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.

Laughter: The Best Medicine

I am fortunate that most of the doctors that deal with Mom have a good sense of humor. Mom was taken to the hospital for what turned out to be a bowel obstruction. While waiting for the hospital to admit her, the nurses suggested I take a break for lunch. In the meantime, they would put an NG tube (through the nose, down the throat, into the stomach) in Mom in order to try to remove contents and gas. When I returned, the admitting physician came into the room and was asking about Mom's NG tubing, which was laying across her bed, not in her nose.  Mom, who had been given morphine, was a bit testy and admitted to taking out the tubing.
When we told her it was supposed to stay in, she retorted, "Well the nurse left me here, and I was hurting. I'm 80 years old, and I figured I didn't have to put up with hurting, so I didn't!  I took it out!" She's proud that she just had a birthday.
The doctor laughed heartily while I scolded Mom.
Give a woman a birthday and some good drugs, and she will go wild.