Role Reversal

Since I can remember, my Dad and I have had an interesting relationship; and when I say interesting, I don’t mean in a good way. Maybe dysfunctional is a better analogy. When my parents split up when I was younger I opted to stay with him – life would never be the same again. I look back on my high school years and still to this day shake my head in amazement that I turned out the way I did (thanks to God, ‘cause no one on earth could have gotten me through it) given the rollercoaster of emotions and the obnoxious relationship we’ve endured over the years. Now here we are 16 years later, and similar to then, I’m taking care of him. Only difference now is that I’m approaching 30 with a family of my own; and back then I was 13 (going on 30) living with a man who didn’t know what he was getting himself into asking for custody of a broken little girl.

My Dad was diagnosed with MS in 2004, the year after Mark and I got married; and we’ve basically been taking care of him ever since. Mark is my angel, and since the day Mark came into my life, he’s been my rock when it came to dealing with my dad. He had the opportunity to experience the healthy Mike (that’s my dad’s name), and also the MS Mike. Mark has helped teach me to take it one day at a time with Mike; to not sweat the small stuff; or in most cases, the things I can’t control about my dad. Healthy or not, I can’t change Mike’s quirky behavior; I can only accept he’s sick and adjust my attitude to make the most out of each visit we have together.

Funny side story – calling him Mike reminds me of when I was a kid. When we were at softball tournaments, or with large groups of people, I used to call him by his first name; partly to piss him off, but also to get his attention. My rational was that if I yelled DAD, 5 guys would turn around, but if I yelled MIKE, only him and maybe one other would acknowledge the call. Needless to say, I call him Dad much more often these days. Calling him Mike is more of a joke, reminding him of those days so many years ago.

My sister Tiffany has also been a tremendous help with Mike. I’m putting it lightly when I say my dad is LUCKY to have my sister in his life. My mom did a phenomenal job raising Tiffany alone (I could write a whole book about my mom’s incredible journey – post Mike), but she got the raw end of the stick when it came to our dad. He never made her feel like the amazing person she is, or gave her the attention or love that she deserved and needed. And even through all of those years of hurt he caused her, she still finds it in her heart daily to love him unconditional. Tiffany is one of the most beautiful people I know. She has the soul of a saint, and truly is an amazing woman – she must get that from our mom! Fortunately now after years of broken sisterhood, we are the best of friends. We can talk about the years of our childhood that were spent a part and fill in some of the blanks that caused us both heartache. Blanks in time that we only assumed the truth about up until a few years ago. Without her in my life, I really don’t know how I would have gotten through the past several years caring for our dad.

Mike is in his mid-50’s, so as you can probably imagine, it’s hell seeing him deteriorate – probably the hardest part of caring for someone with MS. Last night around 6:50 I got a call from my dad’s home that he was being rushed to the hospital because he had fallen – again. Falling for Mike several years ago was a weekly occurrence, but since moving from a walker to a wheelchair last year, falling was happening far less often. Unfortunately, last night’s fall was the result of his MS acting up. His legs just decided not to work, and instead of getting from the bed to his wheelchair, he met the floor.

The hospital released him last night after running a bunch of tests and ruling out any breaks, but he was still a little shook up once he got home. I went to visit him this morning on my way to work. He was pretty bruised up and still a bit swollen. The worst part – his legs are still not working. Other than bringing him some homemade food, all I could really offer was some Tylenol and the hug I’m sure he needed most. I think the hardest part of seeing him the way he was this morning is the fact you feel helpless. When things like this happen, there is really nothing Tiffany or I can do for him, except just show him love.

I love my dad with all my heart, but I’d be lying if I said it’s not tough to accept the life with Mike we’ve been handed. With most things dealing with Mike, I try to see the glass half full, because God knows, he sees ever glass damn near empty. Sure, sometimes I hear that voice in my head telling me we’re too young to be dealing with this, but then I snap back into reality and remind myself – life just happens, and sometimes people have to care for their parents a little earlier in life than they would prefer. It’s not always a reality I want to accept, but it is, what it is, and there is no use bitching (although venting and writing about it sometimes helps) about something you just can’t change or fix.

If I’ve learned anything from my dad since he’s been sick it’s this – be smart with your money. Save, and plan for the future, because you never know when an illness is going to creep up on you and turn your world upside down.