CAREGIVER DIARIES: BOUNDARIES

There's an acquaintance of my Dad who was determined to drive a wedge between him, my siblings, and me. 

He almost succeeded, and was actually quite full of himself that his manipulation had garnered him what he thought was a long walk on the family welcome mat. 

No one, however was the least bit pleased. 

Out of respect for Dad, he was tolerated. 

We failed to set boundaries. 

We won't make that mistake again.

He was actually telling people he was a family member. Even medical personnel at hospitals at which my Dad was admitted over the years, were under the impression that he was a relative.

 

He set himself up as a helper; bragging about what he does for Dad, when in reality, Dad rarely saw him. 

Their relationship began around, you guessed it—a substantial amount of money changing hands from Dad’s to his. 

He thought he’d hit the jackpot. 

He’d call Dad whenever he wanted money for one scheme or another, or a free meal. 

(If you phone someone, and offer to take them out for a meal, why should they always have to pay for the meal and gas? Why do you never have any money?)  

Why is the retired, widowed, fiercely independent senior citizen such an easy mark? No one wants to intrude, but there’s nothing like a prolonged health issue to reveal the state of a senior’s affairs. 

As a caregiver, you find out disturbing things you didn’t want to know about the people in your loved one’s life. 

When they fail miserably at conning you, too, they really don't like it.

Bizarre behavior was tolerated for years, and was bolstered by our silence, ignorance, and Dad's generosity and patience. 

We learned that the childhood narratives "Be polite" or "Mind your manners" do not apply to human snakes. 

When we finally compared notes, the jig was up.

Dad's "friend" has sent me Facebook friend requests from three different accounts bearing three different names. No. He is not in show business, and yes, he and his wife have been blocked. Yes. He has a wife and a family. Specifically, he has daughters.

It's amazing that a person, who has a family, could have so much idle time on his mischievous hands? 

He has phoned and sent text messages to my siblings and me, at unreasonable hours. 

He has sent bizarre letters, inappropriate greeting cards, and voicemail messages. 

He has even attempted to befriend my aunts under the guise of keeping them informed about Dad's life. 

He has created quite a bit of tension. No. That’s too mild. He has flat out lied. The madness finally came to a halt in July. He somehow got my brother's phone number, called him, and accused my sister of taking money out of Dad's bank account. I guess people think you're going to keep that kind of thing quiet--or keep their name out of it. 

It was the last straw. 

I'm learning that confrontation isn't such a bad thing after all. Some things need to be out in the open, and demand an explanation. 

Watching a devil try to backpedal their way out of their scheme is quite amusing. 

What is NOT amusing is finding out who's willing to believe a lie about you or your loved ones, and join ranks with those who seek to tear your family apart. 

There are two people who are not happy that Dad has chosen to sever ties with the individual. It means that he has taken a side, and for some reason the notion that he has sided with his children is repulsive and unacceptable.

The busybodies phone him almost every day to find out the status of the situation. "Have you talked to so and so? Does he still come by? Have you been out with him? Don't you miss your friend? Weren't you two very close?" 

They're always talking about how busy the Devil is, too. They should know. He is clearly, in this matter, their supervisor. 

 

What their goal is, I'm not sure, but they are certainly not winning any brownie points from me by sticking their noses into business that is not theirs, but, alas, there is motivation. One of them is having financial trouble again, and wants to sell her home that is in dire need of repairs. She can’t currently afford her bills, and suggested moving in with Dad to “help” him. 

Helping herself is more like it. 

She too, has a family. 

She has a history of phoning him whenever she needs oil for the winter, or can’t pay some other bill. When she lamented that she didn’t have money to travel to a family member’s funeral, Dad paid for her trip. 

She knows I do not tolerate Dad's "friend" and has now become his ally. 

He phones her now that he knows not to phone here. Now she daily pleads the friend’s case. 

Repeatedly, Dad informs her that his family is more important. 

She’s concluded that I'll most certainly leave Dad if he has a change of heart and the "friend" is allowed access again. 

She is, of course, sad, powerless, and most delusional. 

I'm not abandoning Dad, and 911 is an easy number to remember if I ever need to use it.

I'm always puzzled by people who phone each and every day, not to be encouraging, or offer help of any kind, but to stir up confusion. 

Their line of questioning is always the same. 

They gossip about others, and seek to find out what I’m doing, or if I’m still here. 

It makes me wonder what's going on in their own homes and families that could use their attention. 

It makes me wonder what on Earth they have been told. 

It also makes me know they don't care for Dad's welfare at all, otherwise, they would stop. 

Instead, they stew in their own juice, and fail to see how detrimental their divisive behavior is to their own health.

Dad has taken a stand. Hallelujah. 

It is foolish, crazy, asinine, and stupid to allow others to create drama in your home, while they enjoy peace in theirs. 

Stopping the busybodies in your life is simple. 

Stop telling them ALL of your business. 

Stopping the users and opportunists in your life is simple, too. Stop bragging about what you have. 

Be discerning about confiding in others. 

Notice how your friends impact your family. 

Set, and honor boundaries. 

People do what you ALLOW, and for some reason, think their recklessness will be welcomed by your family. 

If you do answer your phone, a busybody can bring up a subject twenty different ways, but you don't ever have to engage, or spill the tea. 

You don’t ever have to empty your guts about everything you know. 

Don't take the bite. 

When you find that a person is only concerned with perpetuating strife, you can, as politely as you know how, let them know that you are not interested in joining them...or feeding their obsession...or encouraging their nosiness.

There really, really, really is no kind way to tell someone to mind their own business. 

Sometimes, however, you just have to do it...and, perhaps, practice keeping your own mouth shut, so that you do not encourage familiar spirits to be more familiar than they already are. 

Some busybodies and users were invited in to your world by YOU. 

Your family members, however, shouldn't have to deal with the monsters YOU created. 

If they have to, they will. 

"Family friend" is a designation given by the consensus a family, not an individual family member. Check your friends. Don't allow anyone to disrespect or disregard your family. Don't you do it, either. 

Be discreet with what you say to others. 

Failure to tame your own tongue, may land you outside of the family information loop.

If you can’t keep a lid on your own business, don't be appalled that no one will trust you with theirs.

One busybody is all it takes to send crashing to the floor all that is already on a caregiver’s plate. 

Don't let their meddling go on too long. 

Don't laugh it off, or consider it harmless. 

Nip it. 

TODAY.

 

CAREGIVER DIARIES: SPEAK UP

When they want something, are running low on cash, can't pay for their utility bills, car notes, roof repairs; want spending money for trips, bail, clothes, gas, plane tickets, free meals, etc., the phone rings--early and often. Today was no exception. 

I let it ring. 

It's not for me, anyway, and thankfully my wise dad is getting wiser. 

My brother is in town, and is giving me a break this morning, and I appreciate it. 

Today is truly a new day.

Late Thursday night, I watched author, A. Michael Bloom's YouTube interview concerning care giving. 

He said, "There's no clarity to the role. You jump in...you do it...then you kinda work it out along the way." 
Every word he said resonated. Just the thought that someone, even a stranger, understands your plight, is a godsend. Watching it was prophetic. 

It prepared me for yesterday.

For me, the sickness and household responsibilities are a piece of cake. 

The busybodies in my dad's life, were what was threatening to make me rethink my decision to be here. 

There's nothing like a live-in caregiver to throw a monkey wrench in the plots and plans of users and opportunists, looking to take advantage of a seasoned citizen. 

I swear. Some people must really think I'm here re-enacting scenes from "Misery".

Them: "You need some help. You don't need to be here alone."

Him: "I have help. My daughter is here."

Them: "Oh, I don't mean your daughter."

What the actual hell?

Naturally, there won't be one thin dime coming along with their shady advice or suggestions. 

It's like the clowns who convinced my dad to buy a flip phone so they could have access to him (as if I was monitoring the home phone). 

He ended up with a bill for something he couldn't even use nor see. 
Not one of them has counted the cost of him hiring a team of people to come in and do what's been done, but they'd apparently rather see any crackhead serial killer here with him, than any one of his own children. 

I guess it is infuriating to have to find another seasoned patsy to take advantage of.

To some, as a caregiver, you're a problem. 

No matter how necessary your consistent presence is to the well-being of your loved one, some people who have had a history of being in your loved one's pockets and purses, would rather see them weak, alone, struggling, and helpless. 

It makes them an easier mark. 

If they think your loved one has unlimited resources, to which they can have access, they can be relentless in their attempts to destroy the unity of your family. 

Why, and how some people equate your role as a caregiver with "living the life of Riley", I will never know. 

I do believe some people think I'm getting, and have been getting paid! 

The notion that I'm here, not because I'm in debt or need a place to live, but because I care about my own father's well-being, must be too foreign to grasp!

Yesterday, I found out, for sure, who has been stirring up strife in my family, and which other imps have been willing accomplices. They've been doing it for years--even when my mother was alive. 

I'm disappointed, but not immobilized. 

I don't like how I felt yesterday, but at least I was neither intimidated nor afraid as I spoke. 

Venom, blame, and accusations were being hurled at me. I was being looked upon with hatred. 

I remember when I would have been devastated, teary-eyed, offended, and on my way out the door. 

Yesterday, I felt empowered and didn't back down. 

The truth is so powerful, and I spoke it, with authority and without apology. 

As a former teacher, and conscientious caregiver, I document everything. 

I'm thankful for the neatness and organization my mother instilled. Liars don't have a chance here any more.

I've watched silently as people have done and said things, in the hopes of destroying the unity my family. I didn't think I could do anything about it. 

My siblings and I have been accused of stealing from our father's accounts, taking valuables from his home, preventing him from seeing his friends, exaggerating the seriousness of his condition, neglecting to give him phone messages, withholding medical information, overspending on groceries, conspiring with doctors, signing forms concerning him without his consent, and even abandoning him. 

I will never forget the day someone rushed over here because they were told he was sick and alone. 

(People sure do stutter as they attempt to wipe egg off of their faces.) 

We've been maligned in every way, but whenever my dad needs help, the people who have gossiped the most are nowhere to be found.

As his primary, live-in caregiver, I have personally been accused of "taking over" and blocking him from having an intimate relationship with someone. 

It would take me and an army to block my dad from doing or acquiring what he wanted. 

If by "taking over" they mean cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, nursing, hauling out trash, arranging transportation, taking calls, accounting, managing medications, running errands, etc., then I guess they're right. 

I'd be more than happy to relinquish several toilet brushes to them. 

I've been here, this time, since June 2015. 

Today, I realized I am not the same woman who left here in May of last year, when the last health scare was over, and he was determined he could go it alone. 

This time, putting up with busybodies is not on the agenda. 

I am here around the clock. No one sees what I see each day. 

I have very little patience for micro-managers, who have not so much as given my dad a glass of water, but think they have some stake in what happens here, and think they have authority over me, as if I'm some hired hand. 

I don't owe anyone an explanation, apology, schedule, or excuse for being a caregiver for my own father.

I thought that when my mother died, the incessant meddling would stop. It seems to have intensified with me as the new target. 

I often wished I knew how my mother coped. 

Now, I know. 

As lady-like as she was, she spoke up. She didn't bury stuff inside. She didn't give busybodies a pass. She didn't tolerate gossip.

Now I know who's been trying to run roughshod over my siblings and me. 

If they could poison my dad's mind, concerning his own children, they would. They almost succeeded. 

One had the nerve to ask me why I no longer answer her calls. (Caller ID is a wonderful thing).

People don't like hearing their own words, or seeing proof of their lies and schemes in your hands. They also do not like being told to mind their own business, when they've so long deluded themselves into thinking that your business was theirs.

I detest arguments. I don't fight. I used to flee from confrontation of any kind. 

It took too much out of me. Yesterday, once again, however, I pushed back. 

It's the third time this year that someone has mistaken me for a pushover. It's not their fault. I was one. 

Three times this year, I've confronted people who thought they could take advantage of my dad. 

That's a record for me, but I am done keeping quiet. 

I didn't have to curse or anything! I didn't run or cry. When your cause is just, you don't have to. 

There is clearly a need that shouldn't have to be explained. It's obvious why I'm here. 

Genuine people; true friends realize and respect that. 

No one understands like those who have been, or are currently caregivers themselves.

Since the first health scare in late 2005, I know who has been present, helpful, consistent, and prayerful. 

I know who has been missing in action, making excuses, and minimizing the medical scares. 

I also know who has hoped, schemed, and failed to be the next Mrs. Williams. They’re the most obvious and pitiful of them all. Dad called one of them a “dirt dauber”.

I know who sees him as a meal ticket, who thinks he has some authority to garner them a position at his church, who's been trying to move in, who was anticipating his funeral, and who thinks their annoying behavior is annoying enough to cause me to leave my dad here alone without help. Ain't gonna happen.

Speaking up and getting to the bottom of stuff, is refreshing, and so is being on the same page with your siblings. Our eyes are open, and we are united in a way we have never been before.

Speaking the truth to power (perceived or actual) is critical. 

Don't let anyone shut you up because you're telling the truth. 

Don't be swayed or intimidated by people who think they deserve consideration and respect, but show none to anyone. Don't be deterred by anyone's attempts to demean and demonize you because you won't bow or bend--or go away. 

Speak the truth. 

Say what you need to say.  

Protect your family members, particularly vulnerable seniors. 

Refuse to allow people to paint you with their brushes because you won't allow their foolishness, intrusion, and nosiness. 

Some people's mean-spirited, divisive, strife-loving ways must be stopped. 

They have to be told, without a single coating of sugar, how destructive their words and actions are. 

When people find that out their divide-and-conquer tactics are no longer effective; when they see that their bullying won't work; when you confront them with their own words, it's fascinating how quickly they'll leave you--and your family--alone. 

"If you see something, say something" is a good motto for caregivers, too. 

Say what you see with as much volume as necessary. Shut down every imp and their plots. 

Care giving is hard enough without having to put out the fires that busybodies kindle. Enjoy the unity of your family, and peace your home as you witness the restoration of your loved one's health. 

Environment is everything. Create one that promotes health for everyone involved. Don't abide toxic people.

You're a caregiver, not a punk. Don’t neglect yourself. You need care, too. You'd better believe it and make sure it happens, even if no one else does.

CAREGIVER DIARIES: BE VIGILANT

This time, first thing this morning, someone phoned attempting to get money to have their roof repaired. 

I'm noticing that to GET something is the ONLY reason some people DO call. 

I'm all for charity and generosity, but some people are repeat offenders, and should be ashamed of themselves. Where were they when the medical bills from the most recent health scare, were rolling in like a tidal wave? 

Thank heaven for health insurance.

Check on the seniors in your life, everyone--ESPECIALLY if they live alone, are visually impaired, or are not technologically savvy. Many seniors are trusting, and will fall for a good sales pitch, or sob story. 

Many still embrace that good ol' home phone, and answer it as if caller ID was never invented.

Many will answer the door, too, just to have someone to talk to.

 

Many seniors still like going INSIDE the bank, writing checks, and using stamps. They want to SEE that mail go into the box, or into the mailman's hand. (When that letter comes in with the president's signature stamp on it, good luck convincing them that Barack or Michelle, or Joe, Hillary, Bill, or Nancy didn't PERSONALLY write them a letter--and they MUST reply.) 

It's not just telemarketers, door-to-door salesmen, snail mail, or internet scammers that seek to take advantage of the generous, responsible nature of seniors and their FIXED resources, though. 

Be alert. 

If the seniors in your life will allow it, help them to organize their bills, ledgers, and receipts. Notice patterns and names. Make sure they haven't been conned into switching their utilities to irreputable companies, donating to bogus charities, ministries, and missions, or buying things advertised on infomercials (that they don't need, or understand how to use). 

Make sure they understand that every pharmaceutical commercial is not tailored for their particular ailment, and that some advertised drugs could be useless to, sicken, or kill them.

Keep your ear to the ground. Be very sure they haven't surrendered personal or financial information, ID's, and are aware that their accounts are being debited each month for utilities. If they're on the phone and you hear them rattling off numbers, stop what you're doing and INTERVENE!

There are senior discounts for the services they use. Make sure they're getting them. 

Yes. They are adults, and probably fiercely independent and full of pride, but keep an eye (and ear) out, anyway.

#IJS

SELFIES

I used to duck and hide from selfie opportunities. Camera phones whipping out like weapons were intimidating. When you see those phones you don't think “photographer”. You think sniper. 
You just have zero control over how they're going to come out. 

The selfie is just one more thing that leaves you vulnerable. People want them when they want them. Right now. There's no saying "cheese". Before you get to tidy up, blot makeup, move that stray hair, put down your purse, or straighten your clothes, you're documented. You don't get a do over. Whether at your best or worst, how you're going to be seen is not up to you. Very few people bother to edit them, either. 

The insta in instagram is a testament to how quickly you can be pictured at your worst. No one is thinking about principles of design or elements of Art. No one is thinking about perspective. Depending on where you stand, you'll end up with a super giant forehead, or that tremendous, gigantor arm or hip, and monstrous hands. You'll be the only one not paying attention, looking in the right direction, or smiling. That roll of fat you worked so hard to camouflage will scream, "Here I am!". There will be the gum in your mouth— peeking out from where you tried to hide it in your back teeth, or a bugger in your nose. 

Until you see the photos you fear that your body has tripled in size, and you'll look like something in a carnival mirror. What flaw will jump off of the screen like a super ball? If you're standing on the end, you'll appear ginormous.

Once you get over yourself, though, you realize that people really don't have to want to be seen with you at all, and most importantly, selfies are just plain fun. They really are. It's you. Imperfections and all. You were there. Now you have a record of it, even if you didn't really want one.

Photographer, Bill Hart captured singer, and all around nice guy, Jeremiah Hicks' selfie moment with my daughter and me at the Howard Theater on Sunday evening.
I love it...oily skin and all...we were very happy...

"It's not so bad", I told myself. 
See?

Whew...: )

TUESDAY THOUGHTS: MEMORIES

Sometimes, we have opportunities to revisit the past. 

Our recollection isn't always the same as that of someone else. 

Maybe you've never talked about it. 

You just filed it all away and closed the door. 

You covered Memory Lane with a thick layer of asphalt, blocked it, and surrounded it with a high wall...and a moat...and a dragon...so that you, or no one else would be tempted to travel that road again. 

It's funny how our perceptions of the same thing can be so different!

 

While you were in pain, someone else may have been feeling fine. 

While you were sad, someone else was laughing. 

While you were discouraged, someone else was motivated. 

While you were less than enthusiastic, someone else thought it, (whatever "it" was), was the best thing on Earth. 

While you were in doubt, someone else was overly confident. 

While you knew the truth, someone else was feeding on, and spreading lies. 

While you were cast aside, someone else may have been considered indispensable. 

While you were denied, someone else may have prospered. 

While someone else was enriched, you may have been in want. 

While you gave, someone else took. 

While you were misjudged, someone else was promoted. 

It only takes one thing: the unfortunate or unkind words or actions of one person, to color an entire experience as horrible and unmemorable. 

Time and discernment have a way of making things clearer, though. Maturity opens your eyes to see the jewels you almost disposed of. You find yourself:

Laughing at the thing that made you cry,

Thanking God you didn't get stuck with the thing, or in the place you didn't think you could do without 

Feeling grateful you were told "no",

Shaking your head over every discouraging word that you thought mattered so much,

Smiling to yourself when you encounter the people who thought for sure they were superior in skill, more attractive, more hip, and more knowledgeable. 

You're genuinely gracious when you see those who were confident that you needed their approval, references, and platforms in order to succeed--and amazed that they're either still smarting because their schemes failed, or trying to get back into your good graces. At one time, they wanted nothing more than for you to feel insecure, be excluded, or disappear altogether. Now, they want to be where you are.

You don't gloat. You just thank God he allowed you to come full circle, unscathed. 

You're still here.

Rescue and celebrate the pleasant experiences from the dust. Find the good and the beauty. Think of all that it taught you. 

Do the work to weed out the junk, and preserve the good stuff and the good people. 

When you allow yourself to remember (not wallow, not dwell, not obsess, or regret, mind you), there's probably more of "it" and "them" than your fiercely protected heart and wounded soul has previously allowed you to recall. 

Pictures have an amazing way of reminding you it wasn't all bad.