There is no playbook for the hard reality that TCU’s Jamie Dixon navigates daily

Cancer took Jamie Dixon’s dad, but watching his mother try to live any life with Parkinson’s Disease may actually be worse.

Both his mother in-law and father-in-law are struggling, too, and Dixon had a game on Saturday at Kansas State, and another at Texas Tech on Tuesday.

(BTW: TCU defeated K-State on Saturday on a last-second 3-pointer from Jameer Nelson Jr.)

Easily lost, forgotten and minimized in following a team is that the people who play and coach the games have lives that don’t stop, and don’t look that much different than anyone else.

In Dixon’s case, he is navigating a fact of life that too often is a little-discussed reality that can be a shadow stressor on families which can last for years: Caring for aging parents.

“There are no good answers,” the TCU men’s basketball coach said in an interview this week in his office. “This is hard.

“The guilt is just ... there is huge guilt.”

It’s hard if you live down the street, or states away. Because so often you crave to do something, when usually there is nothing much that can be done other than watch a person you love turn into someone who does not recognize you.

The family lost his youngest sister, Maggie Dixon, in 2006; she was 28 when she abruptly died of a heart condition. Jamie had to tell his parents that their daughter was gone, a moment he calls the worst day of his life.

As hard as that was, nothing prepares a person to help their parents when their bodies/minds refuse to work. Because this all can be so slow.

This process began for Dixon the year after he was hired by TCU as its basketball coach, in 2018. His father, Jim, had dealt with a few cancers. His mother, Marge, began to show signs of Parkinson’s.

Beginning in 2020, Dixon would fly from DFW to L.A. a few times a month to see his parents, and sister, Julie. His parents lived in the same two-bedroom house they bought for $30,000 when they moved from New York to Studio City, Calif., 53 years ago.

Once the season began, after practice was done he would take the 6 p.m. flight from DFW to L.A., and spend the off day with his parents. Less than 48 hours later, he would board the 6 a.m. flight to return to work.

His parents were one of the reasons Dixon considered taking the UCLA job when it was open in 2019.

“My dad was a traveler so he got it; at no point did they say, ‘We need you to come back and take care of us,’” Dixon said.

Because of proximity, Julie takes on the heavier part of this. Because of proximity, Jamie defers to his sister on most of the “decisions.”

There were months, in ‘20 and ‘21, when his mother had to be in a rehab facility. Since it was the time of COVID, in California, seeing her in person didn’t happen much, or at all.

Marge, 83, returned home but eventually went to a skilled nursing center. After some time there, she wanted to go home.

“We had to find a care giver 24 hours a day; that’s a challenge because you have to find them and you have to constantly monitor that,” he said. “What you have to remember is that (his parents) are not the same people. They say things that are not them.

“You can’t hold that against them. You’re just trying to keep them comfortable and safe.”

While this was all going on, Dixon’s in-laws began to struggle and needed assistance. There were some falls. Some memory issues.

For several months they both lived with Dixon and his wife at their house in Fort Worth until recently their respective needs exceeded what the family could provide. They both now live in a care facility.

When Jim Dixon died on Feb. 6, the family was prepared. He had been told he had about one year to live, and that’s what he had. He was 86.

According to Jamie, his mother is not aware that her husband is gone. She’s no longer able to walk, and she is not entirely sure who her children are all the time.

Talking on the phone is an exercise in frustration.

One of the hardest details in these scenarios is the kid not only wants to help, but repay their mom, or dad, in some way.

“After college, I played in Holland and I was in the hospital for three months with a ruptured pancreas,” Dixon said. “My dad dropped everything and came over and stayed with me the entire time I was in the hospital.”

How does one repay that?

You really don’t.

“You constantly question whether you are doing the right thing,” he said. “I told my wife, ‘You are not going to get it right every time. Nothing is final, and you can adjust.’”

Since this began for Dixon and his family years ago, many adjustments have been, and they will continue. There are no good answers.

And there’s another game coming up.