Two weeks ago I received a phone call from my brother telling me that my Dad wasn’t doing very well. I’m twelve plus hours away by car, two flights away by air. As a result making a decision to go to there house doesn’t come lightly. I prefer taking the time out of my normal life and spending the money to visit them when there isn’t a crisis but that luxury has evaded me for more than a decade. I finally told them that they could not come here for visits because my dad’s medical situation is just too precarious. After this phone call and understanding how my dad was failing, I booked a flight and headed to Nebraska.

I arrived later that evening and it was obvious that my parents were in a world of hurt. Along with his regular difficulty, Dad had fallen twice, was battling a severe UTI and struggling to catch his breath. Mom had been holding things together and they had just put a deposit on an assisted living apartment. I went because I wanted to be with them more than because I thought they needed me to be.

A short time after my arrival I was told that they had changed their minds and would not be going into assisted living. Experiencing my dad’s situation in real time, I was blown away. I wondered how they could not stay with that plan after all they had been through over the past two months especially but also the last five years.

The day after I arrived, we went to the emergency room to get my dad’s newly fallen on ankle x-rayed. I made sure to mention his UTI and the Dr had his urine re-tested. It was still nasty after several weeks of treatment. A new antibiotic was prescribed.

It was just a day or two later and his breathing became more and more labored. His strength more and more lost. Mom made an appointment for him to see his family doctor for the breathing difficulties. I took some time and wrote down on paper all of what I had observed had taken place over the summer and dropped the document off to their family doctor. I have long had permission to speak to him.

We arrived and the doctor took extra care to begin a conversation with my parents about their future. He brought up several realities that had required extra care and wanted them to think about all I bit in light of the coming winter. Dad was not amused. Mom was relieved that some besides her was talking about this. Dad just wanted relief for his breathing not a discussion about long term care.

The doctor listened to his lungs and said that they were clear. He told him to continue with his nebulizer treatments. Dad hadn’t used those for several months and Mom didn’t remember that he even had the machine. The doctor assumed he’d been using them daily since prescribing it.

We got home and sought to get the prescription for the Albuterol at CVS but apparently it was submitted without a specific code for Medicare so it was delayed. Thirty six hours later after my mom making three trips to the pharmacy, he finally had it. Had he been in assisted living it would have been right there for him. He also wouldn’t have stopped using it once he’d started. It was beyond frustrating.

I have observed that in general my dad goes into the doctor’s office with his walker and a plethora of health problems but in his mind, he’s just another healthy guy with a cold. He genuinely thinks that he’s mastered his chronic disease and any other difficulties to the point that his health impacts no one else. In many respects he sees himself as immortal and in equally as many respects, he kind of is.

Dad is an 84 year old man with chronic illness and multiple orthopedic issues but because he lives in 2024 with the means to access any and all treatments available to him, he’s outlived many others in similar situations. Though he has been near the finish line multiple times in the last decade, modern medicine and sheer will combined have only reinforced his confidence that death is for suckers and not him.

I left my parent’s home a week ago. While awaiting my flight from Houston to Austin I received a call from my brother telling me that Dad had been hospitalized. The next day my mom called to tell me about it. As she informed me about the situation she also said that after this he would have to be going into care. He is not.

My dad not only lived through that night in the hospital but after IV fluids and a potassium infusion, he was, in his mind, fully restored. His UTI was abated, the potassium had given him the ability to heal and walk again and seriously, what was all that fuss about? Any and all talk of assisted living from anyone is now fully off the table.

I am home now and processing the reality of what I have just been through. I’m just blown away by the idea that because the crisis has come to an end, all is well. Dad says that he is now fine and there is no need to concern ourselves with him. The proverbial elephant in the room seems to now have taken up permanent residence and time goes on.

Here is where my rant begins. I really hate unaddressed elephants in rooms. I’m not a fan of pretense or denial because both seem to always bite hard in the end. This part of me has nothing to do with the fact that I am female but as of multiple encounters last week you would never know that is the case. When I interacted with the system on behalf of my father, it was a given that I just didn’t get how hard this kind of this was for a man. Said over and over by nurses, doctors and even his physical therapist, my mom and I were continually instructed to realize that his denial, his pretenses and his stubbornness were to be coddled because it was hard for him.

It was crystal clear to me that had I been there for my mom, these same people would have encouraged my Dad, my brother and me to explain to her that assisted living was in her best interest and she would just go. There would be no expectation that her resistance wouldn’t be overruled. The reality of her situation would demand it. The sad thing is really that for women in my mom’s generation this would be normal. They are used to being where they’d rather not be because their husband thinks it best. I think it’s likely going to take generations before this will change.

It’s time for me to once again let go of and surrender my parents to their life and their experiences. I will always love them unconditionally. I’ve realized that my future involvement will be limited or nonexistent from here on out as well.