During his stay in a local nursing facility, my sister was in possession of my
Dad's cell phone. She'd been paying for the service for him for years.
The condition of his vision demand that he have a phone with features
that are easily seen. Upon returning home, he asked everyone about the phone except my sister. She had the phone at her
home for safekeeping, and so, my dad assumed his phone had been lost or stolen. He mentioned the "missing" phone to a friend of his-- a rather nosy, annoying, too-familiar fellow, who
immediately jumped to negative conclusions. Surely, we were deliberately hiding the phone and keeping his calls and messages from
our dad. To make sure that he could reach him
when he wanted, he convinced my dad he needed a new phone and took him to buy one. It's the kind of thing a possessive significant other would do, (or someone who has been in the pocket of another person and wants the gravy train to continue). I've always been a bit leery about the guy's motives, and mistrusting of his actions. It's not the first time he's taken liberties as if he's a member of our family, and to say that my patience with his meddling is running thin, is an understatement. I was grateful and happy when a representative of the nursing facility phoned to warn me that the guy was trying to pass himself off as my brother, in an effort to gain confidential medical information. The cell phone issue presented yet another opportunity for him to stick his nose where it didn't belong.
What he encouraged my dad
to buy was a joke. It's a flip phone that's even smaller than the
phone he had. He can barely see the numbers and features. The friend's
actions may have him thinking he has regained the access he feared he
was losing, but his premature, unnecessary actions didn't help. If he was really attempting to be helpful; if he was really aware and mindful and thoughtful of my dad's condition, he would have purchased a large, smart phone, instructed him in its use, and incurred the expense. My dad has a home phone, and already had an adequate cell phone that he'd mastered, but now, he has what is essentially a paperweight, and new monthly bill
to pay. When someone is
already technologically challenged, the last gadget they need is one
that also challenges their vision. His friend should see his frustration
when he's attempting to use the new phone.
I see it every day...
...and every day, more and more I appreciate considerate people who mind their own business.
What the caregiver sees, hears or experiences is often missed or dismissed by others. The caregiver knows when the ailing person is feeling at his or her best, is tired, sleepy, in a good or bad mood, wants company, or doesn't want to be disturbed. The caregiver learns a lot about the friends and acquaintances of the ailing person without even intending to do so. The caregiver learns who is welcome and who is merely tolerated; who's shady and who is honest; who is helpful and who has been helping themselves.
What used to be allowed in the life of the ailing person may not be feasible any longer. Friends and acquaintances may not take kindly to that. As a caregiver you can gain enemies. You may get the feeling that friends and acquaintances of the ailing person think you work for them. They are mistaken. The sooner they learn how little a priority they are to you, the better.
Phone calls at all hours, or unannounced visits interrupt sleep and interfere with routines. The caller or visitor doesn't see the person they are trying to reach as they are scrambling from the bathroom, trying to get dressed, rubbing sleep from their eyes, being startled by the ringing, lamenting that their meal is getting cold, or mumbling, "Who could that be?". They don't acknowledge that a visiting nurse, or physical therapist may be present. The presence of a caregiver gives the false impression that the ailing person is always accessible. Sometimes, people lose respect for the ailing person's privacy, and are more concerned about their own needs, wants, and schedules. Just because one wants to talk or visit and the ailing person at home, is retired, or bedridden, doesn't mean it's okay to call or drop in at the crack of dawn. Too often people treat ailing people in ways they would never personally tolerate.
Inconsiderate micro-managers are the worst. They're not on the job, but they want and even demand a say in how things are done, and even think they are owed details and explanations. They want control. One of the greatest annoyances to a caregiver is an individual who sees whatever hold, access or routine they've previously had, concerning the ailing person, slipping away. It's weird, but the caregiver is viewed as some kind of insignificant peon, a pushover, or a blockade. Intrusive people labor under the misapprehension that the caregiver should answer to them, and doesn't have needs, timetables, plans, and boundaries of his or her own. Intrusive people, acting on erroneous or limited information, leave a lot to undo or clean up. If a caregiver wasn't confrontational, brutally honest, and direct before, intrusive people will certainly draw out those traits.
Maintaining peace and harmony in the home of an ailing person is so critical. The spirits that some people bring are positively toxic. The sooner they're directed back to their own lane, or sent packing, the better. Care giving isn't a game. I'd be rich if I had a dollar for every time someone said, "Take care of yourself". Part of taking care of myself is maintaining contact with the people I love and trust. It would be nice, but a caregiver can't assume that the ailing person's friends give enough of a damn to make sure that their words and actions aren't making his or her job more difficult or aggravating than it has to be.
