Dear Readers,
First off, I must offer my apologies for having lapsed into silence these past several months about my caregiving adventure in Wisconsin.
The national pandemic that you are dealing with has created considerable pandemonium in my personal life, too!
No Covid-19 illnesses to report, though, at our wee abode on the Lesser Ravine in Appleton. Thank God! My kid sister, her funky dawg, and I are all doing well and “sheltering in place,” per the advice of the nation's top epidemiologists.
Robin turned 80 on July 19. I will turn 83 on January 4, 2021. We are not sure how old Doggie Brooke is, because she was rescued as a stray by an organization called “Saving Paws” (the brainchild of Purina, the dog food company) about seven years ago, somewhere in Kentucky.
That wily mutt did not keep a diary, but survived. Best we can figure, she's about 7 or 8 years old now — and wise beyond her years.
Where do I restart my narrative? Well, maybe with something about my infamous things-to-do list, which I fervently believe bubbles during the night as I sleep, adding things all by itself. This phenomenon is kind of like amoebae in a Petri dish, quietly increasing in number.
If you, too, are troubled by a things-to-do list that multiplies like rabbits in the night, I have some advice for you.
Do not let that accursed list intimidate you. You are in command. So, delete stuff. Or at least push it down-calendar to some inexact future time. For your own mental health, leave some space in your daily routine for important things like naps, phone calls to relatives near and far, silly card games, even a bit of Scrabble.
Life is, truly, too short if you're a live-in caregiver. So, cut some corners, folks! You're only human, and life does not have to be grueling by design!
I ask you this: Who is going to give you a break if you don't give it to yourself?
I have found, from my personal experience as a caregiver since late 2013, that nobody is working around the clock to make my life easier — and it's my sacred duty to myself to take care of that oversight.
(Oh, the sense of power I got, when I figured THAT one out!)
Well, enough about deleting things from your things-to-do list without doing them. I will add only that this strategy should add years to your life — and will assuredly give you back many hours in which to seek pleasure and avoid pain.
(We're all hedonists. Some of us are just better at it than others.)
I suppose I could also say something about prioritizing what's left on your things-to-do list. But I won't. Your native intelligence will tell you what's hot and what's not.
(Sometimes a long tub soak in the evening, after an inordinately trying day, is Priority One, without question.)
(See how that works?)
We are pretty tightly scripted by our circumstances, here in Appleton, Wisconsin. Robin needs help with everyday living, and, because I've been widowed since late 2014, I am at liberty to give it.
Robin lost her right foot and shin to diabetes in 2015 (a below-knee amputation), but has since been getting around with great vigor in her wheelchair. I've been told by physical therapists that most candidates for a prosthetic leg don't find it in themselves to master one. Robin was like most candidates. But, in spite of numerous diabetes-related ailments and conditions, including severe short-term memory loss, she maintains high spirits and the wicked sense of humor she was born with.
As octogenarians, we often joke about who will predecease whom, and who will get the dog. (But not while the dog is within earshot.)
We also joke about people we see on TV who claim to be younger than we are but look a whole lot older. No, we're not being mean. We're just wise-cracking to a TV screen, amusing ourselves something fierce, and hurting absolutely nobody's feelings.
(Sheesh. Lighten up, people!)
Robin, ever the kid sister (and a very private person) is always asking me when I'm going to go back home to Michigan. Being her older brother (hence, a big tease), I always reply, “I am home.”
That shuts her down for a little while, but I know she'll ask again. (I think it's a sibling thing.)
Hey, I have pretty much used this chapter of my ICAN caregiver blog just to say rehi to a lot of good folks who are looking after a lot of other good folks. But I promise to sound a bit more “professional” in Chapter 33. Do watch for it.
—Michael E. Hearons
