It’s been over a year and two months, since I’ve become my mother’s caregiver. I had the intent to do so, primarily to fulfill the mitzvah (commandment) to honor one’s parents, prior to my actually moving across the country to do so. Yet, when I heard from her doctor’s office that she fell and was on the floor overnight until her hired senior companion came in at 10:00 a.m., I knew it was time to make the shift.
I left my apartment behind me as well as my religious community. I spent most of my time during the week studying and writing. Over the weekend, when I attended services, at the synagogue is the only time I spent quality in-person time with others. All this would drastically change, beginning with my move to Florida, whereof I stayed with my mother at her Independent living apartment, covering the 12-5 p.m. shift and overnight. She had morning and evening aides, yet, my roles overlapped to some extent with both of those shifts.
My guiding mantra, regarding falls was “not on my watch.” Yet, my mother had a fall, and wound up in the hospital with four broken ribs. I was her patient advocate almost 24/7 for twenty-one days, interacting with doctors, nurses and aides. I’d never been that interactive to the extent that I was during that time. Then, I was also with her, while she was recovering in Rehab. That was less demanding, yet, still challenging for an introvert.
My mother’s second fall occurred toward Spring of the next year. Being a patient advocate in a hospital for my mother is so much more challenging than only being a caregiver. My mother was in Rehab for six weeks, whereof I was also with her most of the time, interacting with staff, etc. Toward the end of my mother’s stay in Rehab, we realized that she could not go back to Independent Living. SO, instead, we arranged for her to go into an assisted living facility.
Needless to say, as the most involved of three siblings, because I am the only one with the time and mobility to be present there for her, I arranged for the move out of her apartment. I singlehandedly packed all of her possessions. Uncannily, my favorite painting of my parents was scratched in several places during the move. My values were represented by this painting that had sentimental quality to it as well.
Here at the assisted living facility, I am involved with every aspect of her care, inasmuch that I am usually the second person assist. So, I have had very little time for myself. Moreover, as a caregiver, I became totally focused on her care. I lost a sense of self. My writing… my studies were abandoned. Only recently have I been somehow able to start reclaiming a “sense of self.” It’s like recovering my soul buried in the debris of fallout from receiving a crash experiential course in caregiving 101. Although, I think I am at the equivalent of a 500-level course by now.
Part of the neglect and subsequent loss of self had been the disappearance of identity markers for myself. Small things, that had been part of my routine prior to my life being disrupted for the sake of my mother, had been missing from my day to day week experience and the losses accumulate. Listening to music, a familiar environment, writing poems, posting blogs, studying Torah (not a small thing), all encompassed expressions of who I am and what I value in life. It’s like becoming a cipher without an identity or purpose except to serve one’s loved one. Those who have been or are currently caregivers will understand this.
The starting point for reclamation may not be simply going back to prior activities, hobbies and pastimes. It could be sorting out the essential from the nonessential, and adding anything new that would be in accord with one’s values. The key issue for caregivers is always the need to find the time for oneself in the midst of caregiving responsibilities. For myself, I am listening to music again; although, somewhat new, and more akin to background music, for the most part, without lyrics. Rather, calm, meditative music that stills the restless soul amongst the many challenges day and night. Also, case in point, by way of this blog and others, I have returned to blogging, although, my content has now shifted to the caregiving world.
Perhaps, more importantly, before embarking on a reclamation of identity, one needs to take some time to figure out who one is, despite the abandonment of self to the care of the loved one. I have been taking walks every morning to the ocean, before my mother’s morning preparation routine. Simply having time for oneself to rejuvenate provides the opportunity to be more present for the other. As I’ve heard from various sources in the caregiver world, we can’t pour into others’ lives from an empty cup.
Moreover, the other half of the coin is the subsequent loss of relating to my mother as she began to gradually decline to the point where she is now. The meaningful ways we spent time together are mostly diminished as is the person who she used to be. This is the travesty of vascular dementia upon the mind of a loved one. One must meet a loved one where she is, not where she once was. This is the lesson that I now need to learn in its singularity, as it encompasses most if not all interactions now. As for the loss of who my mother was, I will speak about this in more detail in another post.
For now, I will conclude by noting that without a foundation, a person can become unbalanced. The remedy is to return to the aspects of that foundation that can still be recovered. Otherwise, rebuilding that foundation one stone at a time, by keep adding upon the stones, cemented in place, to help one endure the rest of the struggle. I know for myself, that without God’s help, I would be in shambles by now.
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