The Reality Show
Submitted by Debbie on 2008, February 5 - 12:46.
If caregiving were a weekly TV show, what would it be modeled after? Would it be ER, with frantic dire emergencies and constant personal drama? Or would it be House, with its brilliant yet egocentric doctor? What about Home Improvement, with all of us smiling fondly at the good-hearted yet fumbling tool man who blows stuff up? Or how about American Idol, with caregiver contestants lining up their loved ones and being judged on the quality of care each delivers? (I gasp in horror at the thought.) None of these really work for me.
Instead, it is Gilligan's Island that I think is the best fit. The castaways suddenly stranded on an island looking for a way to get home, but managing to make the best of things while they wait for rescue.
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip, that started from this tropic port, aboard this tiny ship.
My journey began not in a tropic port but at a hospital in Anchorage, Alaska. My mother had gastrointestinal bleeding, and I needed to pick up my dad, who has dementia.
The mate was a mighty sailin' man, the Skipper brave and sure.
My mother was brave and sure as she received the news that she had advanced liver disease with a poor probable outcome. And, as the mate, I knew my might and skills were about to be tested.
Five passengers set sail that day for a three-hour tour, a three-hour tour.
I, as the mate, had to step up and begin caring for Grandma (who was in an Anchorage nursing home), Dad (in his own home in Eagle River), Mom (in an Anchorage hospital) and my family in our home in Anchorage. I felt neither brave nor sure. But I was filled with strength by my mom as she taught me to be a caregiver. I knew it was not to be a three-hour tour, but a tour that would last three lifetimes.
The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed. If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost, the Minnow would be lost.
I was being tossed. At first, I had no fear yet no skills, so I'd blindly blunder into the unknown. I remember the first time I took Dad to the doctor. I had scoffed at my mother's tales of endless appointments and having to be übercareful to watch after Dad. When the doctor asked him for information (to check Dad's mental orientation), my dad's brain was in the 1970s, even though we were living in the early 2000s. I was shocked. The competency questions really brought home to me my dad's profound confusion. Then the doctor asked me about medicines and care regimens. I realized I was unprepared and needed to immediately get hold of this situation.
The ship set ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle, with Gilligan, the Skipper too, the millionaire and his wife, the movie star, the professor and Mary Ann, here on Gilligan's Isle.
I had definitely run aground on Dementia Island. I had my family and support staff, but really no idea how to use them. Where do I go? What do I do? Power of attorney? Ummmm, what's that?
Now this is the tale of the castaways, they're here for a long, long time. They'll have to make the best of things, it's an uphill climb.
And I have been here a long time. I'll be on Dementia Island as long as it takes to get the job done. It is an uphill climb, and I get tired and need to rest so I can continue climbing. And I have to make the best of things. If I allow the diseases and disease process to get me down, how can I keep going?
The first mate and the Skipper, too, will do their very best, to make the others comfortable, in the tropic island nest.
My mother suffered horrible guilt over leaving me in charge. I did my best to make her comfortable with my role as caregiver.
No phone, no lights, no motor cars, not a single luxury, like Robinson Crusoe, as primitive as can be.
No luxuries...lol! Now, that I can relate to. As a caregiver, I have stripped our life to the necessities. Simplify and streamline is the credo, both for financial reasons and to make life easier for those in my care. Dad's dementia can make it difficult for him to interact outside our home; it can be confusing. So we do "dementia friendly" events to provide him stimulation.
So join me here each week, my friends, you're sure to get a smile, from all the stranded castaways, here on Caring Today.
Please join me here each week so we can share with and support one another. We all need others to laugh with or at (which is ok, I laugh at myself a lot), others to make us feel a part of something valuable (the network of caregivers) and, most of all, others to remind us we are not alone.