`CARETAKERS' ALWAYS ON CALL

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

A social worker would call her the "primary caretaker." You probably know someone like her.

She's the one daughter in a family of five, six, ten who, when her mother gets sick, packs up her pre-school kids - even if they have colds, even if they're in the middle of a birthday party - to drive her mother to a doctor, pick up a prescription, stop at a market, then go back to her mother's house and whip up something for dinner.

Or she's the one with the full-time job who visits her father every day on her way home.

Or she's the one who buys the groceries for her mother and the birthday cards, and the Christmas presents, and takes her to the hairdresser, the doctor, the dentist and the podiatrist.

She is the real superwoman.

"You're so good to Mom (or to Dad)," all her siblings say. She has to bite her tongue. She wants to scream, "As if I have a choice!" She wants to yell, "It isn't fair. She's your mother, too!"

But the words are wrong. They imply that she minds taking care of her mother and this isn't so. What bothers her is that everyone assumes this is her duty. And no one offers to help.

When those who don't visit often show up, it's a celebration.

"Guess who's coming to see me today," the mother/father will exclaim. "So-and-so is driving all the way from the Cape (or Maine or New Hampshire)." The visit stands out like a tree on a prairie because it stands alone. You do for someone all the time and it becomes expected. You knock on someone's door every day, then miss a few, and it's, "Where have you been?" not "It's so good to see you."

But when you visit sporadically, you're a hero.

Sometimes a sibling will whisper things to a primary caretaker, like "Well, you know, I never got along with Mom. There's always been friction between us. I wish I could help you, really I do. But I'm dealing with so much emotional baggage these days. She'd rather see you than me. You're good for her. I wouldn't be."

And this might be true. There may be friction between mother and daughter. But it's still an excuse. It's still a way to duck responsibility.

Then there's the male child who uses his gender to get out of doing his share.

"Hey look," he says to his sister. "You gotta understand something. I can't take Mom to the doctor. She needs a woman with her. She wouldn't want me tagging along. As for shopping, I wouldn't know what to do in a grocery store. I wouldn't know what to buy, and I certainly wouldn't be able to cook anything."

Why not? Women are not born knowing these things. They don't come out of the womb with an innate ability to find the Bran Flakes in Aisle 3. This is learned behavior. So is boiling water and frying an egg. "I can't" and "I don't know how" are more lame excuses. There are men in this world who shop and cook and care for their mothers.

Then there are the words "Don't expect me to take Mom to the doctor. I don't do doctors." Or, "Hospitals make me crazy. I can't handle seeing people in pain."

Hospitals make everyone crazy. Nobody likes hanging around a doctor's office. But the caretaker puts a loved one's needs before her own. A caretaker thinks, how would I feel if I were the one who was old and sick and lonely.

"Our kids are grown," one husband of a caretaker says. "My wife should be able to have a little time for herself. But we can't leave her mother. She's forgetful. She turns on the stove to make tea then forgets what she's doing and the teapot burns. She takes a shower and has to be reminded to shut off the water. I said to my wife, `Ask your brother to take her for a few weeks. He has the room.' So she asked, but he said he works and his wife works, and it wouldn't be safe to leave her alone. He suggested we hire someone to watch her. He never said `Let's split the cost' or anything like that. He just handed the responsibility back to us."

Adult children of old and dependent parents need to ask themselves "Am I doing my fair share?" They need to remember the countless times their mothers and fathers went out of their way for them and try to give back a little of what they were given.

For when one sibling does everything, resentment grows, not toward sickly parents, but toward brothers and sisters who do nothing to help.