The Caregiving Balancing Act: A Journey into The Middle Place

My siblings and I have found ourselves in what I’ve heard termed as “The Middle Place.”

“The Middle Place” is that sliver of time when you’re caring for your own family while also taking on responsibilities for aging parents. It’s a unique, often challenging phase, marked by both gratitude and growing pains. Some of us have kids who have left or are about to leave the nest, while others have younger children still roosting. Together, we’ve seen both sides of the parenting coin. We’ve been parented and are now parents ourselves, inheriting generational tools, some of which we’ve kept, discarded, or updated. Speaking for myself, there are times as a parent when I’ve most definitely overcorrected. My kids don’t fear me, and no matter what I do, they feel entirely comfortable rolling their eyes at me.

This past year, my siblings and I have begun taking a more active role in our parents’ health and well-being. It’s been an interesting dynamic, to say the least, stepping into this new phase. Our parents both worked in Diagnostic Imaging. My dad is a retired X-ray technician, and my mom, who I always teased as a triple threat, is a retired X-ray, mammography, and ultrasound tech. Their education, knowledge, and experience give them an informed perspective on healthcare decisions. You might think they’d have similar opinions when presented with the same information, but to put it simply. They do not.

Meet my parents:

My dad, whenever he has a “man cold,” is quick to plan his funeral. For as long as I can remember, the mildest symptom could convince him the end was near. As a teenager, while dismissing most of my parents’ advice, I did take my dad’s health concerns seriously—probably because he always treated them like emergencies.

 I’m not kidding when I say my family doctor taught me to measure the circumference of my limbs to rule out blood clots, not only in an attempt to ease my mind but I’m sure to avoid becoming a frequent flier to his office. More fun facts:  I also learned that if your chin can touch your chest, meningitis is improbable, and if you can stand on your toes and come back down without pain in your stomach, it’s likely not appendicitis.

My mom, on the other hand, is the quintessential pragmatist. She’s always believed that most ailments will pass in a few days. Growing up, if you had a pulse, you were going to church and school, in that order. I still remember one Sunday morning when I felt absolutely miserable after missing a couple of school days. I was sure this would be the one Sunday I’d be excused from church. But my mom’s response was, “No better place to ask for and receive healing than church.” Resilience and grit could have her name in the dictionary. When she’d overhear my dad advising us with his extreme concerns, she’d be exasperated. “Bob, what in the world are you saying? She fell during a soccer game, and she has a bruise. She DOES NOT have a blood clot.”

It’s an interesting dynamic: one parent ready to call 911 over a sniffle, the other needing to be incapacitated before even considering a doctor.

Considering the context above, you can understand the complexities of what “The Middle Place” has in store for us. We adore our parents and are deeply grateful for all they sacrificed to help us succeed in life. They’re still very independent, but as they age, things inevitably change. We’ve told them, “You are a package deal. When something happens to one of you, it has a tremendous impact on the other. We want to be able to jump in when needed.”

To this end, we’ve asked to attend certain appointments to ensure everything is on track, concerns are addressed, and nothing slips through the cracks. While my parents appreciate our involvement, I can sense their hesitancy—it’s hard not to feel a loss of autonomy. Having your kids chime in to provide the doctor with added context can certainly deflate one’s sense of control, as it did with my dad’s “creative” interpretations. At a recent appointment, when asked about his physical activity, my dad confidently replied, “Great.” I couldn’t help but add some perspective: his definition of physical activity largely involves picking up and putting down the TV remote. With that context, yes, his activity level is indeed “great.”

My parents have always assured us that “when the time comes,” they’ll welcome our support. Being someone who prefers to be proactive rather than reactive, I’ve realized that “when the time comes” is a definition we need to nail down. 

In the midst of navigating these uncharted waters, one thing is clear: caring for aging parents is as unique as the individuals involved. With differing perspectives on health and independence, my siblings and I are learning to adapt to the evolving dynamics of our family. The caregiving plan we initially thought was solid has turned out to be a more fluid plan. Just like kids will be kids, I’ve learned that parents will parent. They can be as unpredictable as teenagers.

It’s both beautiful and daunting to care for the ones who once cared for you. Sometimes, I feel like I deserve an Academy Award for keeping a straight face when my dad tells me he’s cutting back on sugar while eating jujubes, or when my mom insists that sleeping with Vicks VapoRub on your feet can cure almost anything (side note: I’ve tried it, and she might be onto something).

For anyone reading this and experiencing “the Middle Place,” Godspeed to you and buckle up. It’s a ride filled with twists, turns, and more eye rolls than you ever thought possible—but it’s worth every moment.