Choosing Change

I was having trouble falling asleep last night (not uncommon) when the news broke about the massive earthquake and tsunami that has struck Japan.

Looking at all that devastation while preparing for mom's move reminded me again how capricious life can be. We walk around thinking we have control and there are plenty of little choices we make all day long. Stuff like whether to have a donut or oatmeal for breakfast, if we should get gas on the way home from work or wait til morning (my tip: don't wait; gas prices go up every time you blink right now) or whether the kids should do soccer and music lessons or pick just one.

But the truth is we have no real control. As John Lennon said, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." Most of us know from personal experience how true that is. Heaven knows when folks in Northern Japan started their week, they didn't know they would end it facing thorough devastation.

Our family knows, and has known for a while, that mom is moving to an independent/assisted living facility in Burbank, Calif. In that respect, we have had the luxury of planning and preparation that those suffering a natural disaster or sudden tragedy do not. We are not facing massive loss of life and property, desperate pleas for international aid, and concerns about nuclear meltdown.

I am deeply grateful for that difference. You don't get to choose when the tsunami or heart attack or job loss hits. But there are times when you do have the option of choosing aspects of your major life changes.

Right after the doctor told my mom she could no longer live alone, she went into a formidable state of denial. Mercifully, that didn't last too long. For a variety of reasons, she soon accepted the reality that it was time to make the change she always knew she would eventually face. It's a complicated experience and she has slipped in and out of various degrees of acceptance, all of which are perfectly understandable.

My sister and I were quite frightened during those initial days of denial. We are a determined (okay, stubborn) bunch. It seems to be in the DNA. My mom is one of the sweetest people you will ever meet in your life -- but don't mess with her if she's made up her mind about something! Even though her reaction was typical, I was scared out of my mind. In addition to having wild visions of her tumbling down the stairs of her three-story townhouse, I was getting a disturbing bit of feedback as I began researching possible residences for her.

When I shared about her resistance, the staff at these various homes raised their eyebrows and all said the same thing in the same tone of restrained urgency: It sounds like you and your sister are going to have to make the decision for her.

Huh? What the hell does THAT mean?

I was told that if she was in "that much denial" and her health was at risk, her daughters would have to step in and force her to move.

"Um, you haven't met my mom," I said to one staff member. "That is NOT going to fly." She looked at me and gave me one of those kind, almost pitying looks and said, "Well, if it's a matter of her safety, you're going to have to do it."

Those were some of the darkest days yet in this process. Terrified my mom was going to die in her house and faced with the possibility of...what, binding and gagging her before throwing her on a plane against her will? Taking her to court to declare her incompetent? Good God. My mom couldn't live alone anymore, but she was FAR from incoherent or demented. I felt helpless, anxious and frustrated.

I contemplated these horrors, talking to my mom on the phone each day to reassure myself that she was still alive, wondering if I would find some magic word or phrase to make her see what had to be done. Then one day she told me she knew it was time to go. She confessed that a part of her felt a relief that the doctor had made the determination. The house, as much as she loves being in it, had become too much for her to keep up. The prospect of a more simplified existence actually held some appeal.

I was surprised and relieved -- and tremendously proud of my mom. She's one tough cookie. She drives me nuts sometimes (oh, you'll be hearing about that as we roll across the highways), but I admire and respect her for finding her way to accepting the doctor's news.  As a result of that courage, I believe our family averted a disaster.

As much as anyone can ever can.