AARP Hearing Center
Writer Lyn Rosenswig reflects on how she felt when her father, Perry Rosensweig, decided he wanted to die by not eating.
Tara Anand
“I hate to bother you on vacation,” began the call from my sister, and I knew that my Thanksgiving break in the Caribbean with my husband, children and extended family was over.
“Dad just told me he had decided to stop eating and drinking.” And so began a very long two weeks.
That Saturday in the Dominican Republic, those at the Thanksgiving gathering hugged and kissed goodbye, and swore we would never again drink to good health as we all had without crossing our fingers or throwing salt over our shoulders or something.
On the plane ride back to Newark, New Jersey, I reflected on how over the years my father, Perry Rosensweig, now 87, had spoken about the group Compassion & Choices, which had worked to empower people to chart their end-of-life journey. My mother had developed Parkinson’s disease in her 60s, and my father was the primary caregiver until her death a couple of years earlier. That he did not want a similar end was not illogical.
He had been an executive in a major toy company and often talked about the three P’s of negotiation: preparation, persistence and patience. For instance, he successfully negotiated the division of labor in his marriage: He was the major earner, and in addition to her job, my mother was responsible for household duties and cooking.
After retirement, they moved to Florida and played golf, tennis, bridge and poker, and loved their “summer camp,” as my father called it. When my mother’s disease progressed, my father sold their home, moved to an independent living complex in New Jersey to be closer to us, and renegotiated the terms of his marriage: He learned to use the washer and dryer, and even tried (unsuccessfully) to cook.
I was feeling a bit guilty. Even though he was supposed to (and did) celebrate Thanksgiving with my sibling, I felt I shouldn’t have left him. I had spoken to him daily and visited once or twice a week, but maybe it wasn’t enough? I was also now remembering what my father taught me — the P’s — and preparing myself to talk with him. I’d planned to have yet another discussion about geriatric depression and the usefulness of antidepressants. To my surprise, when I arrived at his home, my father was chipper as ever. Here are snippets of conversations which I wrote down shortly afterward:
Lyn: Dad, what happened? What led you to this decision? What are you doing?
Dad: I woke up on Thanksgiving Day and decided I had plenty to be thankful for: 61 years of a beautiful marriage, three children and their wonderful spouses, four grandchildren and their spouses, and two great-grandchildren. I have blocked arteries and a blocked vein; why should I wait until I have a stroke and end up incapacitated and have you suffer while I am in la-la land?
Lyn: Why do you think you are going to have a stroke?
Dad: I am a poker player. You got to know when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. It’s time to fold ’em.
And so continued the negotiations, but Dad was ready for us.
On Sunday and Monday, my children came to visit.
“But Grandpa, I think I am going to get engaged this month, can’t you wait?”
“I love talking to you about the market.”
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