A Caretaker's Request

This photo was taken at Christmas.  I don't see her smile as much or as often anymore.

I’m really spending a lot of time thinking about the aging process, and the joy/pain of being a caretaker for someone you love. This is probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.  It seems that all of life is a preparation for dying; it’s a constant “letting go”. And as a caretaker, part of “her” letting go affects my own letting go.

Caretakers have to make choices, and it seems none of them are “pretty”. In fact, observation tells me it can get downright humiliating at times. Family members and friends don’t always understand the choices that have to be made, and the gut wrenching, heart breaking “letting go” that comes with each choice.  And we often berate ourselves for the only choices we were able to make at the time.

My owner mother’s health has deteriorated so much in the last couple of months, and everything seems to be hitting harder and faster. Falls are happening much more frequently. Pain is the only constant, and humiliation waits for her around every corner as the things she dreaded most (having someone dress and wipe her) become her daily bread.  The hallucinations that come with a small percentage of folks who have macular degeneration are increasing, and she lives more and more daily in the movie theater of her mind.  But at least she still knows the hallucinations aren't real. For that I am grateful.

And I watch dear friends struggle with their own incapacitated loved ones, and they too are faced with decisions they wouldn’t wish on their own worst enemies.  Life’s ending can just be flat shitty sometimes. 

I just wanted to write to the general “whoever reads this”, and say, don’t be so quick to judge why caretakers make certain decisions they make. Don’t criticize what you can’t understand, and what we hope you never have to understand. And pray for us. There is so much potential in prayer.  At the end, when our own “Thy will be done” prayers get harder and harder to pray, your prayers for us are all we are left with.  We count on them.

And remind us often that we must find a balance between caring for our loved ones and caring for ourselves.  Our bodies wear out very quickly with all the stress that goes with the care. Our hearts become as heavy as our bodies, and our minds are constantly filled with whatever might come next.  It's very, very hard to stop long enough to take care of our minds, souls, and bodies, even to give ourselves a few minutes of self-care a day, but if we don't, our loved ones get nothing.

I’ve heard all my life that God never gives us more than we can bear.  I don’t think I believe that anymore.  I’ve witnessed too much too close.  But I am grateful that God is with us through it all.  And at the end of this thing, there is promised resurrection.