We may need to think this through.
At a recent San Francisco Bay Area End-of-Life Network lunch meeting, a friend casually mentioned being the middle-slice bread(winner) in a club sandwich generation. Seriously worried about the cost of keeping her 94-year-old demented mother in a care facility, she is also helping her son and daughter-in-law with their preschool children while both parents work. Club sandwich generation? Horrors.
The term seems to have been around for at least three or four years, but I managed to miss it earlier. I am not entirely thrilled about it now. How many generations will we eventually sandwich in? Does it not make sense for a few of us on the top to layer off?
So OK, I’m not quite 94 and not quite demented. At least, as well as I can remember. But I do have my advance directive done with all the DNRs and dementia provisions and Leave It Be messages possible, and hopefully before I get to the point of Medicaid-funded nursing home, because every penny saved has been spent, I’ll be toast.