Role Reversal
4 minute read
Last weekend my parent’s first appointment for their Covid 19 vaccine was cancelled. Not enough doses were delivered and because their surname is in the final third of the alphabet they were to miss out. There would be another delivery and vaccination clinic in a fortnight, and they would be top of the list then. It’s fine. What’s 14 more days after the last 54 weeks? A year and three weeks after lockdowns began they will be on their first step back to normality, a month after that they’ll hopefully be fully vaccinated and my sisters, brother and I will be able to breathe out knowing that they are safe, from this at least.
Except for a 20-minute visit to the back of the house on Christmas day, I haven’t seen my parents in person since the end of last August. After a nice enough summer where we visited and sat in the open-air my dad was concerned about the return to the classroom. Even though my children aren’t in school we all agreed to give them some space and see how everything settled down. Then in October, we went back into lockdown and it wasn’t a choice anymore.
All we want to do is to keep them safe. They are 78 and though in great health, we know that they are now elderly. It seems strange saying that about your parents but there can be no denying it now that they’re just a year and a half away from their 80s. Perhaps because of their rude health and their energy, it’s been easy for me to deny that they’re getting older and that they probably won’t be here forever. Or perhaps I know this and I’m just in denial.
I had been fine all year. Trying to focus on small things, calling to check in, the family WhatsApps, the Zoom calls for special occasions. But last weekend knocked me. I didn’t realise how resolutely I had been clinging to their vaccination date, how much I needed it to confirm their safety. I know they were disappointed but ever the pragmatist my dad just said, ‘it’s coming, we’re nearly there. He was so calm while I worried and panicked for them.
It’s such a strange thing the role reversal that happens in midlife. I have both young children and older parents to occupy my mind. I’m worried about all of them, mindful of their health and vaccination schedules, teaching them how to use technology, thinking about what life will be like when they leave me - my parents, because their life is nearing the end, my children because theirs is beginning.
It’s bizarre how quickly roles are reversed. When this all started and I had friends and family trying to convince their parents to stay in and not go out and meet their friends, we all felt like we’d become the grownups overnight – also, as an aside, did any of us ever realise what lively social lives septuagenarians have?
In 1981 an American social worker called Dorothy Miller came up with the term ‘the sandwich generation’ to describe those people who had both children and ageing parents that needed their attention. When it happens, you become a dual caregiver but what happens when you’re trying to mind older parents and you still just want to be their child? A lot of the anxiety around this stage of life is pre-emptive grief at losing your mum and dad, at having to mind the people who always minded you.
Having older parents is sort of like having stroppy teenagers. You’re worried about them, you try to give advice while they roll their eyes (often rightly so) and try and tell you that they know better. You’re worried about people taking advantage of them, of something happening to them when they’re out and about. There’s a concern that they won’t go to the doctor when there’s something wrong or that when they do go they don’t ask enough questions. You’re freaked out that they’ll go to bed without locking the front door.
Some of it is funny and there are things I’m really looking forward to. In a satisfying mirror image of my awful teenage years, I look forward to suggesting that they drink less, checking that they’re wearing sensible footwear and telling them to be careful of strangers on holidays. Of course, if it’s a true time swap, I’ll also have to drive them everywhere, at short notice and give lifts to questionable friends.
It doesn’t have to be said that if you still have your parents in your 40s, you’re very lucky. Lots of people have lost them, more this year, but two things can be true, you can be so lucky, and you can be scared of what’s to come.
It has been a year to experience loss. We know what it’s like to live without human contact now, we know what it’s like to miss people who are still here but far away, we have lived very small, close lives and while it’s been such a hard year for so many, a lot of my thoughts have been with those who are older, who are all too aware that life is finite, and they are missing out on the few years they have left.
While we wait for the call about their vaccine what I’m planning now is a big party. We missed their 50th wedding anniversary last year and they missed lots of their grandchildren’s birthdays and milestones, including my daughter’s first birthday in February. What we really need now is a big knees-up for the 22 of us and whatever uncles, friends and cousins we can gather together. They love a big night out and I’m looking forward to putting them to bed with some paracetamol and a glass of water like a good faux mam.
Jennifer Stevens, April 2021
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