Someone stole our smiley faces. The bums!

On our door at work, we have signs with sliding smiley faces to let people know where we are. to give them some idea of when we will return. One morning last week, I found that someone had stolen our smiley faces.

Sometimes it seems like life events have stolen my smiley face. I went out to lunch with a co-worker and she said that she doesn't see me smile anymore and that I always look stressed.

I feel I am constantly juggling doctor's appointments and medical tests, and shuffling and re-scheduling appointments, plus shopping and cooking for Mom's restrictive diet, keeping up with the household chores. Lots of driving. Lots of time on my feet. When anything extra or different is added into the mix, I feel like it's going to push me over the edge. And it seems like there is always something extra.

I am still dealing with legal items from my brother's death, which really bothers me. Perhaps it shouldn't, but it does. I hate dealing with bureaucracy. And then, it brings his death to the front of my mind again.

Too often, at the end of the day, my patience is worn thin and I don't have the level of tolerance I need for Mom. And I don't have the energy to do the extras that mean so much to her.

My goal, right now, is to get more sleep more consistently.

I sure miss my smiley faces.

Courage

“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.' ” May Anne Radmacher

Sometimes I find it so hard to deal with the emotions that come along with caregiving. I find that most people don't understand...only those who are caregivers or have been seem to instinctively know that I ride a roller coaster of emotions. More and more, I find that many of the things that others think are important, and that I used to care about, strike me as shallow concerns.

I did a lot of crying when my brother had his stroke. But then, I envisioned time together. I still cry over his loss.

I cry as I see Mom go downhill; I grieve for her losses. Although I feel very selfish about it, I grieve for myself.

At the same time, I am so thankful for small acts of kindness and compassion from friends and family. I wonder how many people realize that even small acts of kindness can give another person the courage to keep trying each day. The smile, the kind word, the funny email, the phone call, the hug, the "I care" all help me to face each day and try to find joy in it. All of you are my angels.

Transitions

When Wes had his stroke, I felt like I had been hit upside of the head with a 2 x 4. How could I cope with this? I found myself grieving for the loss of the person he was, having to adjust to a different relationship--one in which I was the adult taking care of a large, lost child.

Somehow, we developed a routine and, even though there were more doctors, more meds to take care of, more juggling of time, everything seemed to work. And Wes seemed to be getting better.

And then, I found one morning that he had passed away during the night. I felt like I had been hit upside of the head with a 2 x 4 again. Had there been something more I could have done? Had I missed something? Had I not been aggressive enough in his care? As I think back on things, I really don't know if I could have done anything more that would have made a difference.

And then, there was the rush to take care of things. Having to pick out a mortuary immediately, having to make funeral arrangements the same day, having to deal with the funeral itself.

And then, having to go back to work. Everything is just supposed to go back to normal. I'm supposed to jump back in and be the person I was before all of this. And I really don't know what I'm doing and why.

Stress

I was watching/listening to our local PBS station the other night while I was getting ready for bed, after having helped Mom with her bath and closed up the house. I listened to a well-known author telling us that there is no stress in the world. It's all in how we decide to react to situations.

I find it hard to believe that this person has ever been in the position that caregivers are in. I can't believe that he has been in the emergency room at 3:00 in the morning with a loved one in incredible pain which no drug can touch....or watched the cognitive and/or physical decline of a loved one....or gone without sleep in order to tend to someone else's needs.

I agree that we can do a great deal to alleviate the stress of many situations. For caregivers, I think this is a constant effort. And when dealing with crisis, or ongoing crises, I don't see how it is possible. When you are in the trenches and bombs are being lobbed at you, it's pretty hard to keep your head up, let alone see the sunlight.

I think that caregivers are a pretty awesome group of people because we manage to hear the bird singing and see the sunlight, at least sometimes. We have no control over the bombs that are lobbed at us or the crises that we face.

I work every day to look for the good. Just the same, saying there is no stress does not make it so.

Holiday Dinner

Now that all of the kids are grown and have homes and families of their own, they rotate hosting holiday dinners. This year, the youngest boy and his wife have a house, rather than an apartment, and hosted for the first time. Everyone contributes to the dinner, so that all of the work doesn’t fall on one family. (I contribute my special dinner rolls.) They always fix special portions to meet Grandma’s dietary needs.

It makes me feel good to see that they all have married special people and that they get along so well together. It’s so great to see them all working together and just automatically helping with each other’s children…and children that automatically go to any adult in the family for help or attention.

We have a lot to be thankful for.

Birthday Dinner

Sunday, November 7th, was Mom's 92nd birthday. My brother was in town from Missouri and the kids had a birthday dinner for Mom. It's always good to be able to visit and catch up with each other. Mom was not feeling too good, but enjoyed herself just the same. Mom loves holding the babies and visiting with everyone.

The Blinds

November 4th, 2010

When I was young and shared apartments, we always had a division of responsibilities. Every Saturday, each roommate's chores rotated. Everything got done (usually) and the work was divided evenly (mostly). Every so often, over the years, I look at some chore and think, "I sure wish I had a chore wheel and I could point to someone else whose turn it was to clean the bathroom or the kitchen or . . . ."

I hate being the "man of the house." I have learned that "if it is to be, it's up to me." Needless to say, a lot of things don't get done around here. But I do get to open the blinds and unlock the doors in the morning and close the blinds and lock the doors every night. Day after day, night after night. I love our blinds, but they represent the fact that I am in charge. The blinds are the least of the things I am responsible for. But they are always, always there, every day, every night.