Facing Mortality

It is 2024, and I have not been exactly active on my site. Had it not been my close relative’s sudden illness, I still might be in hiatus.

Whilst sitting next to my parent, whilst they were finally sleeping, I thought of growing older – and mortality that comes with it. It is a quite well known fact that young people feel practically immortal – we all have been there. Frankly, I still wish to be immortal, but the realisation that I might actually not be has started to creep in.

Truth to be told, as much as I would love to live forever, I have accepted that I will die one day. I had to face this sobering thought after undergoing a major surgery, and I do feel at peace with it. Maybe it is the rational mind telling me that, maybe it is my faith.

But, having to face the inevitable starting to close in on someone who has been there since the day I came to this world… that is very scary and sobering thought. And for that, the acceptance of your own fate does very little, I’m afraid.

Over the past few years, my darling Wifey has heard me say, several times, that “I wish I had siblings!”

Not because I would want the sibling rivalry or anything like that – but because I have to deal with my parents ailing health by myself. So it is more frustration than anything. Also, their support would have helped during my “coming out” -years. But, as I have none, I have to head into this storm by myself.

For the longest time, I have thought how we Westerners have outsourced parts of our natural life cycle, and by doing that we have forgotten the naturality of growing older. One day, our beloved grandparents are still home, and the next, we ship them to elderly care homes and visit them once a month or once a year.

We have somehow, over the course of decades, even if not centuries by now, accepted that we adults do not have time to take care of our own elders. And as we are too busy, we outsource this duty to someone else – the elderly care staff. And what this had led us into?

We have become afraid of growing older or even seeing our grandparents and parents grow elderly and approach their end of life. I believe it is not because we are afraid of losing them, but mostly because we are subconsciously forced to face that we, ourselves, might not be immortal after all.

Watching my dear parent sleep peacefully after the medicine has finally kicked in, I can relax. As a registered nurse, this is the response I have waited for. The medicine is clearly bringing some relief. But even my training and experience seem to fail me.

I work in a university hospital, where I have to deal with issues that come with ageing. That happens daily, whilst organising help for them at home, or when suggesting a recuperation period at a hospice hospital before the patient is ready to go home. As nurses, we liaise with physiotherapists for the assessment of the need for walking aids, and so on.

And yet, when I sit by the bedside of my elderly parent, because they have an infection, something we see often at our line of work… I am at complete loss what to do and fearing what might, and eventually will, come.

Is it because in this situation I am not a nurse, but just one of those worried relatives that try to help their loved one get past one more hurdle so that I can let out a sigh of relief and go on? Am I just one of those people, that I see at the hospital, who has shopped for some bananas and easy to eat foods for my parent, who haven’t eaten anything for the past two days.

I can tell you that it is a scary moment when you stand in the shop, wondering if your parent might want to even taste some of their favourite foods. And if they don’t, what then?

If there is one fact in this universe, it is that we all will die. Keeping that, rather morbid, fact in mind, we really should not outsource this part of our lives to some faceless nursing home but instead cherish the lives of our elders before it is too late. And we should record their thoughts, stories, and voices so that we can hear them in the future, too.

As a professional in the health care field, I trust modern medicine and its ability to help my parent cross this hurdle. However, at the same time, I have the nagging voice in my brain telling me that I should have had the talk with them earlier. I mean the talk about their wishes about funeral arrangements, their spiritual needs, et cetera.

It is a heavy topic, I know. But at the same time, it would allow any of us to take comfort in the fact that we don’t need to fret about that after the unthinkable happens. I have had the talk with my parent, I am now sitting with, once before. But situations have changed, and the details need updating. Hopefully, most likely, I still have time for that.