I Am a Caregiver
Whenever I write or talk about this, people get very serious, and try to lecture me. All I'm trying to do is have a laugh. I really am trying to be funny. Here are some of the things people say to me about my caregiving situation. I think they're funny.
"What can I do?" This is sort of an acting exercise. The person doing the asking really means this: "Please believe that your husband is the very first sick person I have ever seen, read or heard about. I haven't a clue as to what I might do for a sick human being. Shall I buy him a ticket on the first rocket to Mars? Shall I buy him a decorative filing cabinet and fold him into it? Shall I draw sweet little pictures on him with Magic Markers? Please, give me a clue!"
It's the caregiver's job to then say, "Oh, no. Nothing, really. Our groceries fall out of the sky, our errands run themselves." (I know what you're thinking: "Go ahead. Ask someone to do something." Have you tried this? I asked a friend to take care of my husband for an hour. She leapt at the chance to fulfill her often-repeated promise to do "anything and everything!" So she instead pulled a few weeds in the front yard, took pictures of herself pulling weeds in the front yard, dragged my husband to the computer to show him pictures of her pulling weeds in the front yard, showed me where she was going to store the pictures in our computer so we could look at them again, and finally, posted the pictures on Facebook.
"You're an angel." Do I sound like one? Funny, no one ever called me an angel until my husband got sick. If one of my friends or siblings gets sick, will people start calling me "Christ-like"?
"You saved his life." Wrong again. You might want to stop watching Lifetime.
"Have patience with him. You'll be that old yourself one day." Not at this rate, sister. Have you seen the stats on caregivers' mortality?
Here is my all-time favorite: "Remember, you have to take care of you." First, the grammar drives me nuts. "Oh, me forgot! Me has to take care of me, and my widdle sick fwiend, too." Second, the idea that the person thinks that he is reminding me to take care of myself amuses me. Trust me, it occurs to me every day when I'd rather soak in a tub than shower with the speed of a Marine in basic training.
"Pamper yourself. Get a pedicure." That sounds like fun, negotiating an hour away from home, and spending it having a stranger pick at my feet. It would free up my hands to take the substitute caregiver's incessant phone calls: "You were kidding about that bag full of urine, right? I'm mean, like, I just can't, you know? I'm just, like, so not into bags of, like, you know..." Yes, Substitute Caregiver, I understand. I was born with that special ability to handle bags full of urine, thank God. Think of how lucky my husband and I are, that I came by this ability naturally, though my DNA! Imagine if I had had to just do it simply because I had to, without being so naturally inclined!
"I couldn't do what you do." Correction: You don't do what I do. Your sister is taking care of your dad, your grandma is looking after her neighbor, your old school friend Sal is being looked after by...well, somebody looks in on him, right? Don't know exactly who, he didn't mention a name when you heard about his cancer on Facebook.
And speaking of Facebook, if you can post a picture of your lunch, why not post a picture of you on your knees, head bowed, hands clasped? I think people think and pray about my husband as long as it takes to type the words, "My thoughts and prayers are with you."
And let's face it, those thoughts are, "I knew a guy with that same kind of cancer. He died." Skip the thinking, please. No thinking.
"It's okay. Go ahead and vent." Do you use that word under any other circumstances, except when you're referring to heating or air-conditioning? When you call to talk about your pain-in-the-neck teenager, or tyrannical boss, I consider it conversation, and respond with empathy and humor. It's fine. It's life. But when I call and talk about caregiving, you want a medal for "allowing me to vent": "Go ahead; I know you need to vent." What was that rant about your boss and your snotty teen? Sparkling dialogue from a Noel Coward play? Bosses and kids populate your life, and you talk about them. A sick person populates my life, and I talk about him.
"Is he better yet? Why isn't he better? I hope he gets better." He has never gotten better. He will never get better. He lives with a chronic illness that will eventually kill him. I've explained this a few times while "venting".
"I know you; you don't want any help. You want to do everything for him yourself. Oh, yeah; I know you." Have we met? Bring over a pot of soup, and let's get acquainted.
"Stop helping him. He has to learn to do things." Yes, 80-year-old, confused, desperately ill, physically challenged people yearn to master new things. Next week, Portugese!
"They say it's harder on the caregiver." I'm glad you took my suggestion and stopped watching "Lifetime", but let's give daytime TV a rest, too.
"Here is a highly impractical gift, just to show how inventive and out-of-the-box I am!" Why, thank you for the season tickets to the opera, two hours away. Driving through the country snow will indeed distract me from the thought of my husband taking his usual two or three falls out of bed each night.
"Did you know that garlic fights cancer?" Did you know that this experience has made me physically strong enough to throw you across this room?
"You're under a lot of stress." Unless you have a Xanax, skip it. I know.
"You've lost your sense of humor." A priest, a rabbi and a minister walk into a bar and the bartender says, "What the hell is this? A joke?"
"You should write a book about this." I barely have time to rant on the Experience Project!
"What can I do?" This is sort of an acting exercise. The person doing the asking really means this: "Please believe that your husband is the very first sick person I have ever seen, read or heard about. I haven't a clue as to what I might do for a sick human being. Shall I buy him a ticket on the first rocket to Mars? Shall I buy him a decorative filing cabinet and fold him into it? Shall I draw sweet little pictures on him with Magic Markers? Please, give me a clue!"
It's the caregiver's job to then say, "Oh, no. Nothing, really. Our groceries fall out of the sky, our errands run themselves." (I know what you're thinking: "Go ahead. Ask someone to do something." Have you tried this? I asked a friend to take care of my husband for an hour. She leapt at the chance to fulfill her often-repeated promise to do "anything and everything!" So she instead pulled a few weeds in the front yard, took pictures of herself pulling weeds in the front yard, dragged my husband to the computer to show him pictures of her pulling weeds in the front yard, showed me where she was going to store the pictures in our computer so we could look at them again, and finally, posted the pictures on Facebook.
"You're an angel." Do I sound like one? Funny, no one ever called me an angel until my husband got sick. If one of my friends or siblings gets sick, will people start calling me "Christ-like"?
"You saved his life." Wrong again. You might want to stop watching Lifetime.
"Have patience with him. You'll be that old yourself one day." Not at this rate, sister. Have you seen the stats on caregivers' mortality?
Here is my all-time favorite: "Remember, you have to take care of you." First, the grammar drives me nuts. "Oh, me forgot! Me has to take care of me, and my widdle sick fwiend, too." Second, the idea that the person thinks that he is reminding me to take care of myself amuses me. Trust me, it occurs to me every day when I'd rather soak in a tub than shower with the speed of a Marine in basic training.
"Pamper yourself. Get a pedicure." That sounds like fun, negotiating an hour away from home, and spending it having a stranger pick at my feet. It would free up my hands to take the substitute caregiver's incessant phone calls: "You were kidding about that bag full of urine, right? I'm mean, like, I just can't, you know? I'm just, like, so not into bags of, like, you know..." Yes, Substitute Caregiver, I understand. I was born with that special ability to handle bags full of urine, thank God. Think of how lucky my husband and I are, that I came by this ability naturally, though my DNA! Imagine if I had had to just do it simply because I had to, without being so naturally inclined!
"I couldn't do what you do." Correction: You don't do what I do. Your sister is taking care of your dad, your grandma is looking after her neighbor, your old school friend Sal is being looked after by...well, somebody looks in on him, right? Don't know exactly who, he didn't mention a name when you heard about his cancer on Facebook.
And speaking of Facebook, if you can post a picture of your lunch, why not post a picture of you on your knees, head bowed, hands clasped? I think people think and pray about my husband as long as it takes to type the words, "My thoughts and prayers are with you."
And let's face it, those thoughts are, "I knew a guy with that same kind of cancer. He died." Skip the thinking, please. No thinking.
"It's okay. Go ahead and vent." Do you use that word under any other circumstances, except when you're referring to heating or air-conditioning? When you call to talk about your pain-in-the-neck teenager, or tyrannical boss, I consider it conversation, and respond with empathy and humor. It's fine. It's life. But when I call and talk about caregiving, you want a medal for "allowing me to vent": "Go ahead; I know you need to vent." What was that rant about your boss and your snotty teen? Sparkling dialogue from a Noel Coward play? Bosses and kids populate your life, and you talk about them. A sick person populates my life, and I talk about him.
"Is he better yet? Why isn't he better? I hope he gets better." He has never gotten better. He will never get better. He lives with a chronic illness that will eventually kill him. I've explained this a few times while "venting".
"I know you; you don't want any help. You want to do everything for him yourself. Oh, yeah; I know you." Have we met? Bring over a pot of soup, and let's get acquainted.
"Stop helping him. He has to learn to do things." Yes, 80-year-old, confused, desperately ill, physically challenged people yearn to master new things. Next week, Portugese!
"They say it's harder on the caregiver." I'm glad you took my suggestion and stopped watching "Lifetime", but let's give daytime TV a rest, too.
"Here is a highly impractical gift, just to show how inventive and out-of-the-box I am!" Why, thank you for the season tickets to the opera, two hours away. Driving through the country snow will indeed distract me from the thought of my husband taking his usual two or three falls out of bed each night.
"Did you know that garlic fights cancer?" Did you know that this experience has made me physically strong enough to throw you across this room?
"You're under a lot of stress." Unless you have a Xanax, skip it. I know.
"You've lost your sense of humor." A priest, a rabbi and a minister walk into a bar and the bartender says, "What the hell is this? A joke?"
"You should write a book about this." I barely have time to rant on the Experience Project!
By:
BlueSam
Age:
51-55
