By Mark Weaver
Dear Brother or Sister,
Two years ago I began a journey that is not yet over, but has reached a point that I was dreading all along: On October 12, 2012, I put my dad in a nursing home. It is safe to say that the last few months have been exhausting: physically, emotionally, and even spiritually. I never wanted to be one of my father’s caregivers; instead, I wanted him to be mentally and physically whole right up to the end. If this letter can help you somewhat, to God be the glory, but know this: If you are struggling with a similar decision regarding your parents, you have my deepest sympathy. It is truly one of those things that you simply cannot fathom until you have been there.
This letter is about the decision to place a parent in a nursing home. It was the steady decline of my dad’s health, the demands of my own life, and the realization that something had to change that caused me to place him there. I would caution you to remember that we have been given a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:17) and that God expects us to make our important decisions based on reason. Please also remember that a decision can be the right decision, but you can still feel badly about it. After nearly a month of Dad being in the nursing home, I know he is for the most part happy and I feel better, but I cannot help thinking that I should have tried harder, for longer, to keep him at home. I believe this is normal.
One of the reasons this is such a hard decision is the stigma attached to it. I would like to offer you something to think about in this regard: What stigma is attached to putting your parent in the hospital? I do not think that I have ever heard an adult child accused of trying to dump the responsibility of caring for their parent because they put that parent in a hospital. Why do we take someone to the hospital? Because they are beyond our ability to care for them. For some, the decision to place a parent in a nursing home is made for them by some type of injury or illness. Is a memory disorder and the need for more care than can be provided in the home any different? Too many times, we fail to see that some choices are thrust upon us, and that we must make the best decision we can. Putting your parent in a nursing home is often like that. It is not the decision you want to make, but it is the one you must make.
For myself, as a Christian, part of the dilemma I faced was how to obey God, take care of my family, do my job, and live my life all while taking care of my dad at the same time. This may be the time to point out that “honor thy father” does not supersede other commands like “leave and cleave,” “dwelling according to knowledge,” or even “bring them up in the nurture and admonition.” Caring for a parent affects everything in your life, and everyone. The demands that it places on you are also affecting your spouse and children. When I began caring for my dad, that time had to come from somewhere. Guess where it came from?
I have a very wise friend named Vae Cayton. She has the advantage of wisdom gained through adversity. She pointed out to me that you can care for your parents in “their home, your home, or a nursing home.” What she meant was that putting your parent in a nursing home does not mean your responsibility is lifted, but rather you are getting more help to do the job. Instead of my sister June and I shouldering the lion’s share of the load, I am now in more of a supervisory position. My dad lives in the nursing home where he formerly went a few days a week for activities (what we called adult day care.) He truly seems to enjoy the interaction with others, and is a favorite among the residents and staff.
On a final and personal note, I want to share something else. I chose the nursing home I did because it was clean, close, familiar, small, and friendly. My dad lives in a place that smells good, is two minutes from my house, has people he knows in it, and where he is not just a number and the people are nice. All those reasons are important, but “close” was the clincher. This letter is titled “Every Night, Every Morning.” Through the tears that I cried over this whole thing, I wanted to do the best that I could for Dad. My Dad still knows me, so this was part of the decision too: I would tuck him in every night, and I would bring his coffee and oatmeal every morning. Last week, he was asking for me one night and one of the nurses said, “He’ll be here, every night, every morning.” It may not be the way I wanted things to be, but I believe he knows that I love him, and that I am there for him.
May God bless you as you do the best you can.