Caregiver Lessons from Waikiki
Submitted by Debbie on 2008, June 11 - 15:15.
I fondly remember summer vacations with my parents. As an only child, it would be "just the three of us." Then, as I grew older, it was "the three of us—plus one guest to shut me up." Finally, it came down to "just the two of them."
Since then, I moved into "just the two of us" phase, then the "three of us" period followed by the "4 of us" era and, eventually, "just the five of us." Or so I thought. It has ended up topping out at the "six of us," now that Dad is part of the mix of my husband, me, and our three kids. (Mom was too ill to go away by the time we moved in, so we all stayed home.)
Being the intrepid caregiver that I am, I decided on a whim to take all of us to Hawaii. I bravely bought the tickets, arranged for the rental car, made sure the hotel understood we needed three adjoining rooms and started packing. At the airport, we parked the car, handed our bags over to the gate agents and cheerfully strolled to the "security area."
Mistake Number One. I forgot Dad has a pacemaker and that he'd need to have the extra screening since he cannot go through a metal detector. Using caregiver logic, I decided I would just go with him. NOT! TSA had a hissy fit. We cannot go together, unheard of. Ask to have the secondary screening? Inconceivable. Request that they perform both our screenings at the same time so Dad could follow my directions? Ridiculous. For a few moments there, I figured Dad and I would be going to jail for our summer vacation.
Solution Number One. Ask to speak with a supervisor. Explain your request in detail and to as many people as it takes. Eventually, you will find someone who understands and will help you comply with the regulations. And, by the way, when explaining TSA screening procedures to someone with dementia, leave out words like terrorist, hijacking, bombs, guns, knives, etc.
We did end up landing safe and sound in Hawaii, got our rental car and headed to the hotel. It turns out that the 4th of July is a big holiday on Waikiki Beach, so the line to check in went forever. Luckily, the hotel provided juice and fruit while we waited. Seems almost like a fairy tale? Well, almost.
Mistake Number Two. I stood in line, waiting to check in, while Dad sat in the shade with my kids. Hmmm, disoriented and exhausted kids and Dad just don't mix. So my husband brought Dad to me. We were standing in line behind a beautiful (I mean drop-dead gorgeous) woman who wore a little bikini, a sarong around her waist, high heels...amazing. And she was very nice. She and I had been chatting when my husband brought Dad to me. After a bit, Dad tapped her on the shoulder and cheerfully told her that his wife just died. Her jaw dropped (as did mine). Then I realized he was making a pass at her.
Solution Number Two. When Dad sees an attractive woman and begins to move in, quickly remind him that "my wife just died" is not the best pick-up line.
Being the weary travelers we were, we trundled off in search of our rooms. It immediately became clear that two rooms were adjoining and one was across the hall. Duh, three can't be adjoining. Then the dilemma: Who sleeps where? Finally, it came down to the age-old solution: rock, paper, scissors. Beds assigned, we decided to hit the beach, But soon Dad was tired and I took him in for a nap while my family frolicked by the sea. That's okay, I pouted, I can read.
Mistake Number Three. We live in Alaska, so we do not tan-we burn. We need lots of sunscreen, frequently applied. Seems my husband got sleepy in the sun and took a four-hour nap. My boys came back fried, blistered and dark red. I was soooo angry I stuttered. I was purse angry (purse angry means if I get a new handbag, you may be forgiven). Fortunately, the hotel had both an online clinic and a Louis Vuitton store-how convenient? I took my boys to the clinic, where the doctor noted these were the "worst sunburns he ever saw" before giving us some cream and (guess what?) instructions to keep them out of the sun. This was day one of our trip. I sputtered and muttered, "I am sooooo getting the big bag for this one." The nurse got it immediately and laughed until she cried.
Solution Number Three. Sunscreen and caffeine for the troops. Frequent reminders to my husband that he "broke my children" and a long shopping expedition. Needless to say, I got to the beach at night but I did get to the beach. And by the way, I love my handbag.
On the plane home I reviewed the trip and started thinking about my lessons learned. I felt that the vacation was not what I had dreamed it would be. I had envisioned happy children playing in the waves, not these beet-red mushrooms that could only go out at night. Then I had a flashback to those wonderful trips with my parents. I realized how each trip my parents had a "loud discussion." Now that I am an adult, I see the stress of a vacation, the exhaustion from traveling and the unrealistic anticipation that our family will become one of those happy, sappy, smiling TV families. Guess what? We are who we are, and when we relax and go with it, the stress leaves and joy returns. Now, that's a vacation!