Un-editing myself... step one.
I am extremely fond of my parents. My father just died in June. I miss him horribly. (first edit:) I don't talk about how incredibly proud I am of my parents. They've both been physically handicapped almost my entire life. Mom got Polio when I was just a year & a half old, while she was 7 months pregnant with my brother. The doctors told her she wouldn't walk again. Well, Mom wasn't going to accept that. She worked like mad in physical therapy, and got herself out of the rehabilitation facitlity well ahead of schedule. Mom & Dad devised ways for Mom to be able to take care of my newborn brother and me. Really brilliant ideas, too.
Dad was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis around 1978. That is DIAGNOSED, which means he had it for possibly 5 years prior to the diagnosis.
Not one single day, did I hear either of my parents gripe about their physical limitations. On the contrary, they always expressed how lucky they felt for being married to their very best friend, and for having loving, sensitive kids.
It began with my Dad taking care of my Mom. His MS was the chronic progressive type. It did just that...it progressed over time. Eventually, Mom needed to help Dad. Well, as people get older, they don't get stronger. Eventually, this became pretty close to a heroic feat each and every day.
As it was harder for Mom to do a lot of things, and the list of what Dad needed help with grew, I stepped in happily. My brother and I have always been helpful...even as kids. Just a small example, I remember my whole childhood, holding Mom's arm in "just" a way to help her get up a curb, or down a couple steps.
So, I stepped in and helped out. So many people would cringe to know the things I did for my father. To help his health, to help his comfort level.
I did things that the home health aides didn't want to do. Very sad, since they were supposed to be helping him. They would tell him to get my Mom to do stuff for him, even though they knew my Mom, and could easily see that she was physically unable to do things such as give him an enema, change his diaper, and so on.
Well. I'm proud of my father and mother. I'm proud of myself. I'm proud of who my parents taught me to be.
Everyone who have known my parents absolutely adore them. They recognize the kindness, patience, and generosity they embody.
With so many of my peers desperate to NOT turn out like their parents, I'm thrilled to be like mine. I'm still working on some traits that I am attempting to be more like them in....such as patience. I could stand to be much more patient.
That's the worst of my traits, I think. (at least of what I can think about right now...)
posted by kimber @ 10:30 PM
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