Why don’t more of us plan for our parents’ future?

I’m not a parent, so I’ve never had to care for a growing child. But I know what it’s like to care for an aging mother: The child becomes the parent, the parent becomes the child.

It was 2008, some years after my dad passed away, and mom was beginning to show signs of decline: Forgetting to take her medications, a slip and fall here and there, unable (more likely, unwilling) to keep her house clean, unable to walk as much as before. Although my brother and I lived close enough to help, we could only do so much. Out of a mixture of pride and delusion, we felt fine handling things ourselves; as long as we could get through the crisis du jour, all would be well and good.

But our loving intentions had ramifications. We stressed out over imaginary problems. We argued about who was supposed to do what for mom. We hurled unfair accusations at each other. If only we knew better. If only years earlier we had considered mom’s future needs instead of applying near-daily band-aids, life could’ve been a lot more peaceful.

We were, I imagine, like most sons and daughters. As much as she slowed down physically and cognitively, we didn’t want to face the truth: No way could we take care of her by ourselves. Unconditional love wouldn’t manage her incontinence, it wouldn’t prevent yet another bladder infection, nor would it magically give her a daily insulin shot with the correct dosage.

Once we realized the magnitude of the situation, we scrambled for a solution, and eventually found mom a spot at an assisted living center about a mile away from her house. It was a modern, clean, and safe place with a caring staff and top-notch amenities. She had privacy in her own one-room apartment. She enjoyed three meals a day in a light-filled, expansive dining room. The staff made sure that she took her medications. My brother and I could finally sleep well.

Mom became somewhat of a minor celebrity. She shocked the mostly conservative residents with her outspoken political views. Just the same, she cracked them up with her zany personality and off-color jokes. They adored her French accent. Something more important happened: She loved living there. She liked the attention. She didn’t have to clean anything. Her favorite part, however, was the fully-stocked snack and tea selection in the entertainment room.

During my regular visits to see mom over the years, I gained a reverence for the senior care industry, and for the people who devote their lives to it. They carried out their tasks with patience and a smile. I’d see some residents slowly moving themselves in wheelchairs, others ambling along with their canes. Every now and then I noticed someone eating alone in the dining room, lifting spoonfuls of soup to their mouth with a shaky hand. The staff couldn’t alleviate the natural breaking down of the human body, but they were always there with small acts of compassion: To hold open the elevator door, to stop and chat for a few minutes, to see if a resident needed another cup of coffee.    

Everyone wants this quality of care for their parents. The problem is, senior living can be expensive. Even the more affordable options have waiting lists. Some will argue that it’s our duty to care for our parents – they should move in with the kids or vice versa, no matter the potential inconvenience or disruption to normal life. I couldn’t agree more. But for the majority of us (as it was for me and my brother), that scenario is either financially or logistically impossible. That’s why you need a Plan B, which is having a plan for your parents’ future. 

I’m at the age where more and more friends are facing – or will soon have to come to grips with – the issue of caring for their parents. I’ve asked many of them if they have a plan. And based on my unofficial tally, most replied “No.” Barely any have even thought about it or discussed the idea with their parents. It’s an uncomfortable conversation. Families will do anything to avoid talking about money. And mentioning anything associated with “senior living” infers the biggest taboo of all – talking about death. 

But your parents sat down with you to have valuable but unpleasant conversations when you were young. Now’s the time to return the favor. Talk to them about their wishes. What type of environment would appeal to them? What can they afford? Can you contribute anything? Take tours of senior living centers to get a feel of the possibilities. Research other options like in-home care. 

Whatever you do, prepare for the inevitable. It’s hard to watch a parent enter the stage of life when they start to lose their independence. That uneasy feeling only gets magnified when you suddenly need to find care for them right now. Planning benefits everyone.

It wasn’t like my mom did cartwheels when we announced where she was moving. But because of the senior center, she was a lot happier the last 10 years of her life. So were my brother and I. 

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I’m a ghostwriter for leaders, thinkers, and entrepreneurs. I turn complex ideas into compelling stories through articles, books, blog posts, and content programs.

You can learn more about me and read more articles at thecomposer.com