Day to day to day

Anton Chekhov said, "Any idiot can face a crisis; it is this day-to-day living that wears you out." This says a lot about caregiving. Personally, I have loved those that I cared for so much, the wear comes more in the form of weariness from feeling helpless, and the devastation of witnessing the transformation of a vibrant loved one to a vulnerable loved one. When I am unable to relieve someone's pain or help their life circumstance, it leaves a scar on my own heart, an ache in the background. In my own experience, the three people I cared for were each so heroic in their own circumstances, that it made (makes) my day to day a series of lessons. The gratitude I receive in return is more than compensation and soothes that scar. Time spent together is precious. I have experienced the circular nature of life and relationships, the give and take, stretch and ease. Caregiving is a gift to us. It may wear us out but it won't wear us down, it will make our hearts larger in the end.

Family

"If everyone would just take care of their own family the world would be a better place." I've heard my mother say this many times. It sounds so simple yet it's so profound. Many people spend their wall to wall scheduled days working, volunteering, trying to give back to their community, stressed out and exhausted from all the stuff they have to do. There is little time and energy left over for family-the people we love that need us most. In fact, our families often get the leftovers...the tired, grumpy bits of us that collapse on the couch at the end of the day. Just when you've given all you have to give, your family stands there wanting more.
Here's an experiment. Decide for one week that the members of your family are honored guests at your house. Don't tell them you have decided this, just act this way and see what happens. Dole out kisses hello and good-bye. Greet members of your family like the family dog greets you, with unconditional excitement at their presence. Say the words, "I understand" when they have a hard day. Listen. Give a heartfelt compliment instead of just thinking it. If mom's theory proves true, the world will be a better place. (And you might discover a few surprises yourself).

I wish I may, I wish I might

Woke up wide awake at 2:30 a.m. again with thoughts running wildly through my head. I did what I always do when I lie awake in bed at night. I prayed. Whatever you call it: wishing, meditating, praying- it's where we go internally to give thanks, face our fears, ask for courage and strength, or send our questions up to the universe-especially those questions we don't know the answers to. Why do good people suffer? What is the meaning of our life? My mother's room is her nest, padded with mass cards and small prayer booklets. She is a devout Catholic and it has served her well. Her faith shines through her daily actions and guides her life. She says she's not afraid to die, so why am I afraid to watch her die? "Say a Novena for me, Mom." I've heard my siblings say this sentence many times over the years. Ever since we were little kids we knew the Novena was the 'big' prayer, the one that meant business and got results. Mom's Novenas were our emotional booster shots. There's comfort in prayer, the kind of comfort that reaches through the blackness and takes you by the shoulders, reminds you that your words drift upward and twine together with all the other prayers in the universe to form a sort of net that catches us. So here I am once more and here's to all of you out there wishing and praying for peace.

Outer Banks

I'm in the OBX right now for a weekend getaway with my husband. I've been advised to 'take a break-relax a little.' I visited with a dear friend, Nancy, yesterday. It was her birthday and we took a walk in the winter sunshine, then had lunch out at a landmark diner on the beach road. She's someone I can pour my heart out to and she never hesitates to give me the same treatment. Honesty with compassion, so refreshing. Last night was dinner out with my husband and another couple, followed by a fire in the condo and a cuddle on the couch. Yet even with all this, there's the invisible umbilical cord connecting me to that bedroom upstairs in my house in Richmond where my mother spends her days and nights. A nurse is looking in on her this weekend for the first time. It's all new to us-- the need for her to require help--and so shocking to me, since she was always the first one to help someone else. That's why, when she called to tell me the nurse has had a somewhat difficult life, and that she kissed my mother on the cheek when she left, I wasn't surprised. She has already bonded with this stranger and become her friend and mentor. In fact, I smiled to myself knowing full well that we are paying this nurse and she's receiving the gift of time spent with Jule, and will come away a better person for it. Truth is, it's great to get away, but I can't wait to get back home.

Insomniac

It's 12:41 a.m. and I've been tossing and turning...not sleeping is the hallmark of a caregiver. I know many non-sleepers who share this trait:all day they function quite well (With the exception of those very first "gotta get up NOW?" moments) but at night, when it's dark and quiet, troubling thoughts come marching through like a parade complete with trombones and trumpets. I've tried just about every remedy including ear plugs in a quiet house, and sitting right in front of me on my desk is my empty cereal bowl (maybe the milk will help). I have relaxation tapes, I read in bed, and make my husband rub my back (Sound familiar sibs?). It's all to no avail. The upside of this is that I have a deep appreciation for a good night's sleep. I treasure it like an unexpected gift and even now, I'm thinking, maybe tomorrow I'll get one :)
When my children were babies, I sang to them...the song from Mary Poppins: "Stay awake, don't rest your head. Don't lie down upon your bed. As the moon drifts in the sky. Stay awake, don't close your eyes. Though the world is fast asleep. Though your pillow's soft and deep. Your're not sleepy as you seem. Stay awake, don't nod and dream..." They loved that song. I never knew I'd be living the lyrics. Good night all. Sleep tight.

My Funny Caregiving Story

My dad had dementia and lived in an assisted living facility. One night, the phone rang. Dad was being taken to the hospital. I rushed to Morningside to be there when the ambulance arrived so he wouldn't be afraid. He lit up, as he always did, when he saw me. Everyone loved my dad. He was gregarious and sentimental, always friendly. As the crew carried him out on a stretcher, the nurses and aides crowded around him wishing him well. "I love you Mr. Healey," one nurse called to him, as they carried him down the hall. "I love you too!" yelled dad in his musical voice, then he lowered his head, looked at me and asked, "Who was that?"

A Little Humor Never Hurt Anyone...

Okay, several friends have written me on email commenting on my blog but no one writes on the blog site under comments, and what I've heard from people is....whew, this is depressing...you could use a little humor...so here is the challenge...

For those of you who know how to post a comment I'd like to hear your best funny caregiving story EVER...I will sleep on it and post mine soon...ah, the suspense! Please, someone WRITE:)
(and, on a personal note, to my friend, "Retoite" you better write soon).