The Zen of Caregiving

Ambivalent Feelings when the Caregiver Gets a Break

As a stressed-out caregiver, I was thrilled to put my husband Adrian on a plane yesterday morning to visit his son.  Yet in the middle of the night, I woke up feeling anxious and guilty. 

"How could I be so happy about getting rid of him?" I thought.  "I must be a bad wife!"

The same ambivalent feelings used to appear when I was the caregiver for my father several years ago, and one of my siblings would take over the job for me.  These feelings were often expressed by me over-controlling how my siblings took care of Dad.

I had the same impulse with Adrian, and could have ruined his whole trip by giving his son a detailed list of things to remember.  But thankfully, I held back.  "Let the two of them work it out," I decided.

So when I was anxious and guilty in the middle of the night, I told myself I'd feel better in the morning, and I went back to sleep.

Lo and behold, I do feel better today!

Feeling Attacked and Assaulted: Caring for the Caregiver

Sometimes getting sick or hurt is a sign that as caregivers, we need to take better care of ourselves.

Saturday night I was playing doubles ping-pong, with Adrian as my partner.  At 82, with poor balance, he doesn't move well, and fails to get out of the way when it's his partner's turn to hit the ball.  We play "alternating," which means you have to take turns hitting the ball, no matter where it lands.  Ideally, you hit the ball and then back off so your partner can get the next one.

Well, I've played doubles with Adrian many times, and usually just lunge past him to get the ball no matter where it lands.  But Saturday I tripped over his foot and landed hard on the concrete floor of our basement, bracing with my left hand.  I now have a swollen wrist and hand, but I said at the time, "Thank god I didn't hit my head on the concrete wall," which was inches away.

Thinking my fall had been a freak accident, we continued to play.  And a few minutes later, I tripped over him again, this time smacking my head hard.  It really hurt, and then I felt nauseous and said I had to lie down.  When Adrian tried to help, I said, "Stay away from me." 

"Do you want some ice?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, as I lay face down on the bed.  So he brought me a dish of ice-cubes and some paper towels.

"We have a freezer full of ice packs," I snarled.  "Get me one of them."

Later, after daughter Blixy arrived and was helping me prepare dinner, she said we had done everything wrong.  "You're not supposed to lie down after a head injury.  And someone should have checked your pupils to make sure they weren't dilated, which is a sign of concussion."

"Here, feel the lump," I said. 

"I don't have to feel it.  I can see it."

Boy, do I love to feel sorry for myself.  I can't wear my watch on my left wrist now, because of the swelling.  I can't sleep on my back without feeling pain at the lump.  Poor me!

But what is worse is that I feel like I've been attacked and assaulted, as if Adrian were deliberately "trying to kill me."

Later we figured out that I most likely tripped over his feet because he was wearing his mud boots, which are thick rubber.  Instead of sliding past him, my foot probably caught a bit, and tumbling I went.  Another contributing factor is that I'll do anything to make a point in ping-pong. 

Sometimes an accident like this is a sign that, as caregivers, we need a rest.  I have been feeling overwhelmed lately by my own work, and dealing with Adrian's needs on top of that has been a struggle.  Hurting myself gives me permission to care for ME for a change.

I don't really believe Adrian tried to hurt me on purpose.  It's not his fault he can't move out of the way.  What I'm really angry at is that I didn't take better care of myself.