I led her
to the sun room, where he was resting in his recliner.
She greeted my
dad, sat down, then immediately began commenting on the spaciousness and
cleanliness of the house, and whether he liked living alone.
He told
her I was here helping him.
Her visit morphed into an interrogation.
"Where's your car?",
"Did you get your property tax
bill? Is it high?"
"Do your other children come to visit?"
"How long
have you been here?"
He told her about the church member who'd, after also
noting the space, made plans to move her family in-- plans he assured
her he'd never solicited or cosigned.
She laughed, then said, "And her
husband is dead now!
She would have still been here!"
He told her he
knew me, so he didn't mind me being here, but he was leery about
strangers.
Then she said, "It's nice to have company once in a while,
but do you really need somebody here all the time? People are crazy! You have to be careful who you let in your house, even your own children. They just try to take over, and you know how that is. Once you get them in here, it's hard to get them out."
I heard a low, rumbling growl, then realized it was coming from my own throat.
I've
been here since June. I hadn't laid eyes on her until yesterday. Aside
from my siblings, the people who have been helpful and encouraging have
been few. Was she implying that he should be wary of his children? The people who have been the most helpful of all? Does she even know us like that?
I'd let a
shade-throwing busybody in the house, and she didn't waste time coming
for me.
She certainly was talking loudly enough for me to hear her.
The
hair. The jewelry. The outfit. The food. Oh no! Did I mess up her
groove? Was she yet another church lady vying to be my new stepmother?
As much as I would love for my dad to have a suitable companion, a
nosy, messy one who would seek to drive a wedge between him and my
siblings and me, would never get my endorsement.
Wow...and she seemed
like such a nice old lady, too...bringing soup and all.
I hadn't been
trying to hear all that I'd heard, so I turned up the volume on the TV
to drown out anything else she might say that would make me want to show
her the door, and feed her soup to the garbage disposal.
She was yet
another example of the insensitivity that caregivers endure. Some people
pop in, drop dirt, and leave.
I wondered if she had any idea of the
stress my family has been under since my little sister found my dad
lying on his kitchen floor, suffering from first, second, and third
degree burns.
He'd been on the floor for hours, unable to get up.
Surely
she didn't know about the subsequent hospitalization, rehab, and
ongoing therapy that made a constant presence in his home a necessity,
and his acceptance of it a relief.
I wondered if she thought I couldn't
hear her.
I wondered if she thought this house was self-cleaning, or if
the food she smelled when she walked in, had cooked itself.
I then
wondered why I cared one whit about anything she thought or said.
Who is, or isn't here, why, when and for how long, is none of her
business. She's not owed an explanation for anything. Her snide remarks,
opinions and observations won't impact a thing here.
I admit I didn't know whether to laugh, be offended, confront her, or pray that she be delivered from the presence of her own children. Maybe her own experience fueled her remarks. I know I definitely won't be eating any of the soup she brought.
People are crazy...lol.
As he stood
up, when her visit was over, she saw the stoop of his back; his hesitant
gait. Her countenance fell.
He went to the bathroom, and she came into
the kitchen and tried to engage me in conversation.
I had already
constructed a brick wall...with barbed wire at the top...She would be
getting little or nothing out of me.
"How is he doing?"
The childhood
narrative that taught me to be nice and polite, forced me to say, "He's
doing much better, thank you".
After an awkward pause, she asked, "How
are you doing?"
Without turning around, I said, "I'm okay."
Somehow, it seemed that her concern for me and my feelings came too late.
There was
so much more I wanted to say, but it would have included the speech my
upbringing won't allow me to say to every single misinformed, intrusive,
insensitive, callous, thoughtless person I've encountered as a
caregiver:
"I'm not here because I'm destitute. He's my father, and
like most people, prefers to remain in his own home. If cooking,
cleaning, nursing, washing, ironing, secretarial, accounting,
transportation, trash hauling service, stress, loss of privacy and
sleep, and dealing with nosy busybodies who talk a lot, call a lot,
gossip a lot, but do nothing to help constitutes "taking over", then
that's just what the hell I'm doing. Perhaps your time would be best
spent minding your own damn business, but if you really want to help, or
have some say in what goes on around here, try paying the bills--all of
them."
Perhaps she
wasn't quite deserving of that.
Churches have "sick and shut-in" lists.
Maybe they should introduce busybody lists, too.
What I've got to continue to do, is cultivate thicker skin.
Whether you're
the ailing person, the caregiver, or a supportive family member in a
care giving situation, cover and support one another.
You have to
be sure of the strength of your relationships so that the seeds of
discord that others try to plant (knowingly or otherwise), will just blow
in the wind.
Communication between the people who matter most, renders
null and void the meddling ways of others.
When they leave, or hang up
the phone, you can laugh.
Open your eyes. Who's always in your ear with
unsolicited advice fueled by gossip or misinformation?
Who's always
trying to isolate you, or demonize your family and close friends?
Who's
always coming to your home trying to start stuff?
In the words of the
great philosopher, Bernard P. Fife, "Nip it in the bud".
There's one thing old
girl was right about. You can't let everybody in. People with agendas will wreck your situation--if you let them.
Don't you let them.
Stay strong.