CAREGIVER DIARIES

I'll say it again. No one sees what a caregiver sees.
The lady who was actually getting paid last year to do housekeeping, (but was actually casing the joint, and cleaning nothing), doesn't come around anymore; Neither does the guy who never seemed to have any money for his meals at restaurants; or the guy who, when he needed and couldn't pay for a haircut, would call to see if my dad needed one, too; or the guy who was having marital problems and needed his car fixed and hoped this would be a nice new home for his cats he couldn't afford to board; or the lady who was trying to get my dad to sell his home and move in with her; or the scores of deacons my dad trained. Where are all of nice, pleasant friends who used to come by in droves when my mother was alive? Are they dead, too? Are the busybodies, who are trying their best to get me out of here, the only ones left? Do they not remember how June, 2015 began, and why I'm not at my home-- where I wouldn't have to deal with them?

I used to be quite a people pleaser. I was very accommodating. I fled confrontation. I'd surrender quickly. Peace at any cost. I used to care about being liked. I really did. I don't any more. You know what I've noticed? Bullies back down and stay away when you stop being a pushover. Now, I'm being accused of being a bully. That's funny. People don't generally want to address the inappropriate action that prompts your necessary reaction.
 
On any brief visit, an ailing person may appear to be the picture of complete health. They're neat, groomed, starched and pressed--and sitting in a chair. Sitting doesn't require much. The ailing person can talk, and laugh, and joke and have a rip-roaring good time from a seated position. Everything they need or want is in reach, and may have been put there by a caregiver. What a visitor's brief observation prompts them to do is conclude that the ailing person is not in need of help at all. They "looked" fine. They should be able to do what they used to do, and go where they used to go. Surely, then, a caregiver's service and constant presence is not needed. The caregiver must be flat broke or in need of a place to stay. The caregiver must be taking advantage of, bullying, or abusing the ailing person. The caregiver is preventing the ailing person from having a social life. Exactly what is it that people were doing before the caregiver showed up that they can't continue to do now that the caregiver is in place? Why is the caregiver the focus of such suspicion and hate? In my case it's simple: People were up to no good, and now, I know it.

Rumors can be a nuisance to a caregiver, but as long as they're just rumors, so what? I don't know what the lady who dropped by around 8 PM one day, unannounced, was thinking or looking for. The way she brushed by me when I let her in, and started looking around and calling his name, as if he was bound and gagged in the basement, made me wonder, "Just what was she told?" Funny though, when she left, he couldn't even tell me her name. "Somebody from the church" is what he said, and that will be her name until I find out what her mama decided to call her on the day she was born. "I just came to see", she said. It would have been nice if she'd come to wrap her hands around a broom, mop, or rake, or brought him the Fig Newtons, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups or IBC Root Beer he likes.

The people who are currently on a mission to send me packing neither intimidate, nor move me (except to blog, of course). Sometimes, I'm tickled by the things I've experienced, or heard about myself. I've got a lot of nerve being here now, because I recently learned that I didn't visit my dad one time when he was in the hospital and rehab. I guess I have a clone. My poor dad eats dry cereal every day, too because, I don't get my lazy behind out of bed until noon, play on my computer all day, and don't cook. My clone must really be something else. 

I learned, once again, this past weekend, that people have been telling my dad they have visited or phoned, and I allegedly told them he wasn't here, or was asleep. (I love it when people tattle on me. It makes me feel young again.) His doorbell doesn't exactly chime the quietest notes on the scale, and the ringtones on his several house phones are not in sync or harmony. When the phones ring, I'll bet the neighbors hear them, too. He is capable of answering the door and the phone--when he wants to. If I say that he is asleep, it is because he is...I've checked...called his name...and he doesn't answer...'cause he's knocked out. Why should I wake him? There are two times since June that I've told someone he was asleep--because he was. The nice people who called and said they didn't want to disturb him, but brought him a cake, understood that an almost 89 year-old person may need a nap. The lady from Louisiana whose phone call came in around midnight, did not. We were both asleep that time. Thanks a lot, lady.
It is now noon. The phone has rung several times today. Only once was it a loved one--my big sister. The other times, alas, it was a telemarketer.

I hear that I'm mean. I now have a reputation of being unfriendly, inhospitable, and cold. I'm "running people out of here", I hear. Well would you look at me, finally being all Sheriff Bad-ass! Did I say I've been here since June? Weeks can go by and the only time the doorbell will ring is if there's a package on the porch. Why must people lie? Just say, "I don't want to call you", "I don't want to visit", "I'm too busy", "I have my own life and problems", but don't lie. Every call shows up on Caller ID--stamped with date and time. Why lie?
Sometimes people use the caregiver as an out for not doing what they should, or for what they just plain don't want to do. An ailing person is not the same animal they used to be. Dealing with them requires patience, effort, time, and resources that some people aren't willing to give. What some people in the ailing person's life are adept at, is taking. They're anticipating a funeral. The ailing person doesn't really need their stuff, now do they? Surely they need someone to help them spend their Social Security check.

Sometimes, ailing people don't want to do what they used to do with friends. It will expose their weaknesses and limitations. The caregiver, then, becomes the scapegoat. "Tell them I'm busy", "Tell them not today", "Tell them I went to bed".

Cheerful phone calls are helpful to an ailing person, but the insensitivity of some callers isn't. Telling an ailing person details about why you're too busy, or giving them your complete itinerary translates, "You don't have time for me". Having a caregiver in place frees lots of people to go on with life as usual, without the added worry of the ailing person being alone. A caregiver in place also causes people to labor under the misapprehension that the caregiver is the employee of everyone on the ailing person's life, and subject to management, evaluation, scrutiny, questioning, orders, and even disrespect. The caregiver is no longer a human being who, too has feelings, needs and limitations. The caregiver is insignificant. The caregiver who, shouldn't have to do it, is wise to inform people if their actions are inappropriate. What's a good time for someone else, may not be a good time for the ailing person. Just because someone is ailing doesn't mean they delight in their phone ringing at the crack of the crack of dawn. "Oh, I was on my way to work, and just wanted to check in". Good for you. The ailing person, however, was asleep.

Setting boundaries is critical. Confrontation is, too. As a caregiver, the priority order that may be learned late, (and after dealing with crazies who don't think), is self, then the ailing person. It's just like the instructions you're given on a plane. "Put on your own oxygen mask first, then assist your fellow passenger." If you're worn out, stressed out, and burned out, who can you help? Some people endeavor to suck the life out of caregivers. Don't allow it.
Dealing with intrusive people, clueless people, rude people, and those who want to appear to be interested and invested but aren't doing squat, except being nuisances, is the low point of the caregiver's day or week. Hallelujah, when a caregiver grows a pair, and begins to speak up, not only on behalf of the ailing person, but themselves. Caring about what people are saying or thinking, as one is attempting to serve one's loved one, shouldn't be on a caregiver's mind. Fending off accusations and gossip from meddling busybodies just isn't on the list of priorities when someone is sick. It's sad that while you're trying to do a good, needed thing, others are publicly tearing you down, but you have to always remember what and who matters. Do not give your power away. Being tired will cause you to see the actions and words of others as more significant or threatening than they are. That's why a caregiver must never isolate him or herself. Don't abandon your own circle of friends or those who support and encourage you. Be grateful for those to whom you can confide. You know who you are, why you are where you are, and the seriousness of the task--and no , HELL NO, you shouldn't allow anyone to take advantage of you or the ailing person. Don't give people a pass for being problematic no matter who they are. If that makes you mean, so be it. You''ll find that the people who dog you the most are those who had a habit of taking advantage of the ailing person in the past. As a caregiver you do appear to be a bit of a pit bull. You are blocking. There's no more vulnerable person than an ailing senior citizen, and too many are left with no one to advocate for them.

Them: "So, Vanessa, when is your next trip out of the country?"
Me: "Why?"
Them: (Laughing) "Oh, no reason. Just curious."

Touch your neighbor and say, "Ummm hmmm". What I really wanted to say was, "Just how much money do you need this time, that you can't ask him for it while I'm here?"

If refusing to toy with users and manipulators makes me mean, then I guess I finally am. If honoring my father's wishes when he says he'd rather not be bothered makes me a bitch or a witch, then whatever. A friend is a friend--before and after a person falls ill. Using a caregiver as an excuse to check out of a friendship says a lot about the basis of the friendship. There's something about failing health, loss of mobility, and a dried up gravy train, that sends people packing-- and chock full of lame, dishonest excuses as to why they just don't come around anymore. They can blame the caregiver all they want, but the truth is obvious. They were never really friends.