Prior to his cancer diagnosis, my Father had also been borderline diabetic and suffered from high blood pressure. My Mother watched his diet like a hawk, to the point that my Father’s main goal in life revolved around finding ways to sneak “no-no” food when she wasn’t looking. With his cancer, she had become more stressed about his diet, pretty much treating him like a child always seeking candy.
One day, while my Mother was out, Dad and I had a nice long chat. He complained about the fact that my Mother wouldn’t let him do anything for himself anymore, like shaving or even brushing his teeth. Then he said that “when his time comes,” he doesn’t want to stay in the hospital because no one could take better care of him than Mom; but he worried about her. I know they talked about his dying all the time. It was Dad’s way of trying to prepare her. I suggested to Dad that he stop complaining about Mom, that caring for him was her main joy in life and she was making the most out of it. He laughed and said he hadn’t thought of it that way before, after all, she was doing a better job than he did anyway.
Before I left, I also had a long talk with Mom; in fact, both my Sis and I were in on it. We suggested that she lighten up on Dad. “Eating is one of his main enjoyments in life, Mom, lighten up on him.” We reasoned that a few sweets each day or using soy sauce on everything wasn’t going to hurt him that much. “Let him enjoy more Mom!”
In retrospect, I believe that was a turning point in my parent’s life together. After fifty plus years, certain dialogues and habits are so deeply rooted that it takes a conscious effort to change attitudes. The little bickering and daily complaining had no real meaning. With my Father’s remaining time, it no longer made sense for them to not behave in a more loving manner toward one another. Why does it take a life-threatening illness before one is motivated to make behavioral changes?
