Moms

A World Without Moms

Last Summer, the Middlebrow lost his mother and the Renaissance Son lost his Nonna. Now, The Scholar Wife lost her mother, and the Renaissance Son lost his babushka. This is life past 50. It creeps up and shocks.

Luba Gural is an amazing woman who survived some of the 20th centuries worst atrocities to become a business executive and educator. The Scholar Wife’s skillful obituary tells the story. She is a kind and joyous woman, and I will admit as son-in-law that she is also difficult in the way that real people always are. She has ideas and ideals and she lives them. She is not afraid to express them, even if you disagree.

She has also always been very generous and supportive but always refused to advertise it. When Luba does you a favor, it’s for the result, not a performance. I knew before yesterday evening that she once didn’t allow one of The Scholar Wife’s friends to stay over in her home with her boyfriend because she did not believe in pre-marital coupling. I did not know until yesterday evening that she also extended financial support to that same woman, when she needed it, without even telling The Scholar Wife. Luba does not act for applause, she does what she believes is right to do.

Luba lived actively. She liked motion, she loved the beach, liked to travel, enjoyed a well mixed Manhattan and adored singing in her church choir. She needed her body to remain healthy but it betrayed her as she got older and she suddenly needed people around her who would give her options toward motion, freedom and agency. This will happen to all of us who live long lives, and it’s worth thinking about.

I will always be proud that our family fought against her ever moving into a skilled nursing care facility. We always pushed for and demanded her freedom. We resisted “taking away the car keys” when it was clearly premature, and we took her from Massachusetts to New York City when we knew she could get better care and therapy here. That’s not my typical geographic bigotry, by the way, despite my insistence that everything is better here in New York. Luba had “Parkinsonism Symptoms,” and here we found physical therapists who practice LSVT BIG Therapy that reduced her tremors, got her out of her wheelchair and had her playing fetch with our doggess/goddess, Athena. In Western Massachusetts, a wealthy community, the Scholar Wife only found one LSVT BIG therapist and when he moved onto another profession, that was that.

When Luba went into skilled care at a facility that The Scholar Wife managed to find and place her in during the pandemic, we participated in all of the “care plan” meetings and initiated many of our own. The staff at these facilities may well be good people but they are underpaid and overworked and you absolutely have to let them know you are paying attention. When a loved one goes into a home, you become a case manager and the people doing the work must have a sense that you are holding them accountable. That’s reality.

When your loved one moves into a home, you might find it difficult to get them care that is common and medically accepted. For example, Botox injections ease the pain of people who, like Luba, suffer from migraines. This is not controversial. Botox helps with migraine pain where pills fail. I know people in their 20s and their 80s who swear by it. But it means a trip to a neurologist and for a skilled nursing facility, it’s a hassle unless you can come take them to the appointment yourself. I can’t tell you how many “care plan” meetings were dominated by our telling them that the pills were not helping her migraines but that a quarterly trip for Botox would work. I am embarrassed by how few of those trips happened. There was always some reason to reschedule even though the equation was an hour trip for three to four months of her freedom from pain.

The lesson here may be obvious but it’s worth stating clearly: your loved ones in skilled care need your advocacy. Ask questions. Make requests. Do not worry about seeming rude or entitled. Those who do not ask really get nothing. Estimates vary but between a quarter and a third of older people spend some time in a nursing home in the United States. Follow the golden rule and fight for them the way you would want to be fought for.

My mother in law lived to see 88. A good run, some will say. I firmly believe she could have seen 100. Signs were missed. Mistakes were made. These have so far not been acknowledged or even brought up for discussion. Those involved have “moved on,” as they prefer to do. If you sense some anger from me here, you’re reading the right way. It’s not appropriate for me to go into details here but, I have questions.

Luba lived impactfully. As a child, she survived life in a German refugee camp, her family persecuted by Stalin. She had to grow up too soon, caring for younger siblings in a state of captivity and deprivation. There is a story she told me about scraping flour together to create something of a pancake for her starving toddler brother that haunts me and hurts my gut to think about. A devout Russian Orthodox Christian, she refused to succumb to bitterness about her suffering. Suffering without using the easy salve of anger and resentment is the lesson of her Christ and she devoted herself to that. When she came to the United States she threw herself into a new culture. She earned two master’s degrees, raised two wonderful daughters, married a brilliant and demanding professor and entrepreneur, and became involved in local and national politics. Before Mary Matalin and James Carville, Luba juggled invitations to the Nixon White House and the Reagan inauguration while married to a radical Marxian economics professor.

Luba and I had a loving relationship. It was not frictionless, her trust was something earned over many years and I have told my share of “mother in law” jokes. But she understood we were on the same side and it was an honor to try to help her when she needed it.

Goodbye, Luba. Tomorrow, we would have celebrated your birthday. Instead, the Renaissance Son will be leaving for his trip to Tokyo, indulging a worldly and adventurous impulse that comes from all sides of his immigrant origins. He’ll be thinking of you and will do you proud.