Last month I knew there were going to be big changes to my marriage when my mom’s illness forced me to fly home and we made the decision to move her back with me. But it’s only recently that it dawned on me: GULP! I’m a caregiver!
Big Responsibility
When I was in Denver and taking her to and from doctor’s appointments, I was helping her out. That’s how it seemed.
I knew I was caring for her on some level, but it was different somehow. I guess because it felt more like I was doing a favor than being responsible for her.
But since we’ve brought her here and I’ve had to coordinate changing her insurance from one state to another, getting her set up with doctors her, taking her to and from appointments, helping her pay her bills, and in general getting her around to do any errands she might need run I’ve realized I’ve become a caregiver. Whether I meant to or not.
Scary!
I may not have kids, but I’m used to caring for my pets. (And my crazy husband who’s always in some kind of mischief.) I make sure they get their annual check-ups (Wayne schedules his own, I just remind him it might be time to set it up) and care for them when they’re sick.
I’m not so good about tending to myself however. (It’s easily been three years since I went to the doctor for an annual check-up. Probably longer.)
“Good grief! How am I going to take care of my mom?” I panicked at one point not too long ago. “I’m not equipped for this. I don’t know how to care for another human being!”
And because of my mom’s dementia she does require care since she’s more like a child sometimes. I have to see to it she takes her pills, cleans her clothes, washes her hair (she can do it herself, but I’ve come to realize she needs reminding when it’s time for a washing), and in general keeps on the daily track.
Never Hurts to Ask
But you know what I’ve found? That when I start to feel overwhelmed or incompetent that’s just about the time I need to ask for help.
Sometimes it’s asking Wayne to give me a break and let me have a couple of hours to myself. Sometimes it’s calling the doctor and asking for clarification about a next step. Sometimes it’s asking neighbors in similar situations how they handle X, Y, and Z.
It’s Okay to Be Clueless
The most important thing I’m beginning to realize is it’s okay to be clueless. What I don’t know I can find out. No one (except myself) expects me to know everything or do everything right all the time.
Actually I’ve learned a lot in just this short time. About myself, my mom, lung cancer, dementia, and caring for an aging parent. I still may be clueless a good deal of the time, but every day is definitely an education!
Courtney Mroch writes about animals great and small in Pets and the harmony and strife that encompasses married life in Marriage. For a full listing of her articles click here.