The Power of Patience: Caring for the Elderly with Respect and Compassion

I don’t know if anyone can identify with this situation or has witnessed such a scene. I know for me it almost brought me to tears to see how some adult children treat their parents. Here, it’s a daughter and her father. This is what took place.

It was 8:30 in the morning, and I am sitting in the ophthalmologist’s office for my post-op checkup along with several patients from the surgery the day before. We were a fine group of one-eyed wonders. You could tell who the patients were a mile away; we were all sporting a nifty clear eye guard. Most had someone with them — a spouse, family member, or friend — and we were patiently waiting to be called to see the doctor.

My name was called by the doctor’s assistant for the preliminary eye exam and removal of the eye guard. When I returned to the waiting area, a seat was available next to a couple that had arrived while I had stepped away. I soon realized they were father and daughter.

As I waited for my turn to see the doctor, I overheard the elderly man say to his daughter he had questions about the recovery process and what to expect. He was probably in his late seventies, early eighties and came across as a modest man, articulate with a gentle disposition, and bilingual. However, her response was brusque, showing no affection or compassion towards her father. It was obvious he was nervous about the recovery process. She told him to write his questions for the doctor. There really wasn’t anything wrong with the answer, but with the way she snapped at him, denigrating his concerns. Her demeanor was that it was an inconvenience for her. He kept trying to have a conversation with his daughter, but she wasn’t interested. After a short time, she finally rummaged through her oversized purse and handed him a piece of paper, but no pen. When a staff member passed by, she asked to borrow one.

Noticing the No Cell Phone sign on the wall, she snapped at him out of nowhere, telling him he couldn’t use his phone — even though he wasn’t on it. He then asked if his phone was to ring, could he text the person back? Exasperated with the conversation, the daughter said NO. She addressed him as you would an unruly child. Why didn’t she explain that the No Cell Phone sign was just for conversations? Texting or playing games would not bother the other patients. The other people were using their phones; I would have been listening to my book on Audible if I hadn’t forgotten my earbuds. Instead, I was listening to the interaction between a father and his daughter.

What tugged at my heartstrings was that he never got upset; he just meekly accepted her responses. I just lowered my head, afraid I would cry. I got the impression he was living alone and was facing this on his own. She had brought him because driving was not permitted for the first 24 hours after surgery. Her body language and mannerisms were of someone who was put off by having to be there. When he asked her when he could schedule the next surgery, her response was again blunt: “After I come back from vacation.”

Every time I see an elderly person, I am reminded of my mom. I cared for her until her passing at 102, and everyday I thanked God I was given this great gift. It is difficult for parents to rely on their children for care. They were the caregivers of their family, and now they were the ones that need to be cared for. So, instead of showing compassion and answering in a nurturing way, this daughter never missed the opportunity to be terse when answering her father’s questions, and her body language spoke volumes; she was being inconvenienced.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was no Mother Teresa. My days were long, and every day was a continuation of the previous one. Sometimes I was cranky — not with her, but with myself. I was facing the greatest challenge of my life, and I could not fail. I needed, and wanted, to care for her; but I had never cared for another person before, and now I needed to care for my mom; the most important person in my life, and was learning as I went. It was just the two of us, and she was relying on me. When she would say something that I didn’t hear or understand, I would make sure I asked, que necesistas (What do you need) never “What do you want.” We would always speak to each other in a normal tone, with mutual love and respect. And when faced with uncomfortable situations, we face them together. Our go-to coping approach was to make light of the situation.

What I have never understood is how some adult children treat their parents. Like the parents, are a nuisance, an inconvenience now that they need help in their everyday life. Some adult children seem to have forgotten the care and patience their parents showed towards them when they were growing up. Well, guess what? It’s your turn now to show some patience and respect towards them.

For a short time, we had a nurse come by every day to take my mom’s vitals. He told us he had patients who had no one to look after them. Not because they were alone in the world, but because their closest family members, their children, did not make the time, nor did they have an interest in caring for them. And, what’s really sad, they are usually the first ones “crying” the hardest when they pass. Why, because of the guilt?

So what I am saying, we each deal with this phase of our loved one’s life differently. Just remember to show compassion and never miss the opportunity to love and care for them. Call them, visit them often, and be present in their lives. And if possible, open your home to them. But most importantly, open your heart. Don’t miss out on this opportunity to include them in yours; you’d be giving yourself and your family a great gift