Being Thankful

Part of what makes people human is the range of emotions they experience. In some situations, our emotions are somewhat predictable. Elizabeth Kübler Ross identified the five stages of grief that can apply to any situation involving loss: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Other emotional stages have been identified and associated with recovery, pregnancy, change, and retirement; Freud, Jung, Darwin, and many others also weighed in on the development, meaning, and expression of emotions. 

Caregivers are not immune to emotions, though it is easy to try to suppress or ignore them. Even worse is feeling guilty for the emotions that are felt. 

In a previous post, I discussed anger. Those feelings were very real, and I know others that have experienced the same frustrations. At the same time, emotions can be layered.  While I may get angry, at the same time, I never forget all for which I am thankful. By balancing the anger with recognition of blessings, I can recognize sadness without plunging into hopeless despair. I've been in that pit before, and the negativity is like mental quicksand. Being thankful is easy when I accept the gifts I am given:

• I am thankful for my sister. She is on the other side of the country, but is on the phone when I need her. She listens and understands.  The best gift she gave me was the promise to not jump to conclusions when Mom tells her stories. Just as children try to manipulate parents, our mom manipulates us. 
• I am thankful for my friends that let me rant and growl without judging me. They have relatives, parents, or spouses that have been in their care and understand me even when I may not have the right words.
• I am thankful for friends on Facebook. While many may consider the website to be a folly, I can connect with so many people easily. Some provide humor, others provide motivation, and others appreciate my input.  I feel more connected to the world through Facebook because real people are behind the words. 
• I am thankful for my cat. He's good company, wakes up with me in the morning, and talks to me.
• I am thankful for my guardian angels. I am fortunate to have met them, seen them, and recognize they are there for me - always. (And they are pleased that I included them here.)
• I am thankful for my writing. I heard someone say that very few, if any, writers love writing.  Writing is hard. Instead it is the end result that writers love so much.  The work is the means to the self-satisfaction. I agree. 
• I am thankful for my mom. She can be a real pain in the ass at times, but she's my pain in the ass.  I miss the person she had grown to be. She and I had planned on enjoying special events and day trips together. She and I were communicating better than we ever did in my entire life. Her declining health has taken away so much of the progress we both had made. Much of my anger comes from the grief I have over losing that part of her. Still, I love her.

Most of all ....

• I am thankful for the journey of life. I have learned so much along the way, with much joy and much sadness, but when I pay attention, the lessons are incredible.

Angry Caregiver

As a caregiver, I do my best to find the lighter, funnier side of events. I don't want to be angry; anger is not good for the soul. Yet, bottling up the emotion isn't good either. As I sat in Mom's hospital room today, I was glad she is doing better.  However, I also found myself making a list in my head of things I am angry about.
She was alert and ready to go home though she is not medically ready to leave.  Of course, what the doctors say doesn't matter - she has her own opinion.  She wouldn't even be IN the hospital if someone had just given her a laxative.  The fact is, she doesn't even remember how sick she was.
So now, I get stuck restating why she can't have just anything she wants to eat; I tell her not to get up from the chair to move to the bed on her own; I remind her why she is in the hospital; I bear the brunt of her verbal abuse.
I love my mom, and she doesn't even realize that half of what she says to me is hurtful. She has a way of turning words into back-handed compliments. She is an expert in passive-aggressive phrasing. When I arrived, she had convinced herself that she probably would have gotten to go home today, but the doctor on call saw her instead of the admitting physician, and "He just didn't want to take responsibility for releasing me until the other doctor is back on duty."
If I don't respond, she prods until I do.  "Well,  that's right, isn't it?" I tried to keep it light and said, "No, I think there are a number of things to consider before letting you be discharged."  Her retort was basically, "You don't know- you weren't here."
So as I sat there, trying to avoid much discussion of anything, the list in my head continued to grow ...

• I am angry because I have so much to do for work - two jobs actually - and am here instead.
• I am angry because Mom will not listen - she's never listened.
• I am angry because Mom was practically a chain smoker, subjected me to second hand smoke when growing up, and I am certain my own breathing has been affected.
• I am angry because Mom now has COPD as a direct result of her smoking, but will still talk about how much she loved to smoke.
• I am angry because my grown children come to me when they need something, but depending on them for help is not an option for me. 
• I am angry because Mom will not ask for help from anyone else.
• I am angry because Mom doesn't recognize what I do do for her, but points out any thing I don't get done.
• I am angry because I go through this ordeal alone.

and ... most of all ...

• I am angry at myself for being angry.

The return

When I started this blog, I didn't tell my mother about it because I knew she'd think I was writing her life's story. I hoped that she'd not find it, and knew that there was nothing to be ashamed of if she did. Still, when she did discover it, I brushed it off nonchalantly while feeling like a teenager caught with porn under the mattress.
I took a hiatus, but feel drawn to writing about the issues surrounding the aging process, the fears and hopes I have, and the number of wonderful stories shared by various people I have worked with and friends I have known. So, I'm back - and Mom - if you read this, I love you!
Speaking of mom, I have mentioned before that I had high hopes for her retirement years, yet she has withstood so many setbacks. It seems that when she is just recuperating, she gets hit by another malady.
During the last quarter of 2009, she was able to get long overdue physical therapy to help her gain strength and balance for fall prevention. She diligently worked out three times a week with a therapist in the fitness room of her independent living center. Her sessions ended in January, but the benefit was remarkable. Mom felt the best she has felt in almost two years; her balance was better; she even has shoes that help her balance, are comfy, and attractive.
Then she was hit with a bout of bronchitis. A round with a Z-Pak helped, though the cough lingered. Mom complained about her breathing, but I never really made a connection. I attributed the problems to weather, overexertion, and other issues. Kudos to mom for taking the initiative to make an appointment with her lung specialist. Fortunately they had a cancellation and were able to see her quickly. During her visit, the doctor declared Mom had "extreme bronchitis" and took a chest x-ray. She was put on a stronger antibiotic and steroids. The next day, the doctor's office called and confirmed: mom has pneumonia.
I was kicking myself for not picking up on the symptoms sooner, but thanks to my sister for reassuring me that I did nothing wrong. Still, it's hard not to beat myself up for not being at mom's more. I think about things I could do to be more in tune. I envision writing everything down on a calendar so that I have a visual map of mom's complaints, medication changes, doctor's appointments, falls, dietary intake -perhaps even have her record her output and the dog's stats as well! While that is hardly realistic, I am plagued with "what ifs" and "should haves."
At the same time, I admire mom's perseverance. She feels like crap, but she keeps trying. She's a fighter; she has her own goals, things she wants to accomplish, and activities she enjoys. Today, my son and I went to mom's with pizza and the movie "G-Force." Mom wanted to see the flick when it was in the theatres, but we never could seem to find time to get there. I was determined she'd see it, so I rented it.
The movie and pizza were good - the time with mom was priceless.