July 8, 2020

Which one(s) are you?

“There are only four kinds of people in the world. Those who have been caregivers. Those who are currently caregivers. Those who will be caregivers, and those who will need a caregiver.” ― Rosalyn Carter

I’ve never been very good at caregiving. I find it draining and limiting and yet it’s an inevitable part of life, as Rosalyn Carter so clearly expressed.

My earliest brush with “caregiving” was many years ago when I became acquainted with a visually impaired man at church.  He was fascinated with my work as a journalist and wanted me to escort him around on Sunday mornings so we could talk.

I was okay with it for a while, but I had other friends I wanted to be with, too. I wasn’t really a caregiver, but more of a helper in this situation. And even that was hard for me.

Uncle Melrose

And then there was Uncle Melrose, who had an intellectual disability and lived in a state institution, then a group home and finally a nursing facility.

It wouldn’t be accurate to call myself a caregiver here, either. It was more like I looked after him.

I made sure he was taken care of, that he had some companionship and was his advocate when he needed medical attention.  The staff at his various residences did all the hard stuff.

Mom

And then there was Mom. She lived to be 95 and the last eight years of her life were tough, especially for her. She was in the hospital so many times I lost count. She had four hip replacements and multiple other surgeries.

The last two years she was in a nursing home. I hated that she had to live there, but there were no other options. Fortunately, she was close by so I could visit her several times a week.

Again, I wasn’t her first-line caregiver, but I was very much involved in her everyday life – making sure she got the attention she needed and being her companion.

My turn is coming

Now I have to face the fact that my husband and I are “seniors” (I hate that word) and that sooner or later I likely will be a real caregiver – one who has the day-to-day responsibility of taking care of my spouse. And/or, my spouse could be taking care of me.

I’d rather not think about it and be an ostrich, sticking my head in the sand and pretending that life will never come to that place.

Yesterday, I did some journaling about this reality and that helped some. I expect I’ve got a lot more to write on the subject in my trusty journal, which has become my friend, companion and sounding board.

“It is not the load that breaks you down. It’s the way you carry it.”
— Lena Horne, singer

 

Writing spark

Which one are you? A former or current caregiver? Someone who be a caregiver or will need one in the future? Set a timer for ten minutes and write about your experiences in the role of caregiver. How does this aspect of life affect you?   

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