck and pluck until her chin is smooth. Afterward, she runs her finger around her chin and says "here, you missed one". I file her nails down with an emery board - not an easy thing, when her hands are crooked and stiff from Parkinson's. This is the one thing I will carry with me long after she is gone; that I took care of her hairs.
I salute you Suzanne, and all caretakers. I believe you will be Blessed for what you are doing.
21
In the end, compassion is what means most. Love for each other. No matter how mundane, how hard, how intimate. Bookmarked for future.
17
The chin hairs are the things you can (sort of) control. The rest can be a nightmare and the little distraction that a good pair of tweezers can supply is priceless. Your mother was a lucky woman.
11
I have no children, but I have a niece who cared for her mother (my only sister) for years as her body deteriorated. My sister finally took herself off dialysis to free my niece to live her own life. They were both brave. I do not want anyone to care for me in those intimate and complex ways. I fervently hope that as my time nears, whether from age or illness, that I will be able will find a way for that to not be necessary.
24
My brother and I cared for my father in those ways, in those days. At 88 he broke his hip, a common mishap for the aged. The operation was a success, but the patient died, as they say. After the physical therapists couldn’t get him moving after surgery, we brought him home and we cared for him for months as he slid slowly away. He was tired. He was through. The hospice nurse filled out the cause of death as ‘Failure to Thrive’. He died attended by his wife of 64 years, his two adult sons, two grandsons and his dog. All things said, it was a good death.
I’m 72, now, and relatively healthy, but have Parkinson’s Disease. I have no children. I get by with a little help from my friends, for now. Later on, I won’t be able to take care of myself. I’m not certain what will happen. I hope it’s not too bad.
This piece brings all that stuff up. Sorry.
59
@Richard Ray Hoping the best for you! I play tennis with an 87 year old man with Parkinson's who still plays well enough to win against younger people because he knows how to place his shots and can move well enough. He can only play for an hour and a half, and sometimes I see him shaking if his medication needs adjusting. We play in a round robin where there is no commitment to show up, but he is there fairly regularly. I'm hoping this is encouraging for you. He said he had no idea once he got his diagnosis how the disease would progress, so he just takes it one day at a time.
18
Very moving essay. My mother is in the middle stages of dementia. And her rapid deterioration and increasing fragility sometimes frighten me. However, I hope that I can care for her with as much love, compassion and tenderness that you’ve obviously shown to your beloved mother. Thank you.
19
Lovely article. I am teaching nursing students in their first clinical experience which is in Personal Care Homes and I will share this article with them. They are learning about personhood and holistic care and, as young women and men, have had no experience touching and caring for old people who must depend on others to provide them with this intimate level of care.
15
When I became an RN at 39 years of age, an instructor told me there was something wrong with me because I wanted to be a geriatric caregiver! After 10 years of nursing I became disabled, and spent the next 10 years caring for my mom, dad, and my husband until their deaths. Now I am 75 and hoping I find the caring that I gave them when it is my turn!
Thank you. I cared for my father-in-law in all those intimate ways and cared for my father as well. It was one of the things I treasure about those last months, although also one of the hardest.
19
After several tries, I finished reading this essay. It felt too personal, too real.
It revealed realities our society ( western, and particularly American) has a difficult time coming to terms with: old age, death, and the squeamishness it feels when confronted with the physical needs of the body, and the emotional toll on the caregiver and the patient, as it deteriorates with age.
In a society obsessed with youth, with beauty, with images of antiseptic, carefully staged lives; dressing, brushing, cleaning the bodies of our elderly kin, comes as a rude awakening to what it really means to love someone.
As the author has shown us here, we must accept our responsibility; with pride, sensibility, patience, care, and compassion; with love.
"The world is coming for us" Inevitably, all of us, will come face-to-face with it.
72
Poignant and sweet story.
I have a theory that the "paranoia" that comes up in old age are actually the compartmentalized unprocessed fears that we experienced or saw and feared might happen to us during our lives coming up because we can no longer keep that compartment closed off.
18
Thank you for this heartbreaking piece which evokes my own memories of losing my mother. My brother and I were privileged to hold my mother's hands as she died, while my other brother and my sister tried desperately to get there in time. The kind hospice nurse showed me how to wash my mom's body, reminding me that this had always been a task for the daughter. I have always been grateful for these gifts. Mom's illness and death, 15 years past, is always as fresh to me as if it were yesterday.
37
This is so beautifully written. It reminded me so much of when I was taking care of my own mother, and how being involved so intimately with her care, and watching her slowly fall apart, affected me. Your mother was so fortunate to have your loving and devoted care and have you be there for her until the end.
42
This is one of the most beautiful mother/daughter pieces I have ever read. My mother died a month before her 94th birthday; she could not face another winter. I will share this piece with my friends and with my oldest daughter who has already started to critique my chin hairs if I miss one or three.
46
You are the best of Daughters, the glue that holds our Families and Society together. Simply gorgeous, thank you.
47
Thank you for putting to words the last three years of my mother's life and the love we shared.
20
At a time when empathy is in short supply, it brings tears to my eyes to read an essay brimming with love and empathy. So many people are horrified by aging and death that they cannot see beyond their own fears to truly love and care for the elderly. We will all be old some day. We should all be as lucky to have children who will love and care for us in our diminished states.
59
You are braver than I am. My mother is heading to 90, and lives in a close by nursing home.
The nurses and aides take good care of her, and I visit two or three times a week. She has completely given up on her own personal grooming.
Yes, she has hairs on her chin, sagging breasts, recurring fungus outbreaks.
I cannot bring myself to cross that line. My mother was a beautiful (I mean, really beautiful) woman. A vibrant being who had an important career, long before it was fashionable or even acceptable for women to work in the professional world.
I leave it to the aides to clean her backside, make sure her private bits are clean, and brush her teeth.
I’m glad she’s still here, but I sincerely hope I die before I reach that point.
54
@David G Thank you for your honesty. Cleaning an aging parent is hard. It all comes full circle when we were babies.
6
@David G - David, don’t be hard on yourself. I don’t think what you reference is a son’s “JOB.” You are fortunate enough that you can get your mother’s hygiene needs tended to by professionals. For you, it is a line not to be crossed and probably, if she could, your beautiful mother would tell you she wouldn’t want you to cross it. Sounds like you are a good son.
18
My 95y/o mom lies before me now, dying (dementia) with her rattling breath. I give her a bit of morphine to ease her breathing. The hospice nurse will be here soon, visiting everyday now. It is not easy seeing my mom die but she is home. We did not want her to die in a hospital. We were blessed with a 24/7 caregiver, devoted to my mom. I thank God for our CG, a women who grew to love mom. Now we just gather, to help, to watch and wait. I don’t know what my own death will look like but I’m too preoccupied by living currently. I Pluck my own chin hairs and sometimes wonder who will pluck mine.
51
Your beautiful tribute to you mom proves that true love has no boundaries. Thank you for elevating the human condition even in its demise.
31
that is a lovely story. unfortunately not all of us are possessed of the love and compassion that this writer showed. I have a sister who is descending into dementia. she is incredibly difficult to deal with as she is still fighting against any good advice given to her. she is not an easy person to love. would that everyone could have the same experience that this writer had. sadly, it doesn't happen that way.
28
Thank you for this beautiful memoir. If there's a heaven, you have a place in it. I could not do for my mother everything that you did (though I did trim her chin hairs with a little eyebrow razor). I lived with my regrets during her final weeks in hospice, where they were so much better at caring for her than I ever could be. All I could do then was sit at her bedside every evening after work and talk to her and play her favorite movies and music, hoping she could hear me.
27
This is lovely. I cried my eyes out reading the comments. My sister, father, and I were my mother's caretakers until the end. This essay brought back all of the pain and beauty of that time.
One day after showering her I wrapped her tiny body in a towel. Although she could barely speak any more, she managed to say, "you are so kind to me". I replied, "you are my little mommy and I love you". We hugged and cried. It was the most beautiful moment of my life.
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KateS
I took care of my mother for two years. Your comment about the shower made me cry. My mother, a really gentle and kind person, would thank me after every shower and say that I had `refreshed’ her. The fragrance of her bath products bring me to tears, even now, a month after her passing.
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@KateS
@KateS
Bless you, Kate. As others have stated, your words to your mother "you are my little mommy and I love you" brought tears to my eyes as well. It not only reminded me of caring for each of my parents in their final years, but of the words spoken by so many parents to their children "you are my little one and I love you!" The circle of life.
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A beautiful story of love and compassion. Thank you for sharing how small acts of kindness fill us with grace. We all struggle with how to beat back the darkness of the current madness. Kindness and small gestures do matter.
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Yes, this piece is lovely and reminds me of the better moments of taking care of my mother. There were harder moments too. But the chin hairs! My mother was an elegant lady, scrupulous about her appearance, even if no one was around to see her but my sister, the other caregivers, and me. But when she was admitted to the hospital with the flu, and after 5 hard days there, the hairs had gotten away from us. I knew she probably was not going to survive, so the night before she died, I ran home and got some small scissors, came back and trimmed them. Tweezers somehow seemed too much. I hope it gave her as much peace as it gave me.
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This is so beautiful. I was my Mom’s caregiver for many years and took care of some of her intimate needs, though not to the level of the writer. I applaud her not handing off all those tasks to aides as my siblings and I did. I felt like a savior when I cut and painted Mom’s toe nails. I have regrets, but would probably do the same thing over again. Sadly, most of us are not cut out for more repulsive requirements of caring for the elderly.
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Thank you for this ... it is beyond beautiful. You described my experience taking care of my mother the last two years of her life. It was a privilege to be able to give back to her some measure of the tender care she’d given me when I was a child.
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If only we all lived on this level....I have no hope of this ever happening to me. I have chosen a much different route- one that will not involve nursing homes or caregivers. This woman knew how lucky she was.
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Thank you for your fine example of being a guardian of the dignity which age and ageism try to steal from our beloved elders, but which those of us who truly love them will always see and honor.
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Two of my siblings and I were lucky enough and free enough of other duties to be able to be with our mother for three months on a rotating basis, sometimes overlapping, once she was in hospice care at home. She said that those days, when she could hear the three of us laughing and talking in the kitchen, were the happiest days of her life. Maybe a bit of well meaning hyperbole, but we three felt the same. I treasure having been able to return the care she gave us.
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Thank you for this beautiful piece. My Mom passed away a month ago. My Husband and I took care of her in our home for three years. She had dementia and was confined to a wheelchair. We tried to give her a good life. She watched the birds at the feeder and loved to have our cats on her lap. She got a level of love and care that would not have been available in a nursing home. I too took care of her intimacies and learned all the nooks and crannies of the body that bore me. It was insanely stressful and difficult, it completely took over our lives. It brought me to the end of myself, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
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After turning 80,my mother was is need of "the works". Toe nails, chin fur, moisturizing her legs, picking clothes out and meals. I was lucky to have her living in our home for her last 5 years. We had the chin hair talk often, I would be vigilant in keeping it in check. After she passed, my sisters had dreams of her visiting and talking, finding these moments comforting, I receive nothing. We were preparing for her life celebration party and the night before the party, she came into my dream. There she was gazing out my back door that has a full pane of glass, her head was encircled by very bright light. The only words that were spoken were by me.."stay right there, Mom, you're in good light, let me get the twizzers". It was all I needed, just a moment, I still was her caretaker. gladly.
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@Heather C: Beautiful!
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Thank you so much for writing this- really touching article!
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What a beautiful and poetic piece..Suzanne is blessed to have had this experience and her mother is blessed also. In our society today we so often discard the elderly to become someone else's problem. My parents live on a different continent and every year when I see them I brace myself..they are smaller, deafer, more vulnerable..I know the time will come when it will be my turn to be the 'parent' and give them the care the need and deserve.
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Beautiful, moving and sad. Took my breath away too.
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This is lovely; thank you for writing it.
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My step dad died recently at 94. The golden years, it turns out, are not so golden. He lamented daily about his desire to die and end the challenges of very old age.
Had he been a dog, we would have been severely criticized for not putting him down, for allowing him to “suffer”, and yet society tells us that we must, no matter the emotional cost, keep our elerly alive as long as possible. Why?
Death with dignity should be the right of eveyone.
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The problem is only a societal problem to the extant the individual lets it be. Having been the live-in caregiver for my aging parents for the last five and one half years I too have participated in their aging process close up and personal. It started when my father could no longer look after my mother by himself. I, a son, cared for her for the next four years until she passed a slow, unmerciful death softened only by drugs and compassion. Now I look after Dad who is receiving hospice care. I see my task as seeing that their wishes are carried out even if they themselves are no longer able, even if they are different from what I would choose.
No matter how well I do this I know that I would never want to either be in their position or to place anyone else in my position. For me, compassion and drugs are not sufficient salves for the loss of personal dignity and autonomy. Unlike my parents, my choice will be self-deliverance before I can no longer act on my own. Unlike a dog, I can make the choice of when to go myself, without requiring society's acceptance.
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@J Schaffer
I can't help but notice that you're one of the very few sons who actually take care of their aging parents. It's troubling that the guys seem to feel exempt from these personal tasks.
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@J Schaffer
I would like to have the choice to take my own life, too. But my mother and grandmother had strokes. They spent years dying, never smiling, unable to achieve the swift, dignified end they had been clear that they wanted.
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Caring for my Dad at home with Alzheimer's until the very end was a real learning experience. My takeaways were that cleaning the dirty diapers wasn't bad enough to be the threshold for institutionalization. We don't fear babies, how can we fear our elderly so much on this issue? Maybe it's because of what we put in our bodies as adults, which leads to the other takeaway in caring for an elderly person: How much more difficult it must be on all caregivers if a patient is overweight. I hate to bring up what is hindsight for many at this point, but it's one more good reason to try to keep weight off.
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@Alexia
Many overweight people drop dead before they reach the adult diaper stage. And I will just say that changing an adult diaper is an unpleasant duty. Honestly, unless it is your own baby, changing a baby diaper is not fun.
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I've just begun caring for my elderly mother. With a school aged-child and a full time job, it can be, at times, overwhelming. It's also care most often delivered by women. Looking forward and given my current experiences, I would say to similarly situated care givers that you be intentionally mindful of your own care be it spiritual, emotional or physical. Enlist assistance when available (and safe). With that said, indeed, caring for a loved one can be deeply meaningful.
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I was the last to file my mother's nails and pluck the chin hairs. Thank you for this lovely piece.
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This is very similar to my experience with my beloved grandmother who recently passed at age 100. I truly miss taking care of her physical needs and hope my care eased her mind in the last stages of dementia. At one point I was also caring for my granddaughters two days a week and the span of 95 plus years between them put me right in the middle of a 5 generation sandwich, exhausting but magical at the same time.
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@CC
Wow, that is some sandwich! Caring for a grandmother and grandchildren at the same time. Kudos to you and please take care of YOURSELF!!
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Different days of the week...I’m not superwoman!
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thank you for this, it brought me back to my years with my mom when her health was failing, almost 10 yrs ago. I miss her every day still.
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My sentiments exactly. Lovely piece.
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Thank you for this “true” story. Warm rears for breakfast are the best nourishment.
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Just beautiful. May my daughters feel about me as you felt about yours.
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What a lovely piece. Thank you!!
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In times past, elders lived with their families who received and gave care to each other. There were often family members who were not able to care for themselves due to disabilities - mental and physical. The family kept care of their own and male members shared the burden.
Somehow we have forgotten that this was normal and can still be.
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@MGU - Somehow you’ve forgotten that this isn’t always possible. My friend’s grandfather lived with the family until his Alzheimer’s disease advanced to the point that they could no longer keep him safely at home. One day, in the beginning of his illness, he went for a walk and forgot how to get home. Another time he turned on all the burners on the stove because he was cold. Thankfully my friend’s mother was home and discovered this, or the house, with him in it, could have burned down. As the disease advanced his care became more difficult, especially because my friend’s parents both worked out of necessity and weren’t home during the day to watch him. Eventually he deteriorated to such a degree that he had to be moved to a nursing home.
Home care isn’t always safe or feasible, not just for dementia patients but for the frail elderly such as my late grandfather, who had Parkinson’s disease and a plethora of physical issues. Had he not died when he did, he probably would have ended up in a nursing home because his in-home care was becoming too much for my grandma, my dad, and his siblings to handle, even with nursing care during the week. (Since Medicare wouldn’t pay for a nurse to come in on weekends or at night, my dad and his siblings took those shifts. I still remember my dad driving several hours to spend weekends there, and not sleeping because my grandfather would scream in his sleep.) Keeping “care of [your] own” often isn’t possible, so stop sugar coating it.
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@Lindsay K
Both you and @MGU make excellent points. It is important to fully understand why society finds itself where we are, and all of these things are true, about a different past and what is the case now. Two other elements: We now live in a society where the cost of holding body and soul together pressures everyone to work constantly to earn their daily bread. Living standards improve, but also add to pressure - it is often not an acceptable choice to wear shabby clothes or drive an old car, in order to save money for one's old age - not "keeping up" can weaken one's grip on the status requirements of the workplace. Thirty-year mortgages encourage housing prices to be bid up to the point that people cannot/do not save for the time when they will not be able to continue to meet daily living expenses. And, finally, so much economic value can only be earned by workers migrating to "super cities," again where the cost of living takes every dollar, and more. So, families are scattered and stretched and stressed, and cannot provide care for their "own" elderly without visiting financial disaster on themselves.
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@MGU. Somehow we also tend to forget that in times past, far fewer people lived into old age, and far fewer of those experienced dementia. In 1900, average life expectancy was about 40, 50% of children died before the age of five, and by far the majority of deaths (at any age) were from infectious disease. In a world like that, virtually no one lives long enough to become demented--therefore the task of caring for demented elderly loved ones is extraordinarily uncommon.
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I am in a similar circumstance with my 95 year old mother.
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I followed the same path of caring for my mother. It was a great teaching experience that formed my own decisons for the end of my life. I have no children. Years ago I added these lines to my carefully completed FIve Wishes (www.agingwithdignity.org) advance healtcare directive: please clean my chin hairs, put lipstick on my lips, sox on my feet, glasses on my face, classical music in my ears and flowers in my room. Oh yes, and let me die naturally, holding someone's hand.
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Beautiful article.
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we should all be as lucky to have a caretaker as loving as you.
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I can’t tell you how moved I am by your story! What a wonderful person you are. What a loving and inspiring friend you must be. Please keep writing.
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This is just so beautiful and so sad. And so utterly real. Thank you for writing this...
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I, too, cared for my mother in her waning years of dementia, bathing, feeding, moving her physically when she could no longer, and even after her ability to follow commands and speak any words failed her, she would still say "thank you" and smile after acts of loving kindness, such as massaging her hands and forearms, putting lotion onto her face, or rubbing her feet. What a beautiful experience you had with you mother over the year of her decline, and I am so happy for you that it was so meaningful to you both.
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You were a good daughter - far better than I. I have been disturbed, almost repulsed, by dealing with my mother’s physical needs. I know it isn’t right, but it is true. I have only two sons, and they would not want to be bathing me anyway - I am not quite sure who will care for me when I reach this stage, and I suspect that after my reluctance to do it for my mother, I will deserve whatever I get.
My mom does not have dementia, but she does get very confused and frightened- but she is afraid both of living and of dying. It is not necessarily a good thing to let people have so much control over death. She would have died long ago, without medication. I’m not sure she would be sad.
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@E don't punish yourself too much. Your mother would not want you to. All we can do is our best, and if that's getting good care for your Mom--not doing it yourself--so be it. Keep facing forward and trying, for her, to do your best. I've seen both my Mother and my Father leave this earth--I've tried to do my best for them both, but know it wasn't perfect. Your comment that your sons would not want to be bathing you really resonated with me because I've had exactly the same thought myself, about our son. But if my son continues to love me 'til the end, and can help me in any way, I'll be content with that. And, I hope he will too--
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I appreciate your honesty. Not everyone can be the selfless personal care giver. My father could not toilet, bath, or do any physical care for my mother. Brushing her dentures gagged him.
What he did do for 15 years is fought tooth and nail to have the best care he could get her. Either at the hospital or nursing homes she eventually wound up in. He was relentless.
I could pluck chin hairs and brush teeth. Dad was the person lighting bonfires under nursing home administrators to do what was right.
Everyone has their niche. One is not better than the other.
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I remember my mother’s concern over her chin hairs and now that I’m nearing the age she was then, I too have developed an obsession with my own.
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Suzanne,
This essay brought me right back to those long, hard, months as we watched my mom fade away from lung cancer. Credit has to be given to my sister Kathleen for putting her life on hold to come back to the Berkshires from California to stay with my mom. The daughters took turns coming home to provide relief for her as we took on tasks that no child should have to do for their mothers. The boys provided support in other ways as this was a task they could not bare. You remind me how noble it is to do this for mom, no matter how difficult it is. One can never regret it.
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I pray Death with Dignity will be a national reality before my daughters have to endure this burden with me. Support Compassion and Choices!
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Suzzane,
This essay took my breath away. I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing this most-intimate, loving, respectful last phase of your relationship with your mother with all of us.
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My thoughts precisely. Thank you for sharing- your actions were a testament to your love for her.
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@Curious, I performed the same careful acts for my mother, though I planned ahead by going to Nursing School and earning a RN. I softened my acts by working for several years in the local hospital. That schooling and practiced care really aided me and my mother when caring, intimate actions were needed at the end.
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A wonderful piece; written with love. As difficult as it can sometimes be to take care of the ill, the aged, we need to look at it as an honor. It is being truly selfless; it is a type of giving that really comes from the heart.
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@Serena Tripi never will happento me, this loving care. Only a daughter will do this, and only one that has been schooled and has the patience, will and some time.
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