Dying Wiser #10: Dual Citizenship

Wisdom through Literature; Eldering though Dad—Passports Required!

“Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.”

~ Susan Sontag in “Illness as Metaphor”

And if you are a caretaker of one who is a citizen of that other place, you live in both kingdoms simultaneously.

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This is a great passage from Susan Sontag from her 1978 essay, turned short book, “Illness as Metaphor.” She wrote it while she herself was in treatment for cancer.

Sontag shows cancer for what it is--just a disease. Cancer, she argues, “is not a curse, not a punishment, certainly not an embarrassment….”

And shouldn’t we be able to say the same for Parkinson’s and dementia?

Yes we should. And we try…every day.

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Exploring the Metaphor—Through Dad

Dad resigned his dual citizenship shortly after it became apparent he was no longer able to live by himself. Shortly after that came the news of the exact location of his destination on his journey to the kingdom of the sick—his diagnoses of Parkinson’s and dementia. Before the diagnoses, though, he was needing to use that second passport more and more because signs were indicating he was taking day trips on a regular basis—as he relinquished, slowly and reluctantly, his capacity for independence. The exact date when he gave up his passport to the kingdom of the well isn’t known exactly, he apparently didn’t get a visa stamp on his sojourns away; but he was becoming a frequent visitor to those other places, and away from his home kingdom, with each passing month from the day mom died.

We’ve shared that Dad lived a relatively healthy life and lifestyle. He was rarely sick and equally rarely did he have to nurse injuries that set him back for any length of time. He never smoked (though he was a second-hand smoke breather for a number of years due to mom’s smoking), and he was not a big alcohol drinker. He did have surgery on his back when he was in his forties to ease the pain from bulging discs, likely caused from some kind of farm-sourced injury or repetitive trauma like hundreds of hours on a bumpy tractor. He had a second spinal surgery after mom died to correct a significant lumbar spine stenosis. But given the “could-have-beens,” Dad’s been healthy. No major heart issues, no debilitating arthritis, no cancers. He was a strong resident in the kingdom of the well; and he loved it there for all his body allowed him to do.

Dad didn’t like traveling to the kingdom of the sick so even if he didn’t feel well, he hardly visited. He had to have had a tremendous threshold to withstand and endure pain and discomfort. Couple that with his in-born stubbornness and pride and you have a man who wanted all appearances to reflect that he only ever needed a passport to the kingdom of the well. Forget the other one…not gonna go there.

Until he found himself a reluctant passenger on the plane to dementia.

Passengers on that plane turn in their passports to the kingdom of the well for good upon boarding. There is no going back; no return trip. Dementia and Parkinson’s are one-way tickets.

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Eldering 101–Pack well, you’re gonna need it.

I think Susan Sontag is eloquent in this, one of life’s truisms. Upon birth, we each were given those two blue and gold passports—we all will experience ill-health, in some form of its various guises. We don’t know how long we’ll be citizens in either realm; just like we don’t know how long Dad will be in the kingdom of dementia. We just know he’ll never return to our kingdom, assuming you are residing currently in wellness, as a full-time resident. And therein lies a very interesting question—one worth pondering as preparation before we, ourselves, board whatever vessel is going to take us to our own next destination in need of a passport that is away from our place of wellness:

“If you have a chronic condition, do you always give up your passport to the kingdom of the well?”

It’s intriguing to consider. I think it depends.

But I’ll leave that for a later time.

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Accompanying Dad on his trip to his kingdom of the sick has been enlightening in so many ways. Make no mistake, this foreign territory is rough and primitive and primal. Most of the time, it’s not a fun place so I’m hoping my own passport to a kingdom of the sick I’m destined to visit is to a different destination. And I hope I’ve packed better than Dad for the journey. That’s a Dad Eldering right there.

But, I don’t know. I know how genetics work; how DNA encodes certain kingdom destinations into their very nature and how those codes are passed on to progeny such that the same family who share the same genes can have multiple visitors to the same kingdom of the sick over time. So, we’ll see. But until then, I’m taking notes and trying to find all the happy places in Dad’s dark kingdom of the sick to not only make sure we visit and play in those areas now, but so that I might remember where they are in case I have to use my own passport there.

Can a person with Parkinson’s, and/or dementia, or cancer, or depression, or AIDS, or etc. retain their dual citizenship with faith they will return to their place of wellness origin?

I’m convinced Dad has given up his dual citizenship—but for the past couple days, since I read this passage and decided to write on it, I’ve been wondering deeply about the nature of dual citizenship, specifically: What is the nature of wellness? Of Illness? Of healing and suffering? Of dementia? Of acceptance and grace and the beauty of living that includes dying?

To repeat: “Can one have a chronic, even debilitating condition and still be in the kingdom of the well?”

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Maybe each of us answers that question only for ourselves and for no one else. This means it’s a very personal question that only you can answer when you are about to take that first step toward that other kingdom where you would need your second passport. And maybe, despite how well you have planned, and prepped, and packed, you truly won’t have your own answer until you take your second step.

I’m learning from Dad, accepting his Elderings as if they were postcards from that other kingdom, because I intend to retain my dual citizenship. I know how genetics and inherited traits work in family trees, so I don’t know if Parkinson’s or dementia are future destinations for me. I am certain, however, the most important preparation for those outer journeys (of health or illness) happen inside ourselves—in our own minds and hearts.

To better prepare for any outer journey you may need to travel, especially to the kingdom of the sick, you are best served to know well what lies within yourself. Knowledge gleaned from the inner journey always paves a smoother outer journey to any destination.

The journey to that second kingdom, and however long we are obligated to stay, can be made more smooth—with less suffering. Maybe even no suffering. But this requires a lot of inner cultivating of deep resources within mind and spirit. You may still need that other passport, but the trip there doesn’t have to include fear or suffering. There’s only one question to be asked with this realization:

“How are YOU preparing for that trip?”

Because you’re going.

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To continue the metaphor, as I see our role now, as we live with Dad in his new kingdom, and just as most curious tourists do in a foreign land, we are searching for all the places of joy, and light, and experiences, and happiness in the dark land of dementia—even when the weather becomes very dark and gloomy. Any place you might visit has its attractions—it just takes some planning and imagination to find or create them. And sometimes, having a good guide can make all the difference.

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And then there’s this…

There is a subtle and unmentioned, yet important, aspect to Sontag’s metaphor of two kingdoms. She says we are born with two passports in hand—to the kingdom of the sick AND the well. But you only need passports when you visit countries other than your own. Her implication is that our home isn’t even in the kingdom of the well. Interesting….

So, given her metaphor, isn’t it provocative and profound to consider our one, true country of origin? Where’s our true home? Where’s YOUR true home?

THAT’s a place you never need a passport. And that is why Dad is here with us now as we travel with him to make his way “back there,” to his true home, smooth, safe, and loving. That’s why this whole endeavor is called “Dad’s Journey Home.”

There, in THAT place, free of any concept of wellness and illness, you are free to roam.

Maybe Dad will be MY guide when I get there myself.

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T plus 120 days … and counting. TSA pre-check not necessary; and you can skip customs. Pack lightly…but well. Destination…always home.