Karen Tannenholz works in our office, and last summer she faced the kind of sudden medical emergency we help many people through. Stressed families often imagine their circumstances are unique, but Karen’s story reveals threads common among many: feelings of growing confusion, helplessness, stress, anger, and even humor are all normal. Ultimately, deeper appreciation of each other can emerge as we navigate together through some of life’s most difficult passages. To hear Karen’s story, click 'Read More' below:

My mother is 79 and my stepfather, 87. They have battled Dad’s Parkinson’s for 11 years, but it was only after my parents moved to Connecticut in 2004 that we learned that Mom had been calling paramedics each time my stepfather fell. She had been getting up six times each night for months to help him to the bathroom. They needed help, but my brother, sister, and I didn’t know how to give it.

We watched as medical conditions worsened for both of them. Money management became difficult. But at that time we didn’t know how to get information from doctors, talk to visiting nurses, decipher Medicare, and handle legal issues. We finally put aside feelings of guilt and stepped in – not only to maintain life quality for our parents, but also to preserve our own emotional and physical health.

After my stepfather broke his hip in 2010, my parents hired daytime caregivers. But my mother still became house-bound, feeling that she had to be with her husband. I helped around the house and tried to tactfully suggest practical solutions. She wouldn’t accept them. As our concerns mounted, my brother, sister and I began to talk daily. While my brother handled legal and financial issues, my sister visited and took her out for lunch. I joked with Mom that putting the three of us together would create the perfect child. But I didn’t feel like a child anymore.

Then as I visited last summer, Mom frantically called my name one night. Dad was delusional. Still in bed, he had a tight grip on her wrist and was yelling that we were trying to kill him. Mom told him that he was having a bad dream, but he slapped her in the face. He had always been gentle, and I realized that he was not only delusional, but terrified. I wanted to call 911, but she told me they had an emergency plan in place and I should call hospice and get the medicine they had left her. As Dad continued yelling, I dashed down the hall, angry that I had known nothing about her plan before this happened.

We gave him a tranquilizer, and I spoke to him calmly, saying he was safe. As I searched for soothing music on his TV, he began calling out random channels,”66, 24…53!” Overwrought and exhausted as I was, the absurdity of those numbers nearly caused me to burst into hilarious laughter. Finally, as the tranquilizer took effect, Mom and I turned out his light and sat listening in the next room, hugging each other. The incident had lasted two hours. We decided not to remind Dad of what had happened.

The next morning, we met with their hospice nurse and social worker. When asked if we needed 24 hour care, my mother and I answered, “No” and “Yes”, at the same time. I looked at her and explained, “Mom, he wasn’t hurting YOUR mother.”

The next two days were a blur. Despite my mother’s objections, and telling her I was going out for medicine, I stopped to meet their lawyer, see a nursing home and get medical consent forms for my sister and me. I got advice from my coworkers and typed out a contact information sheet for caregivers and family. I fired one caregiver who had not cleaned Dad nor transferred him properly, and found a local family-run care agency to provide 24 hour care. I couldn’t think clearly for the next few days.

My parents slept soundly through the first night of live-in care. They, and we, are happier and calmer. Their caregiver is now part of our family and Dad no longer needs hospice care.

Last month, I teased him, saying that his heart-shaped pillow was very romantic. He leaned over, asking Mom, “Is Karen leaving now?” Mom answered, “No, of course not.” He stage whispered, “I mean is she mentally leaving us?” He still shares his dry sense of humor, only he speaks more slowly. I kiss him and say “I love you” often and now have a deeper relationship with my parents. We have shared this struggle and found answers, together.

And so it is with many families. A difficult passage, to be sure, but with patience and love it can be a blessing nonetheless.