Tag Archives: caregiver

Another day, another Doctor: Pt. V

Posted in August by

“Yeah”, Miss Cathy said, agreeing with me as if I’d been serious when I’d said, “From your lips to God’s ear”, this in response to her saying that “I could die before her”.

”Nobody’s time is guaranteed in this life you know.”

She continued as if we were really having a conversation about mortality instead of verbally sparring with each other.

The fact that I’d just ‘wished’ an early death on myself to get away from her completely going over her head.

“You don’t have to be a certain age to die.” She said, quite please with herself, looking to the doctor for a visual ‘high five’ as if she’d just ‘nailed it’ with her observation.

Dr G was sitting between the two of us, poor man (Switzerland between France and Germany) awkwardly trying to find some neutral place to gaze upon.

“Oh my God!”, was all I could think. “Shoot me, shoot me now!”

“Mother” I interrupted her before she could continue gloating about the possibility of my early demise.

“I was being facetious.”

“You know what” Dr G said, having found a safe spot near the door to focus on, “I’m not getting in the middle of this one.”

Miss Cathy shrugged and changed the subject.

“How is my cholesterol count?” She queried, showing no signs that she’d forgotten the other subject at hand, which was whether or not to add a statin to her daily medications (which total 12 pills at last count…..8 in the morning and 4 at night).

“All medications have side effects you know.”

Dr G opened up what is turning into a volume of notes worthy of a JK Rowling’s novel and after a careful review said, “Last time we checked it wasn’t that bad at 218, which isn’t too bad, but the LDL was 107 which is spectacularly good…so on second thought I’m going to say ‘No’ to the Lipitor.”

“Her protected cholesterol is really so good that I don’t want to do it.” He said to me.

“Yes”, Miss Cathy said, as if she was being vindicated that she was right all along (when actually she wasn’t right so much as just argumentative and stubborn).

Another day, another Doctor: Pt. IV

Posted in August by

Squeezed onto a faux banquette that must have been intended for a toddler, I tried my best to sit quietly in the corner and not listen to Miss Cathy and Dr G debate the merits and side effects of statins, focusing instead on my ‘happy place’ (which at the moment was anywhere but there).

As part of my (self assigned) duties as ‘caregiver’ I’ve trained myself to be as unobtrusive as a butler (or how I’ve perceived one to be), fading into the background after I’ve chauffeured her to the appointed destination but available if need be.

I do this so that Miss Cathy can feel free to have whatever exchange she wants with whomever she’s meeting with, without a care or thought as to what I may think (and believe me, this works just fine for someone as self righteous and self absorbed as she is….she could give ‘two hoots’ what I think or how she’s being perceived…..I’m just saying).

I will say though, it’s hard to listen to the same questions and answers over and over.

But, they are her doctors; her meetings and appointments so the focus should be on her, I’m just the ‘transporter’.

And this works out just fine for the most part; at least it does on the days when she’s lucid, heaven help us all on the “off Alz days”.

I try, let me emphasize the word ‘try’; meaning I make and attempt or effort to do something (like keep my mouth shut), so my objective is to ‘try’ not to interject during Miss Cathy’s exchanges unless she’s misspoken or given the wrong answer to a question (and I do not hesitate to jump in when her health is at stake).

It’s my (self assigned job) to give factual answers and to fill in the background for whatever the doctor may have asked, hopefully without any sarcasm or added editorializing on my part.

But, it’s not easy to sit idly by when (I know) she’s fudging the facts (insinuating that she’s exercising when she’s not or being faithful to whatever she’s been told to do) or being obstinate (which is usually any statement that starts with “I’m not” doing, taking, making, reading, eating, or ingesting).

That’s when I have to take the “Hoke” hat off and put my caregiver bonnet on before my chauffeured ‘busy bee’ can verbally run too far afield.

“Why don’t you just give it a try”, I interjected, exasperated by all the pointless back and forth.

“We’re here after all, if all you’re going to do is question and then end up doing what you want to do anyway we could have just stayed home!” (Yeah, I know…not very ‘faded into the background’ of me)

“Yeah, well…what do you know, you’re just a layman, too!” she said.

“You’re not going to be the one taking the medication.” (Touché!)

“I know”, I said (and she was right)

“But I am your caregiver and I’m with you 24/7 so I can see the benefit of what you do and don’t do…what you take and don’t take.”

“Yeah well…” was her response, her voice trailing off in defensiveness.

“Whether you believe it or not, we’re all on your side here, nobody is trying to make you take anything that’s going to be harmful to you.”

“That may be, but what do you know”, she sneered, unaffected by my attempt at a kumbaya moment.

“Besides, nobody lives forever, you might drop dead before me.”

“From your lips to God’s ear”, I said.

Water off a Duck’s Back: Pt. l

Posted in July by

At what point should a caregiver ‘give up caring’?

When should you abandon a course of action that (you know) will benefit your loved one but they simply don’t want to do? When should your hopes and dreams for their wellness take a back seat to their fear and inflexibility?

These questions (and more) seem to swim around in my brain more often these days.

When I moved here to take care of Miss Cathy one of our first battles concerned the amount of exercise she was (not) doing. I’d already waved the white flag of defeat over her doing any sort of strengthening or toning exercise and decided to focus on walking.

I tried cajoling her, offering to walk with her (which believe me was no easy offer to make considering that she wobbles along at a pace that a turtle could easily overtake).

And I told her that I would help her by maintaining some sort of schedule but after one or two short (I’m talking less than an eighth of a mile short) walks, she simply wouldn’t go outside with any regularity, no matter what sort of ‘schedule’ she’d committed to.

Whenever I reminded her or prodded her to ‘take her walk’ she would let out any number of reasons why she ‘couldn’t’ (not that she wouldn’t, it’s just that there was some impediment in her way); it was (either) too cold, too hot, too late, too rainy or she was just too tired (from what I have no idea when her day consisted of moving between sitting on the living room sofa and laying in bed).

She got more mileage out of here excuses than her walking shoes would ever accrue.

I quickly found out that if I pushed her too far she had no trouble exercising her tongue and telling me to ‘back off and where I could get off’.

Miss Cathy could and would curse me out (not often but with enough regularity to warrant my being very aware of how far to push).

And the language…..Wowsa!….. Miss Cathy can swear like a sailor during a perfect storm without a wit of regret or worry that her ‘sweet little old lady’ card would be taken away if the ‘Old people potty mouth police’ could hear the vulgarities coming out of her mouth.

“Like water off a duck’s back”, I’d mumble to myself, a phrase I learned much to late from Jinxx Monsoon, the recent winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race. She’d use the phrase like a healing chant (and invisible shield) whenever some insult was hurled her way by one of the vicious queens competing against her.