Saturday, February 6, 2010

The Squashed Bologna: a slice of life in the sandwich generation

I know I’m a horrible late-comer to this blogging thing. Like much in my life, I have thought about this for a long time before actually doing it. I’ve been thinking hard since February 2005, the month my very elderly parents moved back to New York from Florida, ostensibly to be nearer to their adorable then 2 year-old twin grandsons. In reality, so I could take care of them, too. 

That was when I realized what it meant to be a part of that often cited “Sandwich Generation” demographic. I am especially so because I am an older parent who is also the daughter of older parents. Common for my generation / locale / socioeconomic milieu. Very uncommon for theirs. Heard often at my suburban elementary school, when my parents came to an event: ”Oh, your grandparents are here.”

I am calling this blog “The Squashed Bologna” because that’s what I started saying, at first laughingly, then later less so, as the responsibilities of intensive elder care bumped up against the all encompassing wonderful maelstrom that is the parenting of young children: “Oh, this is ‘the sandwich generation’, that must be why I feel like the squashed meat in the middle all the time.”

I think what finally pushed me over the brink from thinking to actually writing is the fact that my father is actively, acutely dying right now. It’s a long, slow, painful, process. For us, that is. He’s so out of it, I don’t know quite what it is for him. Very scary I think. He has gone from sleeping all the time (20 hours a day) to being awake and agitated almost all the time.

Even heavily sedated, he will fall asleep, only to bolt awake after less than an hour (and on the bad days, every 5 minutes) sit upright, or even stand up – a feat his doctors claimed impossible for a man at his level of infirmity – and say something like “I have to go, I have to get there!” or “take me, come on let’s go!” Some might say his mind is gone, but I think at a very essential level his inner psyche understands that he is dying, and all the almosts, the might-have-beens, the shoulda-coulda-wouldas of his life are tormenting him. 


He has unfinished business and he knows the clock is about to run out. Hell, at nearly 93 he’s already in double over time. So he is compelled, driven to get going, get moving, get it finished, get it done, even if he can’t for the life of him tell me where he wants to go and what he plans to do when he gets there.

My Mother is, needless to say, having a very hard time. She says, so sadly “That’s not Jim anymore, I don’t have a husband anymore.” And she is right. She has, we have, a giant, angry, needy baby; diapers and all.

I got some good news about my Mom today: her wonderful doctor called with the results of her blood work (I’d taken her to the doctor earlier this week for a much needed check-up) and they were “perfectly normal”. Her cholesterol was 115, and heavy on the good stuff – all the more amazing as her main dietary staples are hot chocolate, blueberry muffins and ice cream.

There is so much more to say here, but it’s a start. Tomorrow (or whenever I can get back to this): more about that other slice of bread – my now seven and a half year old twin boys. And did I mention that one of them is on the Autism Spectrum?

15 comments:

  1. What a great post. I rarely read blogs--too much of a time suck, however your post is moving and articulate and great all at the same time. You are the squashed bologna and it doesn't sound fun, but it sounds full of life.

    Yours, Heidi BK Sloss

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  2. My Dear Varda,
    I have just finally in the wee hours of the morning , sleepless but sleepy still read your blog. For me it was just like being across from you and hearing your stories and then of course you listening to mine. I have been in your shoes (of course different colored shoes with a variation of colorful characters). There wasn't much blogging back 10-15 years ago but I did my version in journal format and through tiny digital tapes. As you say and as the person commenting above wrote "it doesn't sound like fun, but it sounds like life". For you that is life and parts of it like the parts about Jacob and your honesty about your feelings that others run from is what makes you one of the most special people I have the honor of having in my life. I love you dearly and though we are not together in the day to day, perhaps we will be , perhaps we should be! Love and care and all that good stuff. Always your friend Lori Yvette

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  3. wonderful blog...I am perhaps in the pre-squashed bologna phase of my family life cycle...co-raising a 16 and 11 year old, and the youngest (and geographically closest) child of parents who will be celebrating their 73rd anniversary in december..I have many blessings, and hope the bologna stays in tact for just a few more years....

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  4. What a moving and heartfelt post. Sorry to hear about your father, but happy to hear the good news about your mother.

    I'm not in your shoes yet, but I did just watch my grandmother suffer a stroke, get cancer, and then die, all within a few months. It was hard trying to find the time to be with her, while at the same time trying to take care of my family, including a daughter with special needs. I really understand your feelings of being squashed!

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  5. Your post was way too familiar, and I'll admit a bit painful to read. I've never been able to write about my father's last moments - I was the only one there. I admire your courage and you inspire me. Thanks for sharing it today.
    Alysia

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  6. I am a older mum, of an older mum and I am too bring up my family and Have some of the same experiaances as you. I found you via Jen at the King and I

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  7. So glad I discovered your blog through the blog gem hop. Great introduction

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  8. I have been here several times before but never "got" the name! I absolutely LOVE it now! Such a great title and explanation. And what a heartfelt post. It was a pleasure to read, even with it's sadness.

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  9. What a wonderful post. As @4timesblessed says, a great introduction to your blog.

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  10. How sad to watch someone be in pain like that. My MIL is generally healthy but has Alzheimer's, so this is a very sad time for the family.

    This is my first time joining in. My first post was Where to start?, and I have one son, who has autism.

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  11. I'm really enjoying getting to know the folks from the beginning. Thank you for finally getting up to writing. Looks like I have some catching up to do!
    Take care-Amy

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  12. This Blog Gems thing is such a good idea. Very interesting to see the different ways people started out. I thought you'd been writing for much longer!

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  13. Loved reading this Varda, sorry I left it so late. Very moving, especially as I watched my Mum die slowly, but from across the Irish Sea. I wasn't able to help very much xx

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  14. I always wondered about the name of the blog and twit that I am I never thought to check your first post, glad you joined in blog gems and I got to read it :) Jen

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  15. Another Multiple Mum huh? And a very busy one at that. Fortunately my parents are still managing pretty well on their own because I totally have my hands full with the four little ones. This is a great start to your blog Varda. Thanks for joining Weekend Rewind x

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I am so sorry to have to turn word verification back on, but the spam-bots have found me - yikes!