If you have to, need, or want to be seen doing or caring for others, check your motives. Reconsider whether you're fit for the task. It will eat you alive if your aim is anything other than being helpful.
Priorities have been reordered. Protocols have limited what people can safely do. We're in a pandemic. It's sad that it has to be repeated, but we really are in a in a whole, freaking pandemic.
Gone are the days of visiting homes, hospitals, nursing and assisted living facilities all willy-nilly.
Caregiving may have seemed an honorable, yet daunting and lonely task before. I can only imagine how it is for caregivers now--particularly the unlikely ones.
I remember so many of my elders' admonition to be careful how you treat people. "You never know who's gonna give you your last drink of water", was one way they put it. Another, more "tight-but-it's-right version was, "You never know who's gonna have to wipe your ass".
Who steps in to help these days, may be determined by sheer availability--not preference, affection, familial ties, friendship, or obligation.
Age, stamina, job flexibility, proximity, transportation, vaccination status, financial stability, etc., all factor in.
Even if people want to pitch in, they may now be constrained by Covid protocols. When an exasperated caregiver asks, "Damn. Where is everybody?", the answer that may seem like an excuse is, "We're in a pandemic".
Everything has changed, including the dynamics of relationships. The perceived strength of relationships is being tested and exposed. Pre-pandemic assumptions are being shattered. Who you thought was close, or who you were sure would show up if you needed them, may not be so-- or even possible.
So many people--the pre-pandemic usual suspects--are incapacitated, ailing, recovering, or are now caregivers themselves.
So many have buried loved ones.
Jobs have been changed, or lost.
Finances have been depleted.
Many have relocated.
People are attending to their own households, and rightly so.
What a caregiver believes that others should be able to do, is soundly corrected by the reality of what's currently on the plates of others--and some people's plates are overflowing.
What someone may have swiftly, thoughtlessly, or happily done for someone else in 2019 is a whole, different animal now.
Caregiving puts you squarely in the company, affairs, and thought processes of vulnerable people. Caregiving is intimate, and demands trust, maturity, and discretion. It can be thankless. It's only a time to shine, as it relates to your ability to be genuinely helpful.
Don't ever expect brownie points. Your, perhaps, long awaited time in the spotlight, or inner circle of someone's life today, won't look like you imagined it would be. They're not the same. It won't be pretty, fabulous, or exciting. They may not even know you're there. What’s even more heartbreaking, is that they may not know who you are.
The crowds and hangers-on of old, won't be around to lend a hand, pat you on the back, envy your proximity, or admire your commitment. The scene won't be glamorous, fun, or Facebook post-worthy.
Caregiving, during a pandemic, may be a solo mission. Unless it's your actual job, making yourself available to someone else has to be without expectation. You have to be prepared for every contingency, and be honest-- not only about your own limitations, but the reality of the situation. Otherwise, you'll resent and rethink everything you do.
Burn-out is real.
If nothing else, caregiving tales these days, will (or perhaps should), inspire everyone to get their own personal, financial, medical, and legal affairs in order. It's true. At some point, you'll either be a caregiver, or you'll need one.
The pandemic is proving that it isn't guaranteed who that person will be.
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