Planning for your 50th birthday party, when you’re a frugal introvert, is challenging. I am not one who likes a lot of attention. Nor do I like to attend or host big social events. All that type of stuff makes me uncomfortable and drains my social battery. However, I had decided to step out of my comfort zone and go big. I mean, I’m only going to turn 50 once in a lifetime. So, I started planning. I decided I wanted an intimate dinner setting with the people I loved sitting around a rustic wooden table. I could picture it clearly. There would be twinkling lights, flowers, a farmhouse feel, and maybe it would be in a barn somewhere nearby. I just wanted a slow-paced evening full of joy and laughter where people would come, relax, enjoy a memorable evening and know they are loved. I started a guest list and quickly realized that I would love to sit around a table with more than just a few people. I also realized that I probably didn’t have the budget or time to plan a dinner in a barn with twinkly lights hanging from the rafters. So, I shortened the list, asked my sister to host at her house, and settled for dinner around a couple wooden tables, with a few lights outside on the porch.

The party was scheduled for Saturday, November 12th, the day after my actual birthday. I sent out the invitations. I started shopping. I bought cute napkins and a case of my favorite wines. Things were coming together nicely. Even though it wasn’t what I had originally dreamed, it was going to be a sweet celebration with friends and family. I was proud of myself for stepping out and making something happen that was just for me. Even when I write that I cringe. I don’t like things to be “just for me.” I am one who likes to serve, but this was different.

But then, life was interrupted. About two weeks prior to the party, my dad suffered a stroke and my siblings, and I had to make an emergency trip to South Carolina. My 78-year-old dad, who was my mom’s only caregiver, was now in the hospital with little use of his left arm and lots of looming questions about the future. In addition, this meant that someone had to be at my parent’s home to take care of mom. This exact event had been something my siblings and I had been warning my dad about for years. We knew a day like this would come. We told him he needed to make arrangements just in case. He didn’t. It may have been because it was “easier” this way. Or it may have been that nobody else could do it as well as he did. Or maybe it was too costly and troublesome. Whatever the reason, he didn’t and now the responsibility fell on us kids to make preparations and plans for what to do next.

Caring for a quadriplegic isn’t something just anyone knows how to do. There’s the transferring from chair to bed which requires lifting and shifting dead weight of about 170 pounds. There is the adjusting and turning of the body once she’s in bed, not to mention the mandatory turning during the night to prevent bed sores. There are also meds that have to be administered at certain times, water and food that have to be given, as well as any dressing or bathroom needs that need to be taken care of. Then, there is the morning which is a whole separate routine. Emptying the night urine bag and changing it out to the day bag. Stretching the arms and legs. Changing out of night clothing and dressing for the day. Transferring back to the chair from the bed. Feeding breakfast. Wiping the nose, cleaning the face. Administering meds again. Brusing teeth, brushing hair, applying lotion. Making breakfast and feeding breakfast. The list goes on. My siblings and I had been around mom enough and cared for her on certain occasions that we knew what to do. So, we went to South Carolina and did it. We put our lives in Georgia on hold, which meant abruptly stepping away from work and our families to assist mom and dad. It also meant putting the party on the backburner for a little bit.

When my brother and I arrived in South Carolina, we decided that dividing and conquering would be best. He spent time at the hospital with dad and I stayed home to care for mom. At this point, the future looked bleak. My dad had a 90 percent blocked carotid artery that required surgery and possibly a long recovery.

We stepped into action and started frantically searching for homes that were equipped to care for an elderly quadriplegic. As one might imagine, those types of facilities basically do not exist. There are memory care facilities, places to assist with living, and nursing homes. There were no places, especially in a crunch, that could handle mom’s care. Phone call after phone call we were turned down. Time was of the essence. We knew we had a possible quick fix through hospice that provided a 5-day respite. However, the two closest facilities were at capacity. Fortunately, we got a call from a hospice place about an hour and a half from their home. They had room and were willing to take her for 5 days. It was decided that we would drive mom there and get her settled in until we could find a more permanent place to care for her.

After driving her to the facility in Columbia, SC, my brother and I returned to Rock Hill to check in with dad at the hospital. There was still no surgery date, but he seemed to be doing well and gaining some mobility back in his left arm that had been affected. Things were stable. We headed back to Georgia. My sister would make a trip up the following week to check in with dad, possibly bring him home from surgery and go visit mom.

We were running out of time. Our 5-day respite period was coming to an end. The hospice place could allow her to extend her stay. However, this meant the charge to keep mom there would jump to $300 a day. We had no choice but to extend the stay and pay the money. Dad was finally scheduled to have surgery. The surgery was a success, but the recovery was going to be long. This would mark the beginning of the end of his days caring for mom.

Mom stayed in the respite care for a total of 15 days, at a whopping charge of 3,000 dollars. We finally found a place in Georgia to care for mom. Dad was on the mend, with the help of neighbors. Things were moving in the right direction, except for the party. There was no more time to plan for a party, and there was certainly no energy to host one. So, the party was cancelled, and I was bummed.