As children, our independence is limited and seemingly granted at the whim of our parents. When adolescence hits, it seems the real fun begins; we struggle for a separate identity from that of our parents and demonstrate out need to push the envelope, learning our limits in a sometimes painful way.

When caring for a loved one, the limits and rules of engagement (yes, there's sometimes appropriate conflict) are changed. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it can be a frustrating and painful process.

Last week I talked about "Driving Mr. Reagan" (note reference to Miss Daisy). I had recently learned the Secret Service was faced with the challenge of limiting the actions of a former President. Not to be outdone, I looked back at my transition from daughter to chauffer.

Mom
As Mom got sicker, her ability to get in and out of the car became limited. Funny, she had the mental facilities to drive, but physically she wasn't up to the challenge. Being a control freak (lovingly and truthfully said), she became pissed (her term, lol). As her liver further shut down, her limbs became stiffer and she daily was losing agility. When she realized she could not physically get into the driver's seat, she cried and raged, then shook it off and passed the keys. When she needed to go to a doctor's appointment, she would use a non-emergency medical transportation service.

Dad
Early in Dad's journey toward dementia, he and my husband went for a "guys weekend." The two sauntered off to Juneau, Alaska, our capital, which is accessible only by air or water. They flew in and rented a car. When they returned, my husband was pale and shaking; my dad was furious. As my husband told tales of my dad's erratic driving, it became clear just how confused my dad was becoming. He'd run red lights, stopped for green lights and drove numerous other drivers off the road. By weekend's end, "the men" turned in the keys to the rental car. The rental agency contacted the police and an officer arrived to have a chat with Dad and my husband. It seems the locals were afraid for their life and made numerous calls to the car-rental agency and local police. The car-rental agent was instructed to contact the police if/when the car was returned. The police politely explained that Dad was no longer welcome, needed to go home, and if he should decide to return to Juneau (which they did not recommend), he would not be driving. "Run out on a rail" is the term, I believe.

The best for last...Uncle Harry and Aunt Barbara
My uncle and aunt had moved to the retirement community of their dreams. Their children lived hours away, in different states, and were not attuned to the health changes their parents were undergoing. It seems that Aunt Barbara was developing dementia and Uncle Harry was losing his eyesight. In their efforts to stay mobile and independent, they came up with a unique solution. Barbara would drive and Harry would give her directions.

Of course, the bad thing happened and there was an accident; they rear-ended another vehicle. Their insurance company provided a rental while their car was being repaired. And guess what? Yep! Another accident. This time they rear-ended a placarded fuel truck. They could have blown up everyone.

As this incident involved a trucking company and a driver with a commercial driver's license, the authorities this time paid more attention to my aunt and uncle's situation. The state contacted their son (who lived two states away) and gave him 48 hours to find them an alternate living arrangement, as it was no longer safe to leave them home alone. My cousin pushed for more time, but the state used their trump card: "In the interest of public safety." As a result, the two would be separated and sent to separate facilities if my cousin did not resolve their living situation within 48 hours. Fortunately, he was able to comply, and Barbara and Harry were moved into a facility that was both closer to their children and able to address their differing health concerns.

Each of these stories demonstrates the struggle for independence we all will go through, are going through or have gone through. I am reminded of a saying I heard in regards to cancer: "I am more than my cancer." I like to twist that for my caregiving: "My freedom is more than my independence."

As the caregiver, I was/am the living embodiment of my loved ones' loss of independence. I hated to be the bad guy who took the wrap for the diseases' progress. My loved ones were not angry with me, but frustrated with their diseases and resentful that I was party to reducing their independence.

We changed our thinking from a loss of independence to an evolved vision of freedom. While I was taking over duties, the aim was to allow my loved ones to maintain a semblance of their pre-disease life. As long as I respected their need for freedom, we were able to handle the independence/dependence issues without rancor.