How To Enjoy Care-Giving

HOW TO ENJOY CAREGIVING (Source: April 22, 2008 by Carol D O'Dell , Author of Mothering Mother, A Daughter's Humorous & Heartbreaking Memoirs..) Care-giving and Enjoyment are not two words that are always linked together, and I personally know how very challenging, frustrating and exhausting care-giving can be since I was my mother's full-time care person (aka daughter) for the last three years of her life. But there are many great aspects to caregiving. Did you know that research has proven that there's a high satisfaction rate among caregivers in regard work and purpose? They might be talking about those who do this professionally, but this still applies to the average family caregiver. I can feel your snarls, glares, and tisks, but it's true, you can enjoy care-giving. Why? Because it matters. Humans need their work to make a difference. Most people need to feel needed. They need to feel that their time and efforts, no matter how hard, accomplished something. Now, I know that cutting pills, making trays of food, changing soiled sheets and clothes is anything but a glamorous lifestyle, and I know that caring for someone with Alzheimer's can feel like an endless jaunt on a hamster's wheel, and that your days seem monotonous and heart wrenching. But your time is not wasted. Not for you, not for your loved one. I recently listened to The New Earth by Eckhart Tolle. This is Oprah's book club pick and she's also doing a huge teleseminar on it. Why is she investing so much into an author/speaking/spiritual teacher? I was skeptical. I'm a self-help book junkie, and honestly, they all say the same thing–different spins, but as I began to listen to The Power of Now, and The New Earth, both by Tolle, something in me clicked. He quotes Buddha, Jung, the Tao, and especially Jesus. Since my background includes being raised as a preacher's daughter in a Pentecostal faith, I find the words, concepts, ideas of Jesus the easiest for me to comprehend, and the most soothing. The book in a nutshell: Time, past and present is an illusion. Only the present has power. By being present, accepting where we are, who we are, why we are here, our lives will have meaning, joy, and purpose. Worry and regret steal our joy and make us miserable. Worry is based on living in the future, and regret deals with living in the past. As a caregiver, nailing me down to the present wasn't easy. It was a place I didn't want to be. I wrote in Mothering Mother: Never ending The now consists of needing to call Mother's neurologist for an appointment and to write him a private letter explaining how things really are, noting the changes I see, the things I can't say in front of her. I need to change her sheets every day due to her incontinence. A permanent mound of sheets, towels, and gowns sits in front of my washer, waiting. I have to pick up the food chunks from under her table before they get ground into the carpet. I need to buy a plastic mat, but I'm afraid she won't be steady on the slick surface because of the Parkinson's, so I mark that off the list and write down carpet cleaner—four cans. Scrubbing the carpet might break up the monotony of laundry. I need to cut her iron pills in half so she can swallow them, cut her fingernails and toenails so she won't look like one of those Taiwanese dancers, put figs on the grocery list, call the post office for the third time and find out why her mail isn't being delivered. She loves to nag me about this one. I need to apologize to the neighbour for Mother calling the police last night and waking them up. She must have called 9-1-1 at about two in the morning. I woke up to the doorbell and the flashing red lights outside my glass front doors. I let them in and glanced out the door, noticing the neighbours standing in their driveway, looking our way. Now I'll have to assure them that there wasn't some sort of catastrophe. Mother's just elderly and gets scared or bored, or thinks every gas pain is a heart attack, or whatever it is that makes her do this. I guess I better warn them that this will most likely happen again. Mother likes firemen—it's the uniform. She loves dialling 9-1-1, or nine-eleven as she says, like it's some shorthand code for club members. She doesn't know about the other nine-eleven. I need to have a talk with her and ask her not to fuss at the kids. They're beginning to avoid her. I'll notice one of them walking into a room and making a U-turn if she sees Mother sitting at the table because she's forever griping that they really don't want her, that her mother would never let her go out of the house dressed like that, or that they need to stay home more and help me. I tell her it's time for them to be on the go and yes, they do love her and want her here, but do they? Do I? I know she needs to be here, to be safe and cared for, but right now I'm not quite sure what I'm getting out of this, what any of us is getting out of this. All I can think about is this list that goes on and on. Each child comes with its very own to-do list of doctor appointments, schoolbooks to buy, clothes and shoes to purchase, not to mention that I need to just be their mom.. I get only so many days, just so many car rides, to listen to their daily frustrations and sing oldies on the radio while we share fries and a Frosty.   This is a limited engagement. Phillip works all day long and deserves to come home to open arms and a smile, not a ratty-haired gripe who doesn't care if there's dinner or not. How am I supposed to suddenly be interesting, attractive, and pleasant? How do I keep this family going? If time is a series of beginnings, middles, and ends, then where are we? One month in and I'm already worn out. See? I wasn't kidding. I do know the realities of care-giving and I've never tried to sugar-coat them. I also know that this time in my life is now valued. I'm grateful for this experience. So how do you stay present in the midst of all this? How do you not get caught up in all the "doing?" You let it take you. You become overwhelmed, you feel the pain in your shoulders. You cry. You pray. You scream. You fall into bed. We think of balance as every day having balance instead of realizing that weeks, months or years balance out other weeks, months or years. Ecclesiastes. There is a season… Enjoying care-giving isn't fooling yourself about how hard care-giving can be. It's accepting it–all. Life can be hard. It can be exhausting, hurtful, and back breaking. But it can also be good.. I am one of the fortunate ones. I have a husband. I have children, and a home. I had a mother who needed me, and a Daddy who adored me and died way too soon. What I wouldn't give to have him here. I'd gladly accept the work, the load, but I don't want him here in the same pain, the same shortness of breath that wracked his body (heart disease). How do you enjoy care-giving? Accept that you are blessed, and that living in a frustrating, exhausting, chaotic life is just the way it is right now. Yes, plan for the future. Realize that you may come to the point to where you simply can't do all this. It won't mean that you don't still love your mom or dad or spouse, that you won't still care for them, but that you'll need help. Stop, take a deep breath. Find something to be grateful for. Say thank you for this one simple thing–a rose blooming outside your window–a hummingbird. Say thank you for this one thing again and again. Breathe deep. Say another thank you. The gift of CAREGIVING is that it really does remind you what's important. Your family, your health, your strength, knowing something profound and simple about life that so many people bulldoze over each day.

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