Preserving the Dignity of Our Aging Parents

Provide choices

"Being able to offer an array of options regarding the small, daily things is essential,” says Tracy Turner, a social worker and bereavement counselor. “Another way to engage is to draw on your parent's decades of life experience and wisdom, whether it's asking a question about child-rearing, events from the past or their opinion on a topic or news item.”

Watching my mother's life become more circumscribed in her independent living facility, I witness my mom's frustration at not being able to do things for herself as her skills and abilities lessen. I've found that some of our best conversations are when I ask her to tell me specific stories from the past or ask her to recount some of her experiences raising me and my sisters. “Did you ever struggle with …?” is an opener that I like to use. It feels to me both intimate and inviting. It signals that I'm about to tell her about something I am experiencing in my life or marriage and I'm asking her how she handled it. These are conversations I will remember long after she is gone.

Memory is a funny thing as we age. Like for so many of us, my mom's older memories are more vivid in her mind. The stories she recalls most clearly and loves to tell are of summers in Arkansas, watching her mother teach piano, her father's hole in one on the golf course and, yes, even getting pinned by old boyfriends. We got a giant giggle when I suggested we Google some of those past loves to see where they are now. Those moments of connection with her past reconfirm her sense of a full, well-lived life. They remind her that she is so much more than the less mobile person she is now, at 87.

Heather O'Leary, 53, of Manchester, New Hampshire, takes care of her mother, Kathleen McCullough, who suffers from COPD, arthritis and other health issues. “Straight talk about her situation works for us, and we communicate about everything,” says O'Leary, who helps her mother with the tasks of daily living, such as bathing, dressing and remembering medications. “We talk about how we can work around her limitations, and I let her try things on her own. I only step in when she says she can't do something.”

Provide purposeful work

It was important to Kathleen Cairnes to make sure her mother, who lived with her before she passed away, had meaning, purpose and responsibility. Cairnes wrote menus on the kitchen blackboard so that her mother could choose what interested her and tasked her with folding laundry on the couch. “I even put her in charge of changing channels on the TV, so we could watch our favorite shows."

Life changed overnight for J. Appell when her father suffered a stroke and she returned home to Belgrade, Serbia, to help him get back on his feet and relearn simple tasks. Just when things began to turn around, her mother had a stroke, plunging life into chaos once again. “Trying to keep their independence was important to them and to me,” she explains. “Often caregivers take things over and start doing things out of good intentions, but they unnecessarily add to the decline of those they care for."

Appell created a giant wall calendar so that her parents could follow the new routines. Large print and photo instructions on walls helped them remember medications and important tasks for the day. She installed shower safety bars and put a list of emergency numbers over the phone, along with loading a laptop with an automatic answer feature in the Skype app. While her mother no longer cooks, she is able to clear the table after dinner. And Appell continues to modify the routines as her parents decline in health. “The independence recipe is ever evolving, as is the level of care,” she reports.

Give control with some oversight

Sometimes it's the invisible things that help return power to ailing parents and maintain their dignity. Kathy Silhavy's mother in Cartersville, Georgia, still pays most of her bills because it makes her feel in control. “I have the stamps,” Silhavy says, “so I'm able to check her bills before they get mailed."

In the end, each of us knows our parents intimately. One size doesn't fit all in caregiving, and finding the balance with different personalities and within the parent-child relationship is often a complex dance.

Toward the end of his life, my father lost the ability to speak. I could read the pain on his face at his inability to find the words. In those moments all that was required was a hug. “You are my dad, and I love you so much,” I would say. “You will always be my dad."