Do your mom & dad have enough money to last through retirement? Many children are worried that due to market losses over the past few years, their parents may not have enough to live comfortably through their "golden years". Does this mean that son's & daughters will need to pitch in to keep them afloat? How do you have the "money talk" with mom & dad? |
For most children, their parents are the people in charge of taking care of them from infancy and even into adulthood. Mom and Dad were there to bandage your boo-boos, sing you to sleep, and soothe you when you were sick. But as the population ages—and more are afflicted with age-related diseases such as Alzheimer's, stroke and cancer—the tables are often turned on parents and their now-adult children.
According to statistics from the National Institute on Aging, there were 37 million people age 65 or older in 2006; that's about 12 percent of the population. But by 2030, as the Baby Boomer generation ages, that number is predicted to rise dramatically. Projections forecast that approximately 71.5 million people—about 20 percent of the population—will be 65 or older. Alzheimer's disease currently affects 5 million Americans, and strokes, which also afflict about 5 million people, are the number-one cause of adult disability.
Finding answers to tricky questions
For most adult children who are thrust into a caregiving role for a parent, the change happens suddenly. "It usually starts with a phone call, and it's like getting hit over the head," says Andy Cohen, CEO of caring.com, a Web site that offers support and advice to caregivers.Look Closer, See Me
What do you see nurses, what do you see?
Are you thinking when you are looking at me— A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far-away eyes.
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,
When you say in a loud voice—"I do wish you'd try."
Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding the long day to fill.
Is that what you are thinking—is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse, you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still;
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will,
I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother,
Brothers and sister, who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet;
A bride soon at twenty—my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep;
At twenty-five now I have young of my own,
Who need me to build a secure, happy home;
A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last;
At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more babies play round my knee.
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead.
I look at the future, I shutter with dread,
For my young are all rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I've known.
I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel—
'Tis’ her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart;
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living life over again.
I think of the years all too few—gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, nurses, open and see
Not a crabby old woman, look closer see me!
Courtesy of the Peninsula Hospital Center, Far Rockaway,
New York, and Greater New Hospital Association.
