Anyone who has cared for an infant will tell you that, initially, they are all take and no give.  They depend on you to keep them alive and will suck the life out of you in order to get what they need. Which is everything. It is not a reciprocal relationship.  You love and care for them with the faith that, someday, they will grow into a person capable of love and empathy. Much the same can be said for caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s.  Except for the growing out of it part.  You have to accept the knowledge that there will be little appreciation for your care and sacrifice because they can’t remember your care and sacrifice.  You’re stuck in the infant stage.

My dad insisted on changing doctors after his girlfriend successfully convinced him that hers was better.  His doctor’s office was across the street from his apartment and was good about communicating with me.  The other doctor is way uptown and is an elderly European woman whose bedside manner could be most kindly described as abrupt.  As I said, he was insistent that he didn’t like his doc and wanted the change, so I made all the phone calls, faxed all the documents and, when it was all said and done, I called him to let him know that it had been done.  He said, “I really wish you would talk to me about these things rather than just making changes without consulting me.  I liked my doctor.  Why do I have to change”?  It is at this point that you have to suck up your irritation and grind your teeth at night.  And I know that if my father had any say in the matter I wouldn’t be handling his affairs at all.  So I remind him that I did it all on his say so and wouldn’t make these decisions without consulting him.  “Well, I don’t remember that”, he says.

I spent over a week in New York during the holidays.  I dragged my family with me while doing my usual sprint back and forth between my parents, visiting and making sure that the details of their lives are being managed.  My mom was watching those terribly sad ASPCA ads and talking about wanting a cat.  So, before we left town, we visited the shelter and adopted a friendly little cat to keep her company.  It was a huge success and we left Mom and the cat, Noella, snuggled up together on the bed watching TV.  Two days after returning home, I got a phone call lamenting how lonely she is and asking why I never visit.  After a few rounds of “I just visited”, “No, you didn’t”, I just let it go and said I’d be visiting soon.

You can’t need to win.  You can’t need to be right.  If your efforts are acknowledged, which does happen once in a blue moon, you just have to save it in your still functioning memory bank for another day.  And remember that your parents took care of you until you were capable of love and empathy.