Going the distance...
Those of us who are caregivers for the long haul know full well we’ve had to adapt to new norms in our mission to provide unwavering support for safeguarding a loved one’s health. Everything else becomes secondary. Unless you’ve walked the walk as a caregiver, you don’t know jack shit about the physical and emotional toll it takes.
With all due respect to every caregiver who’s had to adjust, I’m sharing my adaptations, which may or may not be part of the common denominator for all of us.
I live life in the fast lane—early to rise at 5:00 AM, unless awakened much earlier to make an ER run to the hospital. Otherwise, I lay claim to the early morn to exercise in order to maintain my own strength and stamina. If not pressed for time, I’ll eat a hearty breakfast of oatmeal with fresh blueberries before heading out the door. If allotted, I’m fastidious about getting housework done within an hour or two. Since I never know what will be thrown my way from one minute to the next, a sense of order grounds me when I return home to crash.
I live on the edge, experiencing anxiety each time my phone rings at any hour of the day. This past week, I made two ER runs: one during mid-morning; the other quite late at night which held over until 4:30 AM. Gotta admit, red lights hold no authority over me when there’s not a soul around. Neither do speed limits. I went without sleep for 24 hours and tried to catch an hour’s worth of winks. However, by then, you’re wired on adrenalin and sleep eludes.
My vehicle is routinely maintained and the gas tank is full by the end of the day. For every urgent call, I make sure I throw a package of crackers and bottled water in my bag. A caregiver can go for hours without eating when biding time in an emergency room. Bedside, I am the patient’s best advocate, explaining symptoms and updating chronological information to the doctors and nurses.
As I’m often well-spent at the end of any ordeal, I require quick-fix meals, opting for Healthy-Choice, or I’ll stock up on ready-made sandwiches from the supermarket. There’s no energy or interest to do more.
Although I’ve made many adaptations to accommodate this calling, it’s appalling to see the adaptations a loved one has made in response to a fall precipitated by a serious underlying cause. Time may be a healer, but the elderly do not have the luxury of frittering away days on end waiting for medical intervention. And, so, I’ll step up my role as facilitator.
The definition of caregiver doesn’t begin to scratch the surface—a person who cares for someone who is sick or disabled. Essentially, it’s a responsibility of wide latitude beset with stress, fatigue, anxiety, anger, and frustration in trying to prolong someone’s life while sacrificing your own.
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My caregivers have stayed with me for a very long time. Over time, as my condition worsens, I have watched the stress it places on them, especially since they find anything new adds to the amount of time they have to take with me.
For my primary caregiver, it has become as you write. I hope the two of us come up with a solution soon so that she will not have to carry the entire burden. At this point, it is more emotional than physical. It will get much worse.
Ron
However, since I'm not a professional caregiver I would not be the caregiver of a total stranger or just some friends whom I've just met. Some older folks would take advantage of new friends. They just say they love them, or they are madly in love with them just so they can have someone to care for them. That has been the latest trend recently. The older folks would lie to the young Asian women, say they are in love with them just for this purpose.
Sandie