Chapter 2 My fate with my parents

Chapter Two

On the other side of Doctor Peter's big mahogany desk, which was cluttered with paperwork and patient folders, Clara sat beside her parents. Her mood was as gloomy as usual during their monthly doctor's appointments as she gazed at her hands clasped tightly in her lap and glanced at her father, mother, and Dr. Peter The loneliness brought on by the diagnosis, which was worse than the last visit and left little hope that it would ever get better, could only be eased by the pleasant memories of Saturday night spent with Nelson

There was no chance of recovery for her father's three-year-old Alzheimer's disease. There was no improvement in her mother's deteriorating arthritis. Her limbs were so severely twisted by arthritis that any activity made her gnarled fingers and toes hurt even more, making movement painfully slow and agonizing. Additionally, Clara's condition was emotional, whereas Matilda and Stanley's were physical. Her heart ached to see her parents go through this. She would gladly have taken on their burden if she could have.

Matilda's bony, gnarled fingers wrapped protectively around 's hand. Never before had her fears felt so real. She could almost guess what was going through Doctor Peter's busy mind because he had given her enough clues about what to expect from past visits. She looked desperately at Clara, who was staring blindly at her folded hands on her lap, her lovely face looking unusually pale.

"Matilda you and Clara are both aware of your obligations. "Put Stanley in a nursing home," suggested the benevolent Doctor Peter , who was well aware of the suffering his suggestion caused. "You two are not in a position to take care of him. You have your teaching job, Clara and you can not handle the responsibility because of your arthritis, Matilda . You can only take care of yourself by doing this. Although his voice sounded sympathetic, his faded gray eyes were filled with a powerful appeal.

Matilda hung her head, appearing worn out and confused by the idea of a nursing home. Her gaze remained fixed on Stanley's expressionless face as a tear was squeezed from the corner of one eye. She talked very softly. "Have I mentioned that I used to have a friend in a nursing home?" She took a moment for impact. Indeed, I did. A couple of times a week, I would go see her. I saw what had become of her life. There was only the cemetery to look forward to, and each day was dreadful.

"I have to leave, Matilda," she insisted on telling me. "I have to leave this place or I will die."

After several days, weeks, and months, she eventually stopped talking about returning home. She merely lay there staring at the ceiling and hardly acknowledged my visits when I went to see her. She had nothing left to live for, so she gave up hope. One night, she just stopped breathing and passed away from sheer despair.

"Bottles of hope are not distributed in nursing homes. It is the final location you visit when your life is coming to an end. Matilda's eyes were filmed by tears, which then grew into bright pools and spilled over, covering her swollen cheeks.

If our roles had been reversed, do you think Stanley would have placed me in a nursing home? He never would have, and I am not going to do it either, I promise. My Stanley will never be placed in one of those locations as long as I have any say in the matter.

Clara observed the expressions on her parents' faces without speaking, but she knew that her mother had no say in the matter since she was unable to function without her walker. She and Dr. Peter both looked to Clara to make the ultimate choice, even in spite of her mother's declaration.

She felt like fleeing for the first time in her life in order to avoid having to make a decision she did not want to make. At twenty-five, she ought to be traveling and engaging in activities that make her laugh, such as spending a Saturday evening with Nelson William. Rather, she sat here, burdened by things she never would have imagined having in the future. She had never felt pulled in so many directions at once, both by realistic Doctor Peter and the agony of her mother. She saw her own life evaporating before her eyes because she would undoubtedly have to give up any plans for the future in order to care for her parents. If a woman had parents with disabilities, no man would ever want to be responsible for them. She felt like a huge wave washed away all hope as hopeless futility for her own life poured through her.

She briefly remembered Nelson and the amazing sensation of his arms as they danced. She would love to take it to new heights, but for her, it had been a Cinderella night. However, she was aware at the time that it was impossible for dreams to develop from such encounters. She had no time for romantic relationships because of her work as a teacher and her parental guardianship.

Doctor Peter appeared troubled but sympathetic. He observed young Clara's face, which was a blank slate with no sign of the suffering that was going on inside. He knew she experienced all of her parents' sufferings sympathetically and emotionally, and she was acutely aware of their needs. Her life had completely changed the moment she returned home from college after learning that her parents had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and arthritis, two illnesses that cripple the body and the mind, respectively, just weeks apart. Clara unknowingly switched roles with her parents, taking on the role of parent rather than child. Her circumstances were very difficult for someone so young; her responsibilities doubled before she had a chance to test her limits.

"Clara, you have to talk to her," Dr. Peter implored, tilting his head toward Matilda. "Neither of you are capable of taking care of Stanley . What if he wanders off somewhere, gets lost so no one can find him, or worse, gets hit by a car?"

Clara listened carefully, understanding the implications presented. This wasn't the first time the idea had been put to her, nor was it the first time she gave it her thoughtful attention. Many nights she lay awake, thinking, praying, wishing for some answer to the growing concerns her parents' diminishing health created.

Still, no plausible answer emerged. Only the bold reality of a situation that could seal all of their fates was present; there were no miracles. Her father would lose the house he had worked so hard to build for them all if he were sent away, and what about her mother? In the end, would she also have to send her away? Even though she had no way of knowing how she would handle it, she had only one choice to make after weighing the possibilities, the consequences, and the advantages and disadvantages.

When Doctor Peter first mentioned it to her, she had already been to the nearest nursing home. She had many sleepless nights because of what she saw. Her visit only served to highlight how justified her mother's desire to keep her father at home was. She was shocked to see how miserable many of the residents were. Skeletal beings were lying in bed, pleading with anyone to help them or give them water, their arms outstretched to anyone who happened to walk by in the hallway.

Some lay like death itself, their sheets ripped off to reveal nakedness and bed sores as they lay in their own excrement, their eyes blank and lifeless. Feeding tubes protruded from people's noses or stomachs, and they resembled dead vegetables unable to turn over on their own, with the tubes providing their only source of life. Others sat in wheelchairs in the hallways, drooling and dripping saliva from the corners of their mouths, and lacking the energy to keep their heads from drooping loosely on their chests.

In the dining hall, food trays were placed in front of each person. The majority of the food fell back on their plates or in their laps as some, who could barely hold a spoon in their hands, attempted to push and lift it to their mouths. Their failure was followed by another fruitless attempt. When some people scooped food with their fingers and then, worse, buried their face in their plate and raked the food to their lips, it was not shocking. Nurses' assistants were feeding a lot of people, but there were not enough of them to go around. A healthy person would not have been able to eat because of the offensive odors of waste and urine mixed with the food.

Clara discussed those concerns with Doctor Peter primarily as a distraction to delay making a choice. She knew there was no going back once she made the decision, so she was prolonging it.

Her mother's peace of mind would be destroyed if her father were sent to a nursing home.

Any chance Clara had of ever leading a normal life would be destroyed if she kept him at home.

She was no longer motivated by selfishness, and she had never been self-centered toward her parents. However, her aspirations were similar to those of almost every young American girl. She desired a husband, kids, and a house of her own. The demands of responsibility crushed her dream because she had to take care of her parents.

"There are other nursing homes," Doctor Peter suggested feebly, knowing that all, even the ones that were noted as the better ones, was only as good as the people running them or working there. From all he had witnessed in his life as a doctor, old age was not a blessing, not when people deteriorated to such feebleness they could no longer live with any dignity or purpose. He was careful with those opinions, though. He was sworn to uphold the Hippocratic Oath and give life so long as breath could be carried into someone's lungs. It was his duty as a doctor. It was not a kindness to mankind, however.

"Clara can you forget how he worked so hard to earn money so we could live in a nice house, how he worked overtime many nights, taking on extra clients to send you and Bonnie through college? Have you forgotten all the dreams he once had for retirement? I beg you not to do this to your father. If you do it to him, then you do it to me also. Wherever he goes, I go, too, and I promise you I'll find a way to put the both of us out of our misery."

"Mama, you're not helping with that kind of talk. How can you even consider such a thing?"

"I agree," Doctor Peter said despite his convictions. "Matilda, have you considered your daughter at all, what this will do to her life if she agrees to let Frederick stay home? What about her future? What's going to happen to her when the two of you are totally dependent upon her? Do you expect her to give up her life to give you what you want?"

"Please don't, Doctor Peter," Clara begged quietly, not wanting to add to the pain weighing on her mother's sagging shoulders. "She cares what happens to me, but after visiting that nursing home, I can truly understand her not wanting Dad put there."

Matilda looked at her daughter with love and guilt in her teary eyes. "What he says is accurate, Clara. I am a self-centered old lady. I am not sure what is right anymore. Dear God, I simply know that the thought of going there or leaving my Stanley there is intolerable. What should we all do?

Clara listened to her mother and Doctor Peter with great care and respect, but when she looked at Matilda angry face, which seemed to be a fear of what her daughter would say, Clara made a choice that would impact her life for the rest of her days. She looked up at good old Doctor Peter after lowering her chin for a moment. "Mom is right," she uttered after giving it careful thought. "He will remain at home."

She glanced toward her father, who turned and looked at her as though he understood. She could have almost sworn she saw a timid smile on his lips and a flicker of recognition.

Doctor Peter saw it, too. "Don't put hope in that, Clara He's never going to get better."

Matilda's dry sniffling suddenly broke into a flood of relieved tears. Her hope was revived by her precious daughter. Without Clara she and Stanley both might as well be dead.

She released Stanley's hand and placed her arms about Clara's neck. "Thirty years ago Stanley and I spoke our vows. Till death do us part, we both said. I could not live, Clara, if I knew we were to be separated. Thank you, my darling. Thank you for giving an old woman hope."

Till death do us part, Clara thought. Is that to be my fate with my parents?

Just two nights ago she had danced the night away in Nelson's arms while wishing such moments could last forever. Now, the concept of forever looked awfully barren and empty to her.