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Trying to Understand

  • Posted on February 19, 2010 at 11:15 am
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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.

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Lacking Patience

  • Posted on February 4, 2010 at 12:15 pm
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I think one of the main problems is the wearing down of one’s own patience, for normal things. It sounds wrong to say, but really, I find myself being impatient, at least in my own mind. I try to keep it level, to not show my impatience, but it seems to just get harder with each passing day.

It is strange, because I notice how I am slowing down myself, yet I feel so wronged, so hard done by, when Mom needs to go to the bathroom, or just wants to lay down for a few hours. I keep wishing she’d move faster, or not just sit and stare at me, until I ask what she wants. It grates on my nerves, which it shouldn’t.

Hell, she is 92 and naturally not going to move as fast, and with the arthritis in her hands, can’t really do a lot of things I take for granted, like holding my coffee cup or a fork to eat with. Yet it bugs me, it irritates me, when in the past it wasn’t even a flicker of a thought. Now it seems to consume me, and I wonder, what is going on in my head.

I shouldn’t be feeling this way, this frustrated by it all, and yet I do.

Little things gnaw at me, make me even more irritable than ever. I control it, in front of Mom, but I find I am taking it out on David, on my dog, and myself too. I hate it, and yet it seems to be what it is, these days. I suppose it could be worse, which is maybe what is eating at me.

Am I somehow, looking ahead to when her condition becomes worse, when I am religated to doing more than I am now? Is the concerns of others, who keep pushing for sending her to a home, for a few weeks, merely a prelude to the pressure I’ll be under, when her abilities to function become worse?

There is so much to do in life, that I wonder at times, if I can manage any more. I know, deep down, that I can, but I spend so much time worrying about the ‘what if’s’ that it becomes part of the daily routine, and it shouldn’t. Yet, I don’t know how to turn off the brain, to ignore the worries, the stress. Little things get blown out of proportion, including the dog’s barking, David’s lack of picking up after himself, or cleaning up after himself. Yet before, it didn’t seem to matter much, didn’t seem to grate so harshly on the nerves.

Is this really what the future holds?

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The Looks, The Stares

  • Posted on January 30, 2010 at 11:30 pm
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Every day, every night, it happens.

I don’t know why, but it is almost as if her mind has wandered off somewhere, deep inside. It is hard to see, to cope with. I know, it is old age, and perhaps even signs of her mind slowly going. Could even be a sign of previous strokes, or ‘mini infarctions’ as the Paramedic said awhile back.

No one has talked to me about it, which is rather odd. I mean why do Doctors speak in such guarded tones? Do they expect me to fall to my knees, sobbing?  Or is it their goal to try and enforce the perception that they are GODS?  I know, I am sounding bitter, but really, it just makes it harder for me to cope with, the not knowing.

I haven’t a clue how to manage it, and perhaps a good discussion with the Doctor would help, but they are so distant, so apart from those in their care. It is frustrating as hell, and really, who can one talk to? David is too young, too much of a runner than a coper, so who is left?

I know I should ask the Doctor, or the Nurse, but how?

How do you broach the subject, when every part of you wants to ignore it, to not know, but you need to know. Knowledge is key, isn’t it? Still, how do you begin that kind of conversation?

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The Bucket List

  • Posted on December 11, 2009 at 9:53 am
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We watched the movie called The Bucket List with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. I am glad I watched it, and also wish I never had. It has me wondering about a lot of things, none of which is exactly restful. I mean it is about two guys who are diagnosed with terminal cancer, given only six months or so to live.

That alone, is unnerving, for me.

Worse is the choices, the question, of what would one do, if they are told that? Now, I know, a lot of people get that news, some will stay in hospital and fight for a few extra days, while others will simply bury their head in the sand, and go about their life as if nothing was wrong. Others, not many, will go and try to live their lives, to the fullest, but what is the right answer?

What would I do, if suddenly I knew my time on earth was limited?

It’s an interesting question, given how it also makes me wonder, about Mom, and her situation. I mean she knows her time is numbered, and yet she sits, day in, day out, reading, and watching the odd show. How does that make her accept the inevitable any easier?

Then too, it reminds of an age old question, asked of a wise Rabbi. Seems he posed that very same question, as in the movie, and the students complained that as they didn’t know they would die tomorrow, how could they plan for it. His answer was to say, exactly so, therefore live each day, as if it was your last.

But how can you do that? Seriously, just how can you live today, as if it was your last day, and if you do, what would you do differently?

Nice sentiment, but today’s world is not so cut and dried, now is it? However, I think he meant his answer in a more spiritual sense, which now has me thinking on that too. See, I hate those kind of movies, that make me think, yet I know I won’t be able to put this to rest. It will lurk in the back of my mind, as I watch mother, wondering if somehow I am stopping her from doing something, or if I too, am just marking time, till the inevitable arrives.

Do I show more affection, do I say the phrases of ‘I love you’ more often now, or do I simply go on, as before. Such a simple question, and yet not so easy to answer, with any honesty.

This whole part of my life, seems to be in limbo. It has its ups and downs, mostly downs, and the stress is taking its toll, or is it? Am I perhaps using some form of self defence mechanism, trying to detach myself, in order to better cope? I wish I knew the answers, but I do know, I am tired more, worn out more, and I shouldn’t be.

It really isn’t hard to do laundry every day, and yet I seem to think it is.

It really isn’t hard to wait for her to decide to go lay down, yet I seem annoyed by the interruption, not like I am actually accomplishing anything before hand. That bugs me, because really, there is enough time to do what I should do, and yet, I seem frozen, unable to make a move. Like updating my blogs.

Hell, I call myself a writer, so why can’t I do that? Why do I let myself become so frozen or mired up in the stress. It is all manageable, and what really is getting at me, is that we need the money, but I am not doing what I need to do, to make that money. I know I should be writing, should be updating, creating, yet I would rather procrastinate. Worse, I am using Mom as the reason, and truth is, she isn’t the cause.

Laundry, getting her juice, making dinner, are nothing but excuses, for not doing what needs doing, yet even knowing that, doesn’t seem to make me do more, or shake off those feelings. It is like some strange hand, pushing me away, when I know, it is my own laziness, or inertia.

I don’t get what is happening, because I don’t think I am stupid, nor do I think I am all that lazy. I get up at 6:30am every morning, and yet come midnight, I feel like I did nothing but mark time. Surely I should be doing more, and that time I am up, should be more than enough time to look after mom, and do my work.

This is all so confusing, yet the movie has made me even more antsy, more nervous. Am I losing it, or am I just finding another excuse, to be lazy?

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Now I Don’t Talk Enough

  • Posted on December 2, 2009 at 3:16 pm
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over-cliffEver had those days, when nothing you do seems to please, or is enough?

I think this is one of them, in a growing long line of them, which makes me question, if I can survive this? I wonder too, how it impacts David, and yet I can’t dwell on that, or on how I feel so exhausted, an hour or less, after waking up. It is almost like a conspiracy, to deny a moment’s peace, and yet, I still believe, that it is the right thing.

Like today’s worker, Yvette. Nice lady, competent too, or so I thought, but frankly the last couple of visits, leaves me wondering. And it has an impact on Mom too. I mean how can you put depends on a person, and leave them at half mast?  Then you spend extra time, discussing how shoddy things are in the world, I mean it is becoming very confusing.

I think too, the lack of communication with others, is taking its toll. Not just on me, but on Mom. Now she says I don’t talk enough, yet each time I ask her if she is okay, if she wants something, or get up and get myself a drink, she doesn’t even look up from her book, at times. Yet I am not talking enough.

There is no book on this stuff, least not one that isn’t clinical, and speaks from the heart. I mean, this isn’t easy when you have a deep emotional connection, with the other. And let’s face it, she is dying. I hate to think that, but it is reality, simply because of her age. I mean she doesn’t have 20 or 30 years ahead of her. That is reality, but where is it written on how to cope with it?

Yes, it makes me angry, scared too, but there is no one to discuss it with, to talk it over with, who isn’t going to respond with the age old reply: “well the older they get…” which infuriates me. I know things break down, but all a guy wants, is someone to understand, not pass judgement, not render sage words of wisdom from on high. I can read the bible for that, but yet, I don’t know.

This is not easy, that is about the only constant I can see here, that it isn’t easy, nor will it get easier, or better. Things will get worse, and that scares me.

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Never Ending Cycle

  • Posted on November 29, 2009 at 8:41 am
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Not one of my better mornings, but then, no morning is a good one, or so it seems on days like today. I don’t know, if it is me, mom, david, or what, but the fight to just survive seems to always be an uphill struggle. It’s hard to be motivated, to stay calm or to even think at times.

It isn’t easy being the main care giver.

I didnt think it would be, but I never, in my darkest moments, thought it would be this tough, this emotionally draining. And yet, it is, and this is just the beginning of what will be. Only a small sample of the future, and I don’t know if I can handle it.

Self doubt is a killer, and I am filled with it, and it’s not Mom’s fault, nor is it David’s either. It rests squarely on my own shoulders, and I wonder, if I have enough strength to change, to adapt, to make it work. My work suffers, my life is empty, and yet, somehow I turn off the alarm clock, and make it upstairs, to begin what seems a hopeless effort.

Is it simply going through the motions? I wonder, and worse, I wonder if I can maintain even that. The pressures are immense, or so they seem, and I question even that. A lot of questions, and very little answers.

The cycle just never ends, does it?

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