This whole caregiving job has no guidelines, no books that explain what you will go through, or how to adapt to the changes, to the frustrations. There is no magic course to take, that will teach you how to be a loving, compassionate, caregiver.
Either it is in you, or it isn’t.
You can talk and discuss all about how to lift a person, how to wash them and even how to speak to them, but there is no way you can teach compassion, caring. Even as a family member, a son, I find it hard to not get angry, to not feel put upon, at the simplest of requests. And it impacts my own self confidence, self evaluation.
Am I a bad son, for being impatient with the routine?
Like when I take her to go lay down in the afternoon, and she stands there, with that blank look, it makes me cringe.
Or walking behind her, and the odor from her makes me feel, well, sick to my stomach. I know she can’t help it, but has she lost that much control over her bodily functions, that she can’t even control her flatulence?
Like why does it happen, just as I am bending down to pull up the depends? Is it deliberate, or co-incidence?
It is those thoughts, that make me question myself, that make me wonder, what am I doing wrong? Are those feelings natural, is the impatience of following behind, as she shuffles, unless she’s gotta go the bathroom, when it is almost like running a short distance sprint, normal?
You sit awake at night, wondering if somehow, you are deliberately making yourself angry, so that when the ‘eventuality of death’ does arrive, you will have closed your emotions off? Is it a defence mechanism, to try and mitigate the upcoming emotional upheaval, or is it selfishness?
It is the frustration, daily or hourly at times, when she drinks, and gulps the juice, making herself choke. Thoughts that she does it on purpose, to get attention race through the head, while worry gnaws at me, wondering what to do, if she doesn’t catch her breath.
In short, it is a vicious cycle, that draws energy, strength from a guy, and really, it is no wonder that by the end of the day, I am feeling short tempered, irritable, & just downright snarky. It is a long day, from 6am till midnight, and no wonder the blood pressure is up and down like a yo yo.
It does make me question myself, and when David says things will be different, I am pissed at him, because I know he is meaning ‘when she is dead’ and I don’t want that. Or do I? Is that why I am so stressed, so nervous? Am I that bad, for even thinking it could be that?
Bottom line is this, the job of caring for an older parent is a lonely task, that tests your true mettle. It isn’t filled with accolades, or even compassion from those you expect to provide that for you, it is a job that beats you up, wears you down.
This is my life, it sucks, but it is the only one I got.