Going home to India as an octogenarian

As baby boomers face aging into an overburdened medical system, they also have to deal with taking care of their parents as they enter the same system. And if you’re an immigrant to the U.S., this presents an added difficulty – do you take care of them here, far away from home, or let them age on their own, thousands of miles away?

This was the problem that Indian-American Cynthia D’Souza had to grapple with when it came to caring for her 80-year-old mother, Betty Kamath. From the KALW archives, here’s KALW’s Sandip Roy with their story.

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SANDIP ROY: Every year, Betty Kamath spends Christmas with her family. Children. Grandchildren. Great-grandchildren. They tried to keep up the tradition last Christmas, even though she was thousands of miles away in Bangalore, while the rest of the family was gathered in California.

Sitting in the spacious kitchen of her suburban home in Walnut Creek, surrounded by family pictures, Betty’s daughter Cynthia D’Souza describes how they try to bridge the gap.

CYNTHIA D’SOUZA: We called her and kept her on the line for about two hours, and we have done that every Christmas eve. So when she goes to lunch at noon with her new family over there, she feels, "Oh, I have already touched base with everyone." She has news to share.

Eighty-year-old Betty Kamath’s new family is made up of the nuns who run Cleta’s, an old age home in the heart of the high-tech city of Bangalore. Betty moved to the United States in 1993, after her husband, an army officer in India, died. Her three children lived in California. And she spent her time shuttling between them – six months in Los Angeles with her son and daughter, six months in the Bay Area with her other daughter.

She says it took some adjusting, but she settled in.

BETTY KAMATH: See I like TV. I do jigsaw puzzles, do crossword puzzles.

She had a favorite TV show:

KAMATH: "Bold and Beautiful." Because that had just started when I was leaving Bangalore. I never hooked on to any of the others.

But then the rheumatoid arthritis that had plagued her for 30 years started getting worse. Two knee replacements bought her a few years. But when the doctor said the arthritis would progressively worsen, Betty Kamath decided it was time to go home – not where the children were, not where she’d become a citizen, but India.

Before Betty said anything, her daughter suspected something was up.

D’SOUZA: We knew all along that mom is thinking about something, because you could see the frustration in her trying to maneuver herself around this kitchen table, trying to go up the stairs.

D’Souza thought she might need more help at home, but when her mother told her she wanted to move to Bangalore, Cynthia was taken aback.

D’SOUZA: At that time I said, "Are you sure mom?" And she was so definite. All she said was, "Can you help me in this transition?" The tears just flowed.

The United States might have the best medical care in the world, her children might be around her, her grandson might be a doctor at Stanford, but Kamath says she couldn’t bear the thought that one day she might have to live in an old age home and nursing facility in America. She remembers visiting a family friend who did.

KAMATH: She was paying $15,000 a month, or something like that. You go there, it’s like a five-star hotel: all the old ladies are sitting – nails painted, lipstick, hair done, they are sitting there. They’re not talking to each other although they are living in the same place. I didn’t want that.

And then there was the help:

KAMATH: I saw the ways those girls treated the older people. They are quite rude, they grumble if you call too much. I mean, you won’t find that over in India.

In India, Betty Kamath has her own attendant, a young woman whom she is teaching English. Her corner room is sunny. The bedspread on her bed has a big heart embroidered with the names of the grandchildren. There’s a family photo on the desk from their last Christmas together. The picture of the newest great-grandson is pasted onto it.

KAMATH: I had the chance to see the first two. Third one was born after I came. But you can’t have everything!

Cynthia D’Souza is relieved that the facilities are good and the nuns are caring. She says many of her friends who moved to the U.S. brought their parents, often widowed mothers, to live with them. Now they worry about how to take care of them.

D’SOUZA: Sad stories. Sad, sad stories.

ROY: Like what?

D’SOUZA: Like one mom had to be put in a nursing home because she broke her hip and she died there. And you feel helpless in this country because you are so dependent on what their medical coverage is, and what others can do.

Betty Kamath is back in India, except home isn’t really home any more.

KAMATH: It’s nice but not the Bangalore I knew. I was born and brought up in Bangalore, and in those days it was known as pensioners' paradise. There were big houses and gardens and whatnot. Now, that’s all gone! You see only multi-storied buildings.

She’s come a long way, but her health confines her to her room with her crossword puzzles and her Tylenol. She needs help to get out of bed. But she says she has no regrets. Well, almost none.

KAMATH: I had to get used to the food. As I tell people, it’s a home away from home, except for the food. But you can’t grumble, it’s edible!

Her children try to visit every year and call once a week. Cynthia says she looks at her mother and wonders about where she will spend her own old age.

D’SOUZA: I get used to India within 24 hours of going. But my children are all here, my grandchildren are all here, and I feel it would be a disservice for them to feel obligated to come see us and to make that journey. So I think we will make ourselves happy here.

This story originally aired on April 27, 2010. It was made possible by a fellowship from the South Asian Journalists Association.