Martyrdom

In caring for the people we love, caregivers will fall into self-destructive behaviors. We exhaust ourselves from stress, worry and overexertion, or we feel guilty for being angry, tired, and not doing a "better job." In between the excessive anxiety, we sandwich in work, children, grandchildren, maintaining our homes, or stress because we aren't able to coordinate all these things. We don't eat right, we don't sleep well, we don't go to the doctor when we should because we already spend time there with our loved ones. The guilt and pressure are unending, yet we drag them around like we are loaded jackasses.

I certainly do not claim to have the magic answers, but there are a few things that I try to remember, making the burden a bit lighter.

1) Take care of thyself FIRST. If the caregiver gets sick, the house of cards falls. Eat right to keep up your energy, nutrients, and avoid headaches! Rest or your body WILL wear out. Get medical attention when needed. An ounce of prevention is truly worth a pound of cure.

2) Breathe! When we stress, our breathing becomes shallow, our muscles tense up, we get headaches, and our thinking clouds. Five minutes on the deck, backyard, or in a favorite corner can be an oasis when the soul needs rest. Take a deep breath in through the nose, exhale slowly out the mouth.

3) While breathing, stretch a minute. Stand or sit up straight, lift your shoulders towards your ears, relax; lift again. Now, roll your shoulders in a circle, rotate forward a few times, then backward. Make a fist and then stretch out your fingers. Repeat several times. Look straight ahead and bring your chin to your chest - feel the stretch down your neck and spine. Bring your head up, tilt your right ear towards the right shoulder, then the left ear to the left shoulder. All movements should be slow and painless.

4) Take responsibility for your own feelings. This may be hard to believe, but it is true: No one "makes" you feel like you do. Reactions are learned and we can unlearn them. Do not allow your loved one to manipulate your own behavior. By taking a step back, and viewing a situation objectively, we are less likely to lose our tempers or become upset. When a child throws a tantrum, the parent can get angry, or be matter-of-fact. Generally, by the parent being in control, the child calms down. The same is true for those we care for. (I did NOT say treat them like children - the issue is about the caregiver's behavior!).

5) Don't be a martyr. There's a saying, "Get off the cross, someone else needs the wood." No one expects a caregiver to be a robot or to be perfect. Life is still happening and you have every right to be a part of it. Everything does not have to be done perfectly; if you are anal about how things are done, admit it, and get out of the way when others try to help! I have learned to close my eyes and be thankful that I have help. I have even said, "It's my problem, not yours, so I will leave you alone - call me if you need me."

6) Ask for help; share the load! If a friend says, "tell me what I can do," take him or her up on the offer. Can the friend stay for an hour while you pamper yourself with a bubble bath? Maybe she will do your laundry or cook a meal - even just having someone help fold towels one day makes the burden lighter. If they haven't offered to help in a while - ask anyway!

7) Even far away family members can help. My sister lives 700 miles away and said, "If I can ever do anything ..." I've held her to it, and she has come through! When mom was selling her home, I was overwhelmed with other issues like taking her to various medical appointments, tying up lose ends at the house, and filing my father's will with the local courthouse. My sister has worked for attorneys and real estate agents, so when questions arose about negotiating the best offer, I called Deborah and said, "Handle this!" She made the calls, gathered information, and clarified points that mom had misunderstood from the real estate agent. Together, the three of us were able to make sound decisions in selling mom's home, and the stress was off of me. My sister was pleased that I included her, and actually needed her. Deborah also makes an extra effort to call mom regularly, and, thankfully, backs me up when mom complains about my being bossy!

8) Don't lose yourself in the process. We get so overwhelmed at times that we become machines. We will never have regrets if we don't vacuum the floor or leave a few dishes in the sink. We will regret the times we didn't sit and have a good laugh with our loved ones, or didn't take time to share stories, read, or see a good movie together.

9) AARP has great resources for caregivers. Spend some time at their website.

10) Take time for you! It is possible if you follow a few of the steps above. By taking time for you, you will feel better and can be a better caretaker for yourself and the one you love.

Snow Storm Elicits Flurry of Thoughts

Mom called this afternoon to be sure I arrived home safely from work. Snow had begun to blanket the east coast and roads in our hometown were being closed. She then began to relay her upheavals because of the weather.

In her retirement community, there is a community dining room that offers lunch and dinner. Normally she drives the short distance there, either in her car or on a golf cart. Just recently, the facility started offering shuttle service for the cottage residents. In order to send the staff home before getting snowed in, the dining room served a buffet today and everyone was asked to come during the lunch service time. Mom took the shuttle over to the main building and a friend wondered why Mom didn't drive. Mom said, "If I drove and had an accident in this weather, my family would kill me!" The friend said, "Oh, I'm sure if you had an accident, your family would just be happy that you were alright. They wouldn't be concerned about a wreck in this weather." Mom replied, "You don't know my family!" Mom knows us too well.

As our conversation continued, Mom began to lament some of the items lost in downsizing to her smaller home. "You know, I don't have any candles or matches," she complained. I reminded her that I bought her flameless candles - she is on oxygen and is not supposed to have an open flame nearby. "But if the power goes out in this storm, I will need candles and matches!" I decided to give into the argument, rather than have an aneurysm over a non-issue. "I am sure that if such an emergency occurred, you could call security and one of those guys would bring you a match." Mom replied: "Oh, that's okay, I already got some matches." One of her neighbors apparently produced the incendiary devices. Now, I wonder, what would she burn?

She also was concerned about the lack of heat if there were a widespread power outage.

"MOM - that's why you are living on the retirement campus!" I said. "If the power goes out, they will make sure you are taken care of. You will not go without heat, food, or light!"

I am not sure of the exact procedure, but I assured her they would, at the very least, take her to the main building. She agreed, and then worried about her cockatiel. "I can take Missy (the dog) with me to the other building, but I can't take Mickey." Her rendition of the storm began to resemble scenes from "The Day after Tomorrow." I suggested she cover the cage to keep the damn bird warm and he'd be fine for 24 hours alone. We live in the south - snow doesn't survive well here. Al Gore has not declared a national emergency, and while I am concerned about global warming, I don't think we've reached the Apocalypse - yet.

She then began discussing Missy's reaction to the snow, and how, when the dog squatted to pee, she bounced back up because the snow was freezing her butt.

As if there wasn't enough for mom to be concerned with on a normal day, the snow has brought it's own blizzard of mental diversions. I, in the meantime, should step out on the back deck and "chill."

Behavior Modification

Raising children is exhausting because a parent constantly monitors kids' behaviors in an effort to keep them safe and healthy. One can never be completely braced for the transition that occurs when she turns monitoring away from her children, towards an aging parent. The similarities are remarkable, yet there is still the revere that is held towards elders.

When my own children were growing up, I remember learning that, when given choices, kids feel more autonomous. Instead of issuing a direct order, "Eat your vegetables," offer alternatives, "Would you rather eat all of the carrots, or eat half the carrots and half the peas?" I tried, but it got tiresome. Eventually, I resorted to telling the kids, "Okay, you have a choice: Clean your room OR I'll beat your ass ,and you still have to clean your room." My children grew to understand, if not appreciate, my warped sense of humor.

Years later, my mother was having her own battles with her father. He was always a strong-willed man with a commanding presence, and mom never broke loose from his control. Even as a woman over the age of 70, she constantly sought approval from him, and was hurt by his lack of appreciation for her extraordinary efforts. Yet, she never gave up.

After he fell and broke a hip, he moved into my parents' home. He recouperated well for a 96-year-old man, and was able to walk and climb stairs. A year later, he fell out of bed in the middle of the night, and injured his other hip. Mom called for an ambulance; the technicians were able to get my grandfather back in bed, but he refused to go to the hospital. The next day, mom called me at work. She was concerned because he had a huge bruise on his lower back, he couldn't move without pain, and he certainly couldn't get out of bed. I said, "Well, he might not like it, but call the ambulance anyway!" Mom was fearful that her father would be mad at her. She was just as scared as he was stubborn.

I left work, drove to mom's, and went straight up to see my grandfather. "Hey there," I said. "I hear you have fallen and you can't get up!" He laughed, "Yeah, well, I'll be alright." I sat on the bed next to him and held his hand. "Papa, that's the problem - we don't think you'll be alright if you stay here." I began to outline the impending doom. "If you lay in this bed, you will not get better. Your joints will stiffen up. You have a terrible bruise, the size of a dinner plate, that could cause a clot to go to your lungs or heart. When you don't move, your lungs do not work as well. They will fill up with fluid; it will get infected; you will then have pneumonia, and at your age you WILL die." My grandfather cut his eyes at me, but managed a skeptical smile. I explained that we could not take him to the doctor to be checked because he could not walk down the stairs, and we certainly couldn't carry him. Even if we did manage to get him to the car, he couldn't sit. The only option was to call an ambulance. "Papa, laying here and dying is not an option," I said. "Mom doesn't want you to be mad at her, so I have come to negotiate." He laughed. I went in for the bottom line offer: "We are going to call an ambulance. Period. You can like it, or not, but it would be nice if you'd cooperate and agree to us calling them."

"Well," he said, "If you put it like that ... yeah, I guess you may as well call them."

I felt like I had been through NATO negotiations.

When the ambulance arrived, they had to call for back-up from the local fire department. The stretcher couldn't be negotiated around the steps and carrying my grandfather with a bedsheet was going to take extra hands. My personal thrill came when four muscle-bound men walked through the front door - Greensboro's finest I fondly dubbed Mr. January, Mr. February, Mr. March, and Mr. April ... but I digress. My point is, to reduce the chances of impending insanity, I look for a silver lining whenever possible. Mom, dad, and I stood in the foyer while these young bucks strode up the stairs. I didn't hesitate. "Wow, Mom," I said, "Who knew that when we got up this morning, we'd have this great eye candy to consume today!" The men blushed, and mom laughed. She earned it.

My grandfather passed away almost two years ago, and now I find myself in similar situations with mom. No longer am I the mediator; instead, I am in the authority of reason. Mom thinks I am a dictator. More on our adventures later ...

(Photo: My grandfather holding my granddaughter - his great-great-granddaughter, September 2007. He was 98; she was a few weeks old)

Caregiving Blog Party

Starting a new blog is daunting because one never knows how it will be received. I was amazed when I received an email from Denise at http://www.caregiving.com/. The website is promoting a Caregiving Blog Party, and 10 bloggers, including myself, have joined the soiree. Although I haven't had time to go through all the links and information, I wanted to share so others could join in and perhaps find useful resources.
At least we won't need a designated driver for this party!!

Holiday Illumination

Holidays can be stressful enough, but add caregiver woes to the mix and the result is heavier than any fruitcake I've ever used as a doorstop!

Last Christmas was mom's first in her new down-sized abode. She wanted to deck the halls, but between the smallness of her home and giving up a lot of decorations in the move, we had to negotiate the trimmings. For years, she and dad had put a 4-foot tree on a small table in their living room. The arrangement gave them the height of a larger tree, without taking up the floor space. With space now at an even higher premium, I suggested a small 2-foot tabletop tree with filament lighting. Mom seemed quite happy with the new tree. Once it was joined by a couple of poinsettias, a wreath, and a few other holiday touches, her home was comfortably festive.


She had just a few things in a storage building, including the 4-foot tree, which she wasn't ready to give up. I offered to store them in my own building, freeing her of that monthly fee, and all seemed well - until last week.


Mom called me, saying she wanted to visit a local home and garden store to buy a new tree for the front porch. Some of the other neighbors put large trees on their porches last year, where they could enjoy the lights from indoors, without taking up indoor space. The following conversation ensued:



Me: Well, Mom, before you go buy a tree, remember I have your old tree stored here.


Mom: That's right! But that one goes inside.


Me: But you don't have room inside.


Mom: Yes I do.


Me: We worked this out last year - remember? That's why we got the little tree.


Mom: Well, the one from the house isn't very big. We used to put it on a tabletop.


Me: Yes, but your ceilings are lower in the cottage, and the tree I have stored takes up more area.


Mom: It doesn't take up that much room. Why did I give it to you to store if I'm not going to use it?

Me: (wishing I knew the answer to that question because I wondered the same thing) Okay, then ... where would you put it?

Mom: Where Mickey's (the bird) cage is.


Me: And where will Mickey go?


Mom: In my bedroom, where the computer is.


Me: And where will the computer go?
Mom: I can put it on the floor.


Me: MOM - you barely have room to get around as it is now! You don't need to be tripping over things in the floor. There's no reason to go thru all this when you have an adorable little tree you got last year. Why do you want to go to all that trouble of moving things around?


Mom: I'm not asking you to do any of this.


Me: Well, you can't do it! You don't need to move Mickey's cage around, or the computer! Who else is going to do it? I don't MIND doing it, but I'm saying, you have enough issues with finding room for things without adding to the chaos.

At this point, she stopped arguing, only because she had already made her decision. A few days later, my son took mom to the home and garden store. Mom proudly announced to me that she bought a new tree for the front porch. She has been tinkering with putting it up herself, and I haven't fussed. It keeps her busy - like a two-year-old playing in the Tupperware cabinet. She's happy, it's not hurting anything, so I let her be.


Mom is a dear, sweet, intelligent woman, and I try to realize that she has limited control in her life. Her ailments control her, preventing the freedoms she used to enjoy. She took excellent care of my grandfather and father during their years of ailing health. She mourned my grandfather's passing, wondering if she could have done more (even Hospice was amazed by the high quality care my mother gave him!). Instead of being able to reclaim some time for herself, she was immediately hit with a series of illnesses. Too often, caregivers neglect their own health, wear themselves down, and fall ill.


As she and I continue our journey together, I will just have to remind myself that the battles aren't over Christmas trees, but instead, are her efforts at independence and survival.

An Introduction

I have begun this blog because I’ve been thrust into the role of caretaker for my aging mother, a part that I never dreamed I’d have to play. Mom was always so independent; she took care of everyone else -- except herself.

She smoked too much and even tried to hide her addiction when dad had to quit due to his own heart and lung problems. When she finally did quit, it was too late. Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD) was settling into her body and now has her panting for air when she exerts herself the least bit. She’s on oxygen, with which she maintains a love-hate relationship. A stroke near her brain stem has affected her balance. The doctor says she is fortunate because 30 percent of people die from similar strokes; the remainder are left incapacitated. At least she is still mobile. Another odd disease causes her bone marrow to produce too many red blood cells.

Unrelated to the COPD, her body believes she is not getting enough oxygen, so it creates an excess of red blood cells, leaving her circulation sluggish, which in turn, perpetuates the lack of O2. Compound the issue with the COPD and the problem worsens. In addition, the thickened blood puts her at a higher risk of a different kind of stroke.

This frail, sick woman has just enough spunk remaining, that she has quickly turned into her father – a man she swore not to emulate due to the troubles he caused when under her care. Recalling the incident of my 92-year-old grandfather cutting a tree with a chainsaw makes me thankful that I have my mother’s chainsaw locked away in my storage building. I have no doubt she would try to do the same, given the opportunity.

A few weeks before my father died, my parents moved into an independent living community. They downsized from a four-bedroom, two-story house to the cottage which has one bedroom, a living room, tiny kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom. The move was completed in October 2008, but mom still complains about things she didn’t bring, things that she believes were done without her knowledge, and things that she thinks she should have.

While many of my experiences are common place, I hope this blog will help some people know they are not alone. Perhaps others will find a bit of humor to brighten their day. Along the way, I’ll impart resources and information I gathered as a former senior center director. I planned programs for active senior citizens in a local community and part of my job was to maintain a database and offer programs to help caregivers and those they care about. At that time, I provided mom information to help in dealing with her father, not realizing I would soon be in the exact same position. Rule #1: Never say “never.”