In a previous blog post entitled “The Job You Never Volunteered For”, the circumstances in which one member of a family often winds up being the sole provider of all of the caregiving needs to an adult parent was touched upon.
The emotional feelings that accompany being “tagged” as the caregiver while all of your other capable family members flee the scene boil down to just two: anger and rage.
Anger is felt and simmers away over the fact that there was no democratic round table discussion of how care was going to be dispensed and shared in caring for mom or dad, and, the manner in which all your other siblings and relatives fled the scene and “went dark” (became invisible to radar). What made them all think that I was going to be absolutely ecstatic over the way I was ditched out on?
In time the anger simmers and grows hotter until it becomes an indignant sense of rage inside. Rage over the fact that not only were you left on your own to care for your parents, or patient, but that over time, none of your family members bother to check up on how you are holding up, send you a thoughtful card, or even surprise you with a drop in visit to take you out for lunch or coffee at Starbucks.
The voice in your head, at first faintly, then in time blaring away like a loudspeaker in a drive-thru lane keeps up with the comment: I’m ditched, I’m forgotten, I’m damn well screwed!
Those relatives and siblings that you encounter at any family reunions, (assuming your family still holds them anymore) express concern or sympathy for dear old mom, dad, or grandpa, yet extend nothing towards you in the way of extra help, respite care (filling in for you just once or maybe more often) or financial assistance for the myriad caregiver’s expenses that insurance doesn’t cover.
So the months go by and while you slowly adapt and become accustomed to most of your caregiving tasks, you are still silently stoking that blazing bonfire of rage inside. The problem is this: none of us were designed to retain a flaming blast furnace on the inside. Had each of us come with an Operator’s Manual at birth, nowhere would there be instructions about creating and maintaining such a furnace on our insides. All that heat and rage begins to corrode away at you.
Your immune system becomes one of it’s two primary victims, while the other one is your outward attitude. But before it really gets this far, the decision you must make is how and when are you going to jettison that furnace of rage?
While you may be one of the rare individuals who has successfully walked over red-hot coals once at an Anthony Robbins Weekend Retreat, you were never meant to swallow them down and hold them in your gut!
Ask yourself, what positive thing is the hot coal furnace doing for you? Answer: nothing good!
The solution is: let go of the rage, let go of the pain, let go of the frustration, let go of the hate. Do yourself a huge favor by choosing not to own it any longer.
Consider substituting the hot coal furnace with something pleasant and rewarding. Hell, why not? When you begin to think about it, what initially felt like a suck-ass gig; you have become damn well proficient and competent at! Just look at the skill sets you now possess. You’ve come a long way in overcoming the fear and trepidation in dispensing medications, giving injections, handling patient crying jags, mood swings, hostility, expertly folding, moving and dealing with wheelchairs, canes, Merri-walkers, portable oxygen units, glucose meters, etc.
You are a damned good and worthy person! That’s a fact.
You are appreciated by your patient that you are providing care for in more ways than they may show or say to you at times. You can assume correctly that you are high on the list of their daily prayers. You have prevailed and weathered through a tough storm!
It is a probable sure bet that any of the relatives that bailed on you way back when would not have survived and made the cut like you have. I’m not advocating substituting smugness here for rage. I’m advocating dumping the rage and get used to acknowledging and positively validating yourself at the end of each day for the caregiving work that you have come to dispense with.
Perhaps this blog should close with this suggested end-of-the-day affirmation for those who are Caregivers:
Thank You Heavenly Father for my health and strength.
Thank You for the courage and tenacity you have bestowed upon me to care for (relative’s name).
Thank You for allowing me to master the skills of a successful caregiver.
Tomorrow is a new day that I look forward to with your help in providing heartfelt service and compassion.
I am proud of what you have helped me become for the better.
I am strong and I will grow stronger as I let go of the negative energy I once held.
Jeff Dodson is a Writer and Advocate of Alzheimer’s Research and Caregiving.
He lives in Elk Grove, California.
E-mail him at: www.imaginatic@frontier.com
or his Blog Site at: www. nvlwtrdodson.blogspot.com/
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