Sandwiched
I didn’t realize that one of the changes you experience in life while in the sandwich generation is the need to dress differently. Let me explain.
A week ago yesterday, I stopped by my mother’s assisted living facility for what I thought would be a short visit. My weekend was going to be crazy thanks to my son’s show choir competition so I knew I had to see her that Thursday or I wouldn’t be able to visit that week.
As I approached her room, I saw her slowly scooting down the hallway, trusty walker in hand. I was surprised to see her without her glasses.
“Hi, Mom! Did you leave your glasses in therapy?” I asked. Mom looked puzzled.
“No … I don’t think so.” She replied.
“Okay, I’ll look around your apartment,” I said, feeling confident they’d be right by her bed or living room chair.
We entered her stifling 83-degree apartment and I knew I was going to be in trouble. Fortunately, I had a tank top on underneath my blouse, so I figured I could take it off if necessary. And boy was it necessary. I didn’t see her glasses after a quick glance around so I went down to the therapy room (getting some raised eyebrows when people saw me in my tank top) to see if they were there. No luck.
I returned to her apartment and searched by her bed. Then around her living room, including crawling on the floor using my phone as a flashlight. Then all around her tiny bathroom. Then by her bed again.
After 15 minutes, my face was flushed and I could feel the sweat starting. I was meeting a client later that day, so being sweaty and gross wasn’t an option. In desperation, I took off my pants, praying no one would knock and enter her room unexpectedly. They’d be treated to quite a sight.
10 minutes later, and with no visitors, I found Mom’s glasses hidden behind her box of tissues near her bed. Whew!
After I kissed her goodbye, I walked down the hallway still in my tank top carrying my coat, but at least wearing pants again. There was no way I was going to wear my coat for at least another half hour.
I think it’s rather ironic that as a lot of women like me approach menopause and deal with hot flashes, we’re also taking care of our elderly parents … who like to keep their thermostats set to a “Welcome to Hell” temperature.
If you’re new to this role, I have one word, People: LAYERS. Do not forget to wear them when you visit your mom, dad, or both. This is a crucial piece of advice necessary for your survival. Please, learn from my pain.
You’re welcome.