By David Johnston

I am currently in rehearsals as the lone male in the Invisible Theatre’s production of “Motherhood Out Loud” in Tucson, AZ.

I have to begin by saying I have never been to a table read for any other play where we had to stop four times to pass around the tissues.  Not because it is sad-quite the contrary-because it is filled with so much heart.

I have two monologues that are so close to my own story I feel as if they were written with me in mind.

10 years ago I was to be the sperm donor for my sister and her partner’s child. My sister-in -law was to carry and I could make their child genetically linked. I went through a battery of tests-only to unfortunately find out I didn’t have very active swimmers.  We went to plan B which involved invitro with an annonymous donor.  I was now just on the perifery but I was going through the excitement with my sisters.  My sister-in-law got pregnant and only carried 12 weeks.  The emotions ran high for months.  She endured several more attempts-getting pregnant each time and each time losing the child at about 12 weeks.  The added difficulty of miscarriage is how unfeeling others can be.  “You can try again”, “It wasn’t meant to be I guess”.  Those are comments from people who knew she was with child-because she never got to the point of showing.  The private mourning became too much for them.  They discussed switching to my sister carrying a child but decided they did not want to deal with one partner being able to do what the other could not.  They decided to adopt and/or foster.

They were on several lists and had all of the items needed for a toddler in their home.

One morning,  they got a call from a hospital telling them there was a newborn available for adoption but they needed an answer in twenty minutes-there are others waiting to adopt as well.  My sisters of course screamed yes and went directly to the hospital.  They brought their daughter home, wrapped in a tablecloth-the only thing resembling a baby blanket that they had.  They were well prepared for a toddler but had nothing for a newborn.

The following morning, all of their local friends were lined up at their door with everything they needed. “Brave new world”!

Knowing how much they wanted a child and what they were willing to go through to be parents, it takes my breath away to think of a surrogate offering to help create a family.  What a loving thing to do.

My mother fell getting out of an elevator about 8 years ago.  She hit her head and needed stitches.  Did she trip, have a stroke or get dizzy? We don’t know and at this point it doesn’t really matter.  It was the first sign that things were changing.  My parents then moved to Tucson because I live here and would  be available to keep an eye on them.  They were young-68-active-they walked everywhere-and healthy.  Other than her accident, my mother had never been in a hospital except to deliver each of her 5 children.  I was invited to have lunch at their condo one day and Mom had set the table.  Each place setting had three pieces of flatware and they were all spoons.  My father held up a spoon and said “I need a fork” my mother responded “That is a fork”.This sign was clear as could be.  Her diagnosis of Alzheimer’s came shortly after.  I recall her frustration when she could not find the right words and just shouted “shit” instead.  I remember her saying she was now broken.  We went through the ginko and the garlic and curry and the crossword puzzles and favorite old books.

They had to move out of the condo when Mom could no longer manage the stairs-she developed a visual aphasia-her world was tipped to one side.  They moved to a senior living environment.  This was a big help.  It gave Mom  social opportunities and got Dad out of the kitchen because meals were prepared in the dining room.

As the child living near my parents, I became the eyes and ears for my out of town sisters.  I tried to keep them informed as the disease progressed with detailed e-mails and phone calls.  Mom was able to stay with Dad for about a year in this new environment.  I was called upon multiple times to calm her down and talk her through some issue.  She was convinced that my father was having women over “when I am not here”.  Seeing as my parents were always together, it was clear that there was no time when Mom wasn’t there-at least physically.  I had to convince my father that the best way to calm her and move forward was to appologize and assure her it would never happen again.  He said “I didn’t do anything wrong”  I explained that in her mind it was all true.  It broke my heart to watch him tell her how sorry he was and that he would not upset her again.

We ended up placing her in care about three and a half years ago.

As of today she is blind, wheel-chair bound and basically does not speak.  She has not known me or my father for about 2 and a half years.

I visit once a week and sing to her.  She recognized my singing voice in a crowded room about three years ago-if she on some level knows that I am there I am happy to sing for her.  I always sing the same song-”Over the Rainbow” because that was the song I sang the last time I knew she knew who I was.  My mother taught me compassion for all living beings.  If I can live my life with that compassion and share it with others-I can honor her.

I feel like a contestant in The Dating Game television show… only I’m participating on behalf of my father. And, it’s not for a love match, but rather a live-in aide… two to be exact.

My mom passed away over ten years ago, and five years after that, we brought in a live-in aide for my father, though she’d really been largely more of a companion. It worked fine for some time, but in recent years, their chemistry has become challenging. Of late, I’ve grown certain that she and my father aren’t compatible long-term. He recently suffered two strokes and now that his needs are more acute, I’m working on bringing in two live-in aides to take shifts who I have greater confidence in in terms of managing my dad’s daily care.

It’s not easy witnessing the deterioration of a beloved parent. My dad was always so vibrant and social, and now, due to aphasia from the stroke, his communication ability is severely compromised and he has weakness on his right side. For the first time in many years, he looks like an old man. G-d bless him… he’s 93… and though he doesn’t look his age, he does look like he has aged. A stroke would knock the socks off anyone, and his recovery is a challenging one. Though he can be stubborn, for the most part he’s a trooper, plodding along with the OT, Speech and Physical Therapy. It’s not easy. There has been improvement, but he’s got a long way to go, and we don’t know how far he’ll get.

His situation brings to mind an endeavor I’m immensely proud to be a part of. I am Associate Producer of Motherhood Out Loud, a play by some of America’s most celebrated writers that had a successful Off-Broadway run recently at Primary Stages in NYC and is now poised to tour worldwide. Motherhood Out Loud shatters traditional notions about parenthood, unveils its inherent comedy and celebrates the deeply personal truths that span and unite generations. One of the pieces by David Cale entitled “Elizabeth,” touched me to the core from the first time I read the script… and even more so when it came to life on stage so poignantly by actor James Lecesne, who speaks the words of both the mother and son in the piece. I’d like to take the opportunity to share a portion of it with you, with the hope that if you find yourself parenting an elderly parent, you will know you’re not alone…

Read the rest of the article on The Huffington Post