August Ezine: Elder Parent Care Can Bring Out the Worst in Siblings

A Note From Carol

Dear Friends,

Summer flies by quickly. Are you, the caregiver, stopping to smell the proverbial roses? Sometimes it's hard to do.

Once I loved planting flowers, watering in the early morning and caring for them. During my heaviest caregiving years, though, that just became one more chore to do. I have wood planters on my back deck and a brick one that faces the street. Sheer guilt would force me to plant some petunias in the former and impatience in the later. Our summers are brief, and I didn't want to look like a bad neighbor who didn't care about how the house looked. However, that's essentially what I was, because I really didn't care. Every extra thng I had to do was just more work.

The spring my mother was dying, the city had taken a diseased tree from my boulevard, leaving a patch of dirt that was soon thriving with weeds. I made myself, one late night, tear out the weeds, throw in some seed and cover the area with burlap. Then, I'd water the poor seeds each time I felt I could leave the nursing home for my house to take a quick shower and maybe get a couple of winks of sleep. Somehow the seeds sprouted iin spite of my lack of care. My mind was far from this task.

I find even now, several summers later, that I have to make myself stop and enjoy the impatience as it grows happily in my planter. I let those heavy years of caring for multiple elders train me to groan inwardly with each extra chore that needed to be done. Far from bringing me pleasure, the flowers were just annoying. I had formed the bad habit of not enjoying the fruits of my labor. I'm now working hard at learning to enjoy the flowers, enjoy the nurturing, enjoy being a good neighbor. I'm working on changing my attitude.

Our mindsets, as caregivers, often run in the emergency mode. When there isn't an emergency, many of us stay stuck in that mode. That's how I've been. I know the emergency mode is there for just one reason. True emergencies. I'm harming my body if I don't learn to relax while coping with daily life.

So, I'm doing the hard work of stopping to smell the, er, impatience. Perhaps I planted the right flower in the front planter? Perhaps impatience with life, in some unformed way, has caused me to forget how to drop the emergency reaction and let go. Perhaps I've spent too much time rowing against the tide.

Here's to all caregivers who operate in the emergency mode when necessary, and then learn to go with the flow throughout the rest of the journey. You are wise. I am getting wiser. We learn from each other.

Take care, Carol