Better Days, Dermont Kennedy
I haven't had a lot of time to write lately. Ironic really, since my mother-in-law has been in a rehab facility having to learn how to walk again in light of a fall recently that hurt her shoulder (she relies on a walker, so that's why a shoulder impacts someone's legs - the trials and travails of being almost 90 are far different than what I write about, I will freely admit). Anyway, you would think we'd have SO much down time since we don't have her to constantly care for (she's well past having the filter to know when we're working and shouldn't be bothered, what is or isn't critical, or having any sense at all that we need our own time to eat a meal or watch a show or just sit down for a minute). Well, what I found is that it's absolutely true that nature hates a vacuum. I spent one long night deep cleaning in her room, and I've organized her drawers that had become a chaotic and crumpled mix of sweaters mixed in with shorts, mixed in with night gowns. We took the glass recycling that had accumulated for months down to the recycling center. I went to Target by myself and bought Christmas presents. (That was such a weird feeling honestly - running errands without someone - I felt like I'd snuck out of the house after curfew.) I shampooed rugs and varnished the hardwood floors. My husband pruned shrubs and cleaned out beds we hadn't been able to get to. And, yes, we made it to a baseball game - first time in over a year. And my husband did get to go to the Steelers game with me, and we've gone out to breakfast four times (I like breakfast, particularly in the fall when the chance of finding something with pumpkin in it is high). I met a friend one quiet evening for a couple of beers and deep discussions about life. But in short, it's been a frenzied few weeks trying to jam in everything we can, bracing ourselves for when she comes home this afternoon and needs more support than ever before.
I know I've gone here before: caring for someone when you're grappling with the challenges of caring for yourself as you age. But the last couple of weeks have put a point on it. This is the way it's been through the ages - caring for our elders - of course, and it's expected in different cultures, but I confess I had a different vision for my "golden years", and it wasn't being quite in this role. At first I made little jokes about being under house arrest, then the pandemic happened and it was actually easier to be so tied to home base - everyone was. But once the restrictions eased, and I was still like a kid with her nose pressed against the glass looking in on the candy store but not able to partake, then the joke about house arrest became less funny. We are at the five year mark, and now it's not only not funny, it's a legitimate mental health crisis. I'm sorry to have to confess it, but it's true and at this stage, it's serious.
And I'm a little worried frankly.
I worry about all of it: my own mental state, my husband's, how it impacts the rest of the family, dogs included, and not the least of which is how our mental state impacts how able we are to care for the fragile human being we are 100% responsible for. I worry about the money. I worry what will happen if one of us gets critically ill, like cancer, and how we would cope with that too. I worry about how the house isn't really built to accommodate someone in her condition, and if I'm being blunt, the wear and tear it's taken as a result, not just how hard for her to manage in it. And the guilt? Oh, it's immense! I know there are so many people who are in worse situations. And this is a woman who has been very good to me through the years; how can I feel stressed about caring for her? What kind of monster am I? In short, my brain is firing almost constantly about everything. It's exhausting.
We are not unique. The Family Caregiver Alliance reports that 34.2 million Americans have provided unpaid care to an adult 50 years or older in the last year. My mother-in-law must be attended 24/7/365, and as evidenced by this most recent fall, things still happen even with at least one of us right here. I am not sure of the 34.2 million folks in our shoes are walking that exact path, but bless those who are because, I'm sorry, it's just not easy. No matter how much you love the person you care for. We're not trained for it, we still have to make a living, now more than ever because she's dependent upon us financially as well, and we still have all our other obligations.
You might be thinking: dumbass, get into therapy or go to a support group. I've been there and done that, but I'll spare you those details and suffice it to say I am very sympathetic to caregivers who struggle to afford or find viable options. I agree it's important, and it can help. It's not everything.
For us, I get out more on a weekly basis than my husband does. For one thing, I help with the grands and I have been having Adventure Saturdays with my granddaughter for quite some time now (as one friend pointed out, we go to the zoo a lot), and I have my Steelers and Penguins, but he travels for work quite a bit and gets some time that way. But we can't wake up on a Saturday morning and ask ourselves, "What would you like to do today?" Every step outside the house has to be planned with one of us going and one of us staying. The last time we went to a movie together was in 2019. Even for someone like me who is rigidly routine driven, there's a point where that becomes more than tedious.
We will soldier on of course, but for any of you who are also caregivers, weigh in! What are your challenges? What are your coping mechanisms? And, maybe more than anything else, how do you find moments of joy even when times are challenging?
