From the New York Times archive:
The Dillon families experience caring for the Dillon patriarch.
www.nytimes.com/2004/09/16/health/16goodbye.html
A wonderful sharing of how one family is doing their best to take care of their own, but also a good example of the sacrifices family caregivers go through.
Both of Mr. Dillon's sons live close by and adore their father, who used to take all the neighborhood children on camping trips in the Poconos. They visit daily, inviting Mr. Dillon for a round of pitch-and-putt or a slice of pizza. When David Dillon, the police officer, had to work straight through the Republican National Convention, his brother picked up the slack. The reverse will happen next winter when Chris Dillon is summoned for snowstorm overtime at the Sanitation Department. Both are insistent that caring for their father is a privilege, not an imposition. "It's not a burden at all," David Dillon said. "I never look at it that way. I've always loved spending time with him and I still do."
His wife, Colette, is equally devoted. "There are fathers and then there are storybook fathers like Christy," said Ms. Dillon, an executive with a commercial real estate firm. At the house one recent day, her eyes brimmed with tears and she tenderly held her father-in-law's hand. "To be asked to do something for him . . . ," she said, her voice trailing off. "He would have done it for any of us a thousand times over."
Giving Mr. Dillon, 66, a shower is unbearable for his wife, Kitty, 63, despite her long experience working in a nursing home.
"It's overwhelming, worse every day," Mrs. Dillon said recently, wincing from stomach pain and steadily losing weight. "I don't have any life. Whatever happened to the golden years? Both of us have been robbed of everything we worked for."
David and Colette Dillon marvel that humor lingers when so much is gone. Mr. Dillon accompanied them to the mall recently, where David was buying a suit. When his son was not paying attention, Mr. Dillon donned a Kelly green jacket, the kind that Bob Hope might wear. "Shuuush!" he told his daughter-in-law, apparently eager to keep his costume a surprise. "He knew it was funny," she said. "This is a good time in the disease because we can still connect with him."
But Mrs. Dillon's good humor is fading. One day he will not know her. "Look after yourself; you can't take care of him if you don't take care of yourself." She hears this daily from well-meaning relatives and friends. But like so many other spouses in her situation, she often refuses relief.
