Picnics in the park

I kept a photo on the refrigerator door for a long, long time. The picture was of my eldest daughter and I at a picnic, taken at a moment neither of us was posing or prepared. We both had on sunglasses and were laughing together at something.

Here’s what I loved about that picture: you had to do a serious double take to tell which was me and which was my daughter. We looked so very much alike. Of course, I loved that!

I didn’t feel the same joy when I looked at my mom and wondered if people could still tell us apart.

It is a tough thing to watch our parents age and realize that this will one day be us. If we provide care to our parents, we are likely even more aware of the toll aging has taken on their bodies. We watch them experience cognitive decline and wonder, “Will I start to lose my mind any day now, too?”

Sometimes, watching the changes in our parents is enough to cause us to take a step back. It’s easier not to be faced with our inevitable aging than it is to look it right in the eye. We hold back our time; we hold back our energy. We feel a deep level of pain, fear and anxiety that keeps us from laughing, hugging, joking together.

And so, we are not present, when our simple presence could make all the difference.

I recall those moments when I so proudly would look at the picture on my fridge and think, “We look just alike.”

My daughter may have looked at the same picture, have the same thought, and feel horror and dismay.

It’s time to look past our obsession with youthfulness, and focus instead on relationships. It’s time to add more love – not less – to our lives.

Maybe we can close our eyes to the ravages of age. Maybe we can learn to open our eyes to the inner beauty of our elders – to the 25 year old young man with his new car; the young mother with her new baby.

Their hopes and dreams were fresh and alive then. Inside, some of those hopes and dreams still burn on, just waiting for us to say, “Hey mom, do you want to go for a drive to the park and have a picnic with me?”

Respite for family caregivers

“It’s so incredibly isolating,” my friend Melanie said recently about the time she was caring for her mother. “Even though we had great hospice nurses, there was often time when I couldn’t talk to anyone about my experience.”

Melanie helped her dad care for her mother, dying of cancer, through the end of her life in her own home. I remember talking to her one day about her drive time from her home to her parents, and how she had spent the entire drive home that week (over an hour each way) composing her mother’s obituary. Difficult, but so very important to Melanie to write the final chapter – the summary, really – of her mother’s life.

Like so many family caregivers, Melanie balanced her children – one at college and one still living at home – her family tasks and helping her parents. She talks of feeling too tired to even carry on a conversation after spending a day or two immersed in her mother’s care.

Melanie is a bright, well-educated woman who comes from a family with good financial and emotional support. For her, caregiving was isolating, exhausting, emotionally draining. What must the person with family, financial or emotional stresses in addition to the caregiving experience?

Another friend, Mary Ann, runs a local agency that offers family caregivers relief through a program called “Respite.”

The program, run by our local county and funded through state dollars, doesn’t ask how much money you make. It is available to family caregivers at any economic level. It provides someone to stay with your loved one while you take a break. It even pays for a massage, if that is what relieves your stress best.

“We all have a breaking point,” says Mary Ann. “Anything we can do to help someone avoid that breaking point is extremely valuable to the caregiver and to the person receiving care.”

Mary Ann knows. She cared for her grandmother with dementia; now she cares for her mother who has advanced memory loss. Even though her mother lives in a small care home, Mary Ann is involved in the day-to-day care. Ask her about her mother on any day of the week, and she’ll choke up as she shares – just a little – the pain of watching “mama” slip away.

And so Mary Ann encourages all family caregivers to get relief any way they can. She actively looks for ways to encourage, support, train and relieve the most exhausted caregivers, before they simply say, “No more.”

It is isolating, exhausting and draining, as Melanie points out.

But there is help. There is hope.

In the end, there is joy.

Caregiver tip of the day – slippery jammies

Vickie Young shared her favorite caregiving tip today: silky pajamas.

We were talking about the value for family caregivers to taking a caregiving class – something really challenging for the typical too-busy-already family caregiver.

But as Vickie shared how much simpler care for her bed-bound father-in-law was with that one simple adjustment from comfy (but sticky) flannels to slippery satins, it made so much sense: who knows the tricks better than someone who’s been there before you?

Find a class and learn tricks of your own. Today, we have online classes for caregivers that make learning fit your schedule. In fact, with online learning you can take classes whenever it works for you, even at 4 in the morning.

In your own pair of slippery pajamas.

Waiting to Exhale – The final stage of caregiving

My friend graciously allowed me to interview her on camera the other day about her caregiving experience. She shared how she began her caregiving journey as a long-distance caregiver, trying to arrange for care for her mother who lived all the way on the other side of the country.

Frustration and increased needs led her to move her mother to her home town. Ultimately she has placed her in a care setting, and visits her several times each week, remaining incredibly involved in her mothers care.

She talks about experiencing the loss of her relationship with her mother, and finding herself struggling to get her mother to bathe – her mother, who always prided herself on cleanliness (next to Godliness, you know).

She talks about how difficult it is to share what sets most heavily on her heart: her readiness to say goodbye to her mother, and to finally breathe a sigh of relief that her mother no longer struggles but is at peace.

She’s talking about welcoming her mother’s death.

No wonder she hesitates to share her feelings about caregiving.

No wonder she believes that only those who have been there will truly be able to relate.

I remember my aunt who cared for my grandfather to the end of his life, sharing a story that made us laugh and cry along with her. My grandfather had been barely responsive for days when he finally seemed to slip away. My aunt tiptoed out of the room, thinking, “At last; peace for both of us,” and called 911.

The ambulance crew loaded Grandpa onto their gurney for transport to the hospital where he could be pronounced dead. On the front steps, one of the crew tripped and bounced my grandfather – who promptly took a deep breath, and began to breathe again. My aunt simply cried.

For her, this event delayed the inevitable moment when her round-the-clock work would be finished and my grandfather would be at peace.

To someone not in the end stages of caregiving this might seem callous and horrifying.

To the caregiver who lives in that place of end-stage care, it’s entirely understandable. They can relate to the pain of watching a loved one slip away, one tiny bit at a time, wondering when – at last – it can all be over for both of them.

That’s one reason why I encourage family caregivers to connect with other caregivers, any way they can. Join a support group – join an online chat group – take a caregiver class. Connect with others who share your journey.

You won’t have to suffer in silence like my friend who believes that no one will understand how deeply she’s longing for the opportunity to finally exhale and say goodbye to her beloved mother.

Caregiver Training worth the investment

I noticed an announcement about a caregiver training course being offered – free – in a community in the mid-west. That’s not really breaking news, but the part of this story that startled me was that hardly any one had signed up for the class. The news story was that lots of space was still available.

When I talk to family caregivers I get a clue why the class was still empty. Families realize that training would be helpful, but how on earth can they fit it into their already over-booked schedules? It can feel like one more thing to do – one more task requiring attention.

I encourage those caregivers to consider whatever training they can get as a tool that can make a real difference in their caregiving life. I tell them about online learning options, and about resources available to pay for training for those with long term care insurance policies or coverage.

I say it over and over, because of these reasons:

Caregivers who have been through training experience significantly less depression and stress – ailments all too common for family caregivers.

Caregivers who have been through training classes are often able to keep their loved ones in a home setting – avoiding nursing home placement – for up to 2 years longer than those without training.

I tell them, “It’s worth the investment of time and money.”

In response, I hear family members who have completed training say, “I can’t believe that I was doing this all wrong! If I would have known these things, it would have been so much easier – on both of us.”

Or the family who says, “Learning this saved my life! I felt sure I couldn’t continue until I took these classes.”

So find a class, sign up and get going! If you can’t make it to a classroom-based program, try an online class. You may be amazed at how much this changes your caregiving journey from one of stress and chores to one of joy and deep satisfaction.

To learn more about the caregiver training programs offered by this author’s organization visit www.IPCed.com or www.aquiretraining.com.

Coping with the demands of caregiving

If you’re busy caring for a parent or spouse you may not have heard the rumbling from all corners lately.

Family caregiving is finally getting a little respect.

Suddenly, we’ve become aware that it’s not just the hidden few in our community who are responsible for managing care – or providing it hands’-on – to a loved one.

It’s nearly one out of every five households in the U.S. today – nearly 50 million Americans, according to a recent AARP-MetLife survey.

While there’s some comfort knowing you’re not alone in your caregiving challenges, the real advantage comes from the actions that this is inspiring.

Just check out the internet these days. Type in “family caregiver” in any search engine, and watch the websites, news articles and information start pouring in. You can find tons of helpful articles and resources if you’ve got the time to wade through the results.

Of course, if you’re busy caregiving you probably don’t have a lot of time to sit at a computer searching for resources.

You may just want to read a good mystery at the end of the day, or watch a mindless sitcom on TV.

No one would blame you for wanting a real break, when you finally get to take a break.

But I’d like to encourage you to take a few minutes to seek out some resources that work for you, especially information, training, or resources that make your caregiving job easier.

Imagine if you could communicate more clearly to the person in your care, and avoid some of the frustrations you now encounter. Imagine learning how to ask your friends or siblings for help in a way that they respond to, without getting offended.

Imagine learning tricks to make the tasks go easier for both of you.

Caregivers who take the time to attend training classes say, “It saved my life.” Often, they don’t realize how hard their job is, and how many little things they can do to make it easier, until they take a step back to learn from an expert.

You don’t have to dedicate every waking minute to this.

Just start with one little step. There are a thousand experts out there, just waiting to support you and help you be able to continue to care.

If you’d like to learn more about online training for caregivers, check out the Personal Care Aide Certification course offered by the Institute for Professional Care Education at www.IPCed.com.

You are not the boss of me

Don’t you just love it when you hear those words, “You’re not the boss of me!” While we usually think of them in relation to our toddlers or teens, I’ve heard them lately from two sources: a middle aged person (to his spouse) and an elder (to their child).

Happens to be true, you know. Think about our children, from birth, through the toddler years, to pre-teen and teen. When can we possibly think we’re the boss of them?

Not in those first few weeks after birth – those new little ones are clearly the boss of us, waking us from sound sleep, demanding to be fed, changed or just cuddled.

Certainly not during the toddler years when we find ourselves challenged by the simplest things (“wear your coat for Pete’s sake – it’s snowing” – “eat at least ONE pea!”). We negotiate, we beg, we yell a little, too, and usually end up resorting to bribery of some sort, despite our intentions never to stoop to that level in our parenting.

Anyone who has imagined they’re the boss of their teen children has been sorely tested, and likely battered and bruised in the process, too. Lock them down, and they’ll find a way to escape. Try to control who they talk to, and they’ll just hide their friends from you.

When our kids finally arrive at the “adult” years (I put that in quotes, because most of the people I know are still supporting in real, tangible ways our grown kids), we sort of sigh, and think, “I’ve done my best – my parenting is over.” But of course, it isn’t. Our kids call with adult challenges, crises and questions. We juggle and balance like high-wire circus performers, trying to answer their questions without being the over-bearing “mom who won’t let go.” Again, we hear, if only in the back of our own heads, “You’re not the boss of me!”

And then we arrive at that point we just didn’t see coming (or were in denial about): the time when our parents need us to re-engage in their lives. Only this time, instead of them giving us advice, we’re giving them advice. We’re helping them navigate complex health care issues, deciding what housing options make sense for them (and for us, of course), and starting to fill the gaps of a rapidly thinning social circle of companionship.

Sometimes we get confused and think that now, we’re the boss of our parents.

A couple of days ago a woman shared her story with me about having to take her husband’s car keys away from him. He is furious with her. She’s guilty, angry, distressed and frustrated. Her husband’s Alzheimer’s is so far advanced that he simply can no longer safely drive – as his two recent accidents proved to everyone but him (and his doctor, who refused to “get involved.”)

Her husband blurted out to her in anger last week, “YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!”

To which she replied, “No, but I am the boss of that car. I am the one who pays the insurance. I am the one who will have to clean up the blood from the people you hit. You are NOT DRIVING THE CAR!”

There’s no easy way to make this tough transition but to muscle through, much like some of life’s earlier transitions. We talk calmly – or shout loudly – but we keep on communicating. We keep saying, “I love you. I will be here for you. I will help you. But I won’t let you hurt someone else or get hurt yourself, if there is any way I can help it.”

And we know, as we’ve known all along, that we are not the boss of them. We’re just doing the very best we can, as our roles shift, our responsibilities change – once again – and we find a new balancing point in our lives.