When I was 18 and just returned from my trip around the world on the Semester at Sea, I got the idea to transfer from UC Riverside to UC San Diego. My roommate was making the switch, and Judy (who would also have transferred to UCSD) and I were from San Diego anyway.
I held a full-ride scholarship at UCR that would not transfer automatically to UCSD. I asked Dad if he would approve my transfer. He said no, emphatically. No doubt, the uncertainty about the scholarship was an important factor. He also saw that, while I had a year and one -half experience invested in becoming involved at UCR, I would be starting over at UCSD.
I did not receive his answer well. In hindsight, I am grateful to him, as my parent, making a decision for me even though I was 18.
After his simultaneous stroke and heart attack when he was 79, I was put in the position of advising Mom about decisions on his behalf. Another one of the ironies of life.
The subject of making decisions for a loved one came to mind as we watched the movie, “The Leisure Seeker.” Judy had ordered the DVD from Netflix, in part because of the premise of the movie and good reviews, but also because the stars were Helen Mirren and Donald Sutherland. They play a couple married for more than 50 years and devoted to each other. He, though, is a victim of severe dementia, and she is succumbing to cancer.
They undertake a road trip in their RV that they had long ago named “The Leisure Seeker.” To the consternation of their son and daughter, the couple had not let them know they were leaving or their route and destination. It is hard not to root for the couple as they tap into memories while, at the same time, enjoying a freedom of action that had become constrained at home by their well-meaning children.
It is also possible to identify with the children. They worry that either parent, away from medical support, will come to some harm, or accidentally harm others. There is no doubt that they would say “we’re only thinking of you.”
Our family experienced a similar moment in Mom’s final years. One spring, after having fallen several times, she suddenly needed more and more help around the house, and benefitted from friends delivering meals from time to time. She sold her car, got rides from other friends to church, and had her tenant grocery-shop for her.
Her children suggested that the time might have come for her to move to a retirement community. My sister, Sandee, and Judy toured a few and suggested a visit to the one nearest to Mom’s church. To our surprise, Mom agreed to go.
She seemed to love it. The apartment she saw had ample room, a lovely lanai, and pine trees that Mom said reminded her of camping. Compounding our surprise, she deposited $2000 and took away the papers she would need to complete in order to rent the space.
When I telephoned her a few days later, she said, “I can’t do it. I can’t leave here. I want to die in this house.” Whether or not she was trying to please her kids by saying that she would move, we will never know. That house, though, was the only one she had ever owned.
The prudent choice for her was to move. We encouraged her to do so. We did not insist. It was good fortune that Mom had the financial resources to undertake the risks of staying put. In the last six months of her life, she needed the 24-hour care that would have been a feature of the retirement community.
People of a Certain Age, our certain age puts us in the middle of the time frame for yet one more crucial life decision, one that either we will have to make (or perhaps have already made), or, possibly, will be made by others in our behalf. When is it the right thing to do to insist on deciding something for someone else?
Answering the question might well pit head against heart. Tough decisions often do.
A Stanford Professor of Psychology, in a speech to independent school educators several years ago, described a continuum of decision-making for parents and children in the early years. Until a certain age, parents make nearly all of the decisions in behalf of a child. At some point, the child is independent. The professor argued that the longer the period of shared decision-making from birth to adulthood, the better the outcomes for all concerned.
That’s a hard point to prove and harder still to implement if the child develops confidence early in life in her capacity to make good decisions for herself, and she is right. (Dad’s intervention in 1966 seemed late in my life by the professor’s standard. But it turned out okay.)
I wonder if the model holds promise for situations in later years; shared decision-making. In discussions about “do not resuscitate” or exercising “the right to die” in states where that is legal, loved ones are encouraged to talk about these issues in advance, and perhaps even to write down what those discussions conclude.
Perhaps matters like treatment for illness or moving to another living situation, etc. might also become topics for conversations between loved ones before any need arises.
Or perhaps circumstances vary so widely from family to family that we need to acknowledge that there are few hard and fast rules to follow here, that we are all obliged, in the end, to do the best we can.
Daniel E. White
September 24, 2018