Archive Notes: This is an English translation and rewritten version of a blog post originally published in Japanese on May 30, 2019. [Japanese version]
Yesterday, I accompanied my mother to the hospital because she needed to get a brain MRI scan.
If I were to walk there at my own pace, it would only take about 7 to 8 minutes.
But for my mother, it takes almost double that time. Still, I suppose I should be grateful that she can walk at all.
First, you have to sit at the reception desk to fill out your address, name, date of birth, and phone number, but even doing that has become impossible for her now.
Once your name is called, a staff member guides you to the front of the examination room. However, she is hard of hearing, so if she were alone, she probably wouldn’t even notice her name being called.
Since she relies heavily on a walker to get around, just going to the restroom is a major ordeal.
Once she goes inside, she doesn’t come out for over 5 minutes…
I always find myself getting incredibly anxious, worrying if the scan is about to start without her.
Then came changing into the hospital gown, and let me tell you, getting her pants off and back on was an absolute struggle, to say the very least.
Of course, there is a round stool provided in the changing room, but just sitting down and standing back up takes a monumental effort.
Is this really what happens to everyone once they cross the age of 80?
I could have sworn she was still riding a bicycle back when she was in her 70s, but now, she can barely even manage to stay standing.
I’ve also been accompanying her to the dentist, but honestly, I have no idea what she’s even going there for anymore.
Even when I buy high-end, ultra-tender thin slices of beef, she won’t eat them, saying, “I can’t chew it.”
Because she doesn’t eat meat, she loses muscle mass, and as a result, she just keeps getting thinner and thinner.
When I ask her, “Is it because it hurts when you try to chew?” I never get a straight answer.
Then I follow up with, “Well, maybe your dentures just don’t fit right? Did you explain that properly to the dentist?”—but again, no proper answer.
My guess is that when the dentist asks her, “How does it feel?” she probably just answers on the spot with something like, “Oh, it’s perfectly fine.”
When I asked, “Should I come into the examination room with you and tell them?” she snapped back, “Don’t you dare do that!” (Haha.)
And since she hates going, the very next words out of her mouth are always, “Maybe I should just stop going to the dentist altogether.”
At this rate, it feels like no matter which dentist we go to, things are never going to improve.＞＜
Once your teeth go bad, your entire physical health starts deteriorating. She is completely trapped in a negative spiral now. It’s truly tough to deal with.
My father’s footing has also been unsteady ever since his stroke, but his muscles are still quite solid, making him completely different from my mother.
Since they both light up with joy whenever I bring over 4-year-old Yuina and 7-month-old Riona, I make a conscious effort to take the kids to see them as much as possible.
Seeing my father and mother like this these days makes me realize more than ever: I want to stay sharp and independent for as long as I’m alive, so I absolutely have to put in the effort now.
