Caregiver Certification eases fears

I remember hearing a family member tell me that leaving their mom with a new caregiver and walking out the door to go to their own home reminded her of leaving her child at day care for the very first time.

It’s scary. It means trusting someone you don’t know well to care for someone you love and feel responsible for.

Your stomach churns and there’s a sick feeling deep down. Your mind circles around the fear: what if the caregiver doesn’t listen to her? What if she speaks sharply to her, or is rough with her?

You worry if she really has the skills and knowledge to provide the care your mother needs, and the judgment to know what to do if something awful happens (a fall? wandering off?).

You wonder if your mom will ever forgive you for not caring for her yourself; for turning to strangers to provide care.

There’s no easy way to get past these initial feelings when you place your precious loved one (parent or child) in the care of someone else.

Here’s one idea, though, that’s gaining a lot of traction nationally: make sure that the caregiver has solid, formal training with a certification to show for it.

That’s a tough requirement, since most states don’t require caregiver certification, and many areas don’t even have classes to certify caregivers. It’s a fast-growing field for training however, and new online courses make certification available to anyone with an internet connection. Ask – and expect – anyone who provides caregiving to your loved one to be appropriately certified.

It might not take away the initial “first day” jitters, but it will give you a sense that you’ve taken one more step to ensure the safety and care of your loved one.

Online caregiver certification courses are available from a variety of sources, including our newly launched Personal Care Certification course from the Institute for Professional Care Education (www.ipced.com). For details, go to our website or call us toll free at 877-843-8374.

Caregiver love means laughter instead of tears

I’ve got 30 minutes until my next appointment and I need to buy a sweater. There’s only one person working the cash register, but the line is short so I should be OK.

In front of me are a middle aged woman and an elderly woman, probably her mother. They’ve got an arm full of items, but the cashier is working quickly, ringing each item up and folding it carefully.

The elderly woman hands a card to the cashier, who suddenly stops. She looks up at the woman and says, in a loud, slow voice, “This is your insurance card. Do you have any card that has a VISA or MASTERCARD written on it – down here in the corner like this?”

The woman looks through her wallet anxiously. I’m getting nervous for her (and checking my watch). She pulls out a few more cards: her social security card, a membership card, a Costco card. No credit card.

She glances up at her daughter with her head lowered and her eyes downcast. Their eyes connect. I wait for the blame to start: “Mom, what were you thinking?! How could you come shopping without your credit card?”

Instead, they both burst out laughing. The daughter quickly hands over her own credit card and the crisis passes.

For that moment, I forget all about my next appointment. All I can see is the warmth, love and patience that I have been privileged to witness.

Maybe the mom has a touch of memory loss. She might have Alzheimer’s disease and significant impairment. Her daughter clearly has spent the afternoon shopping with her, and clearly expects mom to pay for her purchases. It could have been one of those moments where caregiver stress maxes out the meter. The daughter could have simply lost her temper, and the mother ended up in tears.

Instead, they both end up laughing so hard there are tears in their eyes. They see the humor of the “senior moment,” and – instantly – the tension is gone.

Maybe they know, like so many other caregivers, that sometimes you’ve just got to laugh - or you might never stop crying.

Celebrate Family Caregiving

Here are two things you need to know: First, this is National Family Caregiver’s Month and second, if you’re not a caregiver now, you’ve either been a caregiver in the past or will likely become one in the future.

My conclusion? We should all celebrate this month together, since we’re all in this together.

You might think, “What’s to celebrate about caregiving? Isn’t that just an awful task?”

Here’s what family caregivers tell me, over and over again: “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was also, in the end, the most wonderful thing I’ve ever done.”

Mind you, most family caregivers don’t feel this way while they’re in the middle of caregiving. Those family caregivers typically identify more with feelings of exhaustion, frustration, stress and anxiety. They worry continually about their loved one falling, being left alone, needing more care, and – when they get a minute – about meeting all the other needs of their family, immediate and extended.

Sometimes, it’s not until the caregiving task is over and the caregiver gets some distance (and perspective – and rest) that they can look back and see what a rich, meaningful experience it was to care for a loved one.

Vicki says, “I got to know my father-in-law in a way that was so special. He and I became very close – it was a tremendous gift to me.”

Mary says, “I treasure every single minute I spent with my dad.”

Lorraine says, “I was my mother’s caregiver because she was my mom. It was an honor and a privilege to care for her.”

All three women remember how hard caregiving was. But all three women feel that their lives are richer because of their caregiving work.

This month, I celebrate Vicki, Mary, Lorraine and all the other family caregivers – past, present and future.

Sandwich Gen relationships take odd turns

I had lunch with my mom the other day. She was positively glowing. She’s been talking for several weeks about her new friend; now I’m starting to wonder: when do you ask to meet your mom’s new boyfriend?

What an odd experience it is some days in the middle of the sandwich generation! On the one hand, my three young-adult daughters still need some guidance and support. We have long conversations about finding “Mr. Right,” and I worry about who they are dating.

Is he genuinely interested in her? Does he respect her and treat her well? Is he financially settled or focused?

Thinking about my mom and her new relationship I realize that I have the exact same questions about her new friend.

Of course, this is my mom, not my daughter. I’ve chosen – for now – not to say, “So when do I get to meet this guy?” but to let my mother call the shots. She is an adult, after all. I am her daughter, not her mother (as she’d be the first to remind me).

But all the same, mom, I really think I should meet him sometime soon!

Sandwich generation still needs time for self

The term “sandwich generation” isn’t new. I was actually cleaning out my files during our last office move and found a newspaper article I’d written about the term over 20 years ago.

The experience of caring for our elders isn’t new, either, although it is becoming more and more the norm as our parents’ generation lives longer, healthier lives.

Blogger Kerri Zane recently wrote an article called “The crusty side of sandwich gen,” where she describes her experience being in the middle of what is nobody’s picnic: caring for her two teenagers, being a single mom, and helping her ailing 89 year old mother.

Her description of the challenges she faced after her father’s death are gripping: Figuring out how to do the tasks Dad always handled, while being in no way able to fill the emotional void he left behind.

“It is devastating for her and for me,” she comments, referring to watching her once “non-stop mom” now bedridden and frail.

Kerri finds a brief respite from her constant challenges during her morning workout. Kerri rightly sees these moments not only as important to her health and well-being, but truly essential to her sanity.

You might think that in 20 years those of us living in the sandwich generation might have gotten some breaks. We might have found resources, tips, ideas and technology to help us cope better.

Instead, I think perhaps our lives have gotten even busier. With cell phones and email we’re never out of touch, but that means we rarely get those precious times alone with our own thoughts. Our kids are doing more (that means more commitment from us); our parents are living longer (that means more expectations from us, too).

Like Kerri, my daily salvation comes during my walks. No phone, no conversation; just me and my thoughts. I try to notice the leaves, trees, streams; to find things in my surroundings that draw me out of myself and remind me that, indeed, life – though pretty tight here in the middle of the sandwich – is a very good thing.

Family caregiving brings joy with support

I’ve been a part of a neighborhood book group for several years now. We meet once a month, rotating homes, and spend a few minutes chatting about our lives, families and work before plunging into what usually turns out to be a rousing discussion of our month’s book.

All of the members are women roughly similar to me in age and life situation. Most of us are mothers or grandmothers; most of us can readily identify with the life of the family caregiver.

Last evening as we discussed John Steinbeck’s “Grapes of Wrath,” we shared stories from our parents and grandparents of the hardships of the depression. Many stories brought tears to our eyes, as we talked of parents recently lost, or parents we’re currently caring for in one way or another.

One thing we each acknowledged was the life changing experience of being a caregiver for our parents. We talked of how hard it is at first, how the role-change is awkward and unwelcome initially. We shared how, in the end, the rewards of caregiving can far exceed the challenges.

The shift in roles from child to adult, from care recipient to care provider requires each of us to find our way through sometimes challenging, unknown territory. As we support each other, sharing our stories and offering support and encouragement, the way seems less overwhelming and just a little easier to bear. Knowing we’re not alone makes all the difference in navigating our way to a place where we find joy and reward in the role of caregiving.

Family caregivers, faith and waiting

Three years ago, on a dark, late fall night, I sat in the parking lot of the ballet school waiting for my 14 year old daughter to emerge.

My phone rang, and I heard news that would change my family’s life.

“Your parents have been in an accident,” the voice said. “You need to drive to the trauma center to meet the ambulance with your mother.”

“Where’s my father?” I asked.

“He’s been taken to another hospital. You can call there and get more information.”

With that, our lives changed. I was thrown into the whirlwind of planning my father’s funeral, while trying to visit my mother as often as possible in critical care. We hosted visiting relatives, and tried to sort out tasks with siblings, all the while keeping everyone on speaking terms.

Every time I tell this story I hear similar stories from families who experienced the phone call that changed their lives.

Families whose loved one had a car accident, a heart attack, a stroke, or diagnosis of a terminal disease.

Families who got the news they never wanted to hear about the death of a young son or daughter serving overseas.

One thing I remember about those early days was the difficulty of waiting.

We waited, that night, in a “family counseling room,” my husband, daughter and I, for nearly 4 hours while the doctors tried to stabilize my mother enough for us to see her.

Then we waited, often hours at a time, for her to go through the numerous surgeries that would fix one bone after another in the weeks that followed.

We waited for a doctor to explain to us what to expect next, or a social worker to find out what resources might be available to help her.

Those moments of not knowing, of waiting for tests results or news of survival from another surgery, are some of the hardest moments of all. When we have the facts we can make a plan and start taking action.

How do we cope with the minutes, hours and sometimes days of not knowing?

This is, perhaps, time when our faith must take over. It is the time that we look deep inside and know that, whatever happens, we will face it somehow. We will find the strength to make a plan, to take a step, to continue going. Our family, our friends, our church and our beliefs will help us handle whatever is going to happen.

It’s easy to look back and think how very precious and fragile the gift of life is, but perhaps the most precious and fragile thing is the inner strength we must uncover so that when the phone rings, late on a dark, fall night, we can face the voice – and the challenge – on the other end.