RndmRunners Short Pieces - 1. 2011 - A Year to Remember

2011 was a hard year but hard serves as a path to a little wisdom. It was the year that my parents died. They lived full lives and had difficult deaths. As always they set an example for their children. I’ll tell you something right up front: my parents were loud, smart, opinionated, sometimes incredibly narrow minded for such generous people. They were good enough that many times I was hard on them for not always living up to the high expectations that they set for themselves and also for others. It was a high bar to reach at times.

Regardless, they loved one another and their children fiercely. Arguments were part and parcel of that love. Because if you can’t be honest with the ones you care about who else matters. And brutally honest they were. Now honesty doesn’t always mean you are right, it just means that you think you are. Being smart also doesn’t always make you right but you have better tools to persuade others. So family dinners were often a free for all. The food was good but that wasn’t the point. They had an open house and an open table: the price of admission was to engage and if a little fur flew well at least you made an impression. Christmas was one of those times and last minute guests were always welcome. So what if you didn’t celebrate Christmas, all faiths understand sharing, the breaking of bread and the opening of your home to others who were maybe a little adrift that night. So it was not an uncommon occurrence to have Jews or Muslims at the table. And while my parents hated religion per se and steered away from any organized religion, they were spiritual in a loud non-conformist way. My dad who was born secular Jewish worked hard to be WASP and mum while often proclaiming atheism could never fully shed the lessons learned from the nuns.

I’m glad dad was the first to get sick. If it had been mum, dad would have still been there for her as she was for him. But in the end, I think that he was more afraid of dying so it his dying first was ultimately easier on them both. Most people who met my parents would have taken my dad for the extrovert and he was. But being an extrovert doesn’t make you confident socially just as being an introvert doesn’t make you awkward. Sometimes our dispositions and our gifts are not fully in balance. My parents forged their balance together. Mum could confidently make big decisions because dad always had her back. Dad could stick up for the underdog because mum was always in his corner. I don’t want you to think that they were perfect. Well maybe they were, but they were also bull headed, opinionated, stubborn, and not a little prejudiced. I think I already made that clear but I wanted to make sure that you were paying attention. Mum captured some of this when she would say with all honesty: “My mind is made up, don’t confuse me with facts.”

The problem with illness is that people and especially the medical profession treat the ill differently. They do their best, give good, no, excellent care, but little by little they read the chart more and the patient less. And no matter the best intentions, it does not help when people two generations your junior, strangers, address you by your first name or as “dear” never offering up their own. They hide behind the impersonal Dr. They are also busy, tired, and doing their best. In the end, sometimes the patient is not going to get better so a strictly professional focus only goes so far and ends up insulating the health professionals more than it helps the patient. Honesty, respect, and direct interaction are truly worth something. It lets the sick know that they are still alive and not just a chart.

Both my parents were wicked smart, though differently so. It didn’t really help them much when they were ill. During the worst days, illness makes even the smartest, dull and a bit confused at times, not because they were losing it but because their bodies were failing them. If you can’t eat or sleep, or are in pain or hazed from all the meds to deal with those ailments, you are not at your best. That said my parents received platinum care. Furthermore, Mum, a physician herself, could oversee dad’s treatment to ensure that he got quality of life and the truth.

Mum’s turn came even as dad was still dying though she ignored the signs of her own illness until after dad died. Honestly ,as a doctor she didn’t get any better care for being in the profession if you gauge care by access to care or treatment options. The special care that she did get was through having a fierce band of friends and colleagues who ensured that her choices were listened to and that she heard the evidence unadulterated, because what is choice without information. As a superb diagnostician, she was under no illusions. I still think that before dad died, before she ever saw a doctor, she pretty much knew she was facing a terminal illness herself. It just wasn’t the time to deal with it – yet.

Fierce and stubborn, mum made sure to squeeze some real quality time out of her final months. This included a final trip to California to spend time with my brother and the older grand-children, culminating in a rowdy cross country trip across the continent with dogs barking in the back of the car. Mum bundled in the passenger seat, a bald wizened Yoda, happily issuing instructions and backseat driving.

When you see people at their worst, you also see them at their best. I know my parents set me a high standard to live up to. I also see that I have one more reason to be glad for being a father. I know that if I am lucky I can pass on a bit of what is best in me to my daughter, in fact I am obligated to try my best to do so. 2011 was a lousy year and I would not have missed it.