I got nothing to say. And I can't say it all at any given moment. Do I write about my dreams or my fears or my weight loss routine? How about what today looks like literally? Emotionally? Spiritually? I am not trying to be erudite, or even intriguing, or even provocative. Rather I am trying to convey the middle mush of my mind and the lower than suggested levels of energy that is the daily life I have chosen to lead.
I am so glad I did this. I am sorry for why I did this. This being our joining this household for the express purpose of providing informal caregiver services to this second set of parents and to help one of my oldest - and of course, dearest! - friends in this awful, wondrous journey of elder care.
I am glad because it is needed. How the hell do people who have children at home, are still in their full time careers or who have limited resources manage? The retirement income dad has secured for himself and the foresight to pay for long term health insurance for mom has made it possible for this family to go through this aging process relatively financially unchallenged. And as I write that I think of all the issues that are not addressed in our world. When do we move into assisted or nursing care? As opposed to my informal care giving? When is it okay to say I have reached my limits of service? Be clear, I am not talking about my limits of love or appreciation or familial service, but of care taking service. Thankfully, I am not there yet, but I can see that light at the end of the tunnel and it is a train and it is daylight.
I am sorry for making this decision because it means I was not able to be so involved in a successful business venture that I couldn't say yes to this family. How weird is that? That my availability to serve - and that of my husband - coincided with this need? The universe is funny that way. But I am still sad that we weren't in the midst of a thriving career that sparkled with all the trappings of success. It feels like we were destined to be here, I guess, which lessens the sadness at not being somewhere else.
I have dreams about owning my own home, perhaps on a little piece of land. Maybe in Minnesota, maybe not. I have dreams about traveling and writing and leaving a legacy. I have dreams about being significant enough that I am in a history book someday. And I have fears, too. That I won't have achieved any of these hopes and that it will matter that I didn't. I fear that I won't have achieved any of my hopes and that it won't have mattered that I didn't. I fear that I am wasting time and life and that sacrifice isn't really valued.
Weight loss is a funny thing, speaking of hope and fear. I know that I am need to lose weight. I fear that I am too late. Too late to stay clear of the influence weight, especially being overweight, has on memory, the aging process and general health. I hope I can find the balance between how I feel inside and what I look like outside, and that my health benefits. And yet, I refuse to compromise my daily life overly much for the sake of my hopes or fears. I struggle to find a balance between my efforts ( I am continuing with a weight loss plan) and actually enjoying activities that support my goals. I will not compromise on the art of living, the quality of living that I choose. So, I will find a way to add activities that enable my life to be full on good. Hmmm, that sounds great and feels good, too. Good.
So what does today look like? Busy, challenging, long and not long enough. We have already taken mom to the doctor to decide if she has a bladder infection or is just not remembering that she already used the toilet. Regardless, we find her in the bathroom with increasing frequency and, since we can't know for certain why, off to the doctor we went. Then when we came home with a "hat" to catch a urine sample to bring back to the doctor's office, she emptied it before we could go in and transfer the sample to the cup. Argh. So that is on the list to do - to go with her on one of her trips to the loo and monitor the process to secure the sample. And I am an informal caregiver because, 1) I am not a trained medical person and 2) I am not at all interested or comfortable with other people's bodily functions. Challenging, to say the least. (But, I remind myself, that is not the point. The point is that those that love and care about mom and dad are here to be part of their aging. Part of their last times together before they must be in a full care facility. And that is more important than anything else today. Being there for each other, all five of us.)
Today also includes mom and me going to the grocery store because Star and dad are off to the pain clinic to see about his hip (I think it is his hip. With the Parkinson's, it could be his back, but I think, hip.). Star has already spent most of the middle of the day taking dad to oxygen treatments designed to help heal his bladder from the effects radiation had on him when he went through his colon cancer treatments.
What else? Oh, Star gets to take the evening off, so I will make dinner and then play cards (if my husband is able to join us) or watch a movies with the folks. I am hoping movie, but cards have their charm, too. I'll have to blog about cards with the aging process. It is a blog unto itself.
I have left out all the little bits, like making the shopping list, a quick trip to get some artisan chocolate that left us running a bit late to get to the doctor's on time. Or the time it took to solve the problem of a dining chair cushion that "didn't feel right." All very real issues in our lives and yet so simple on paper.
Emotionally and spiritually? Well, I guess the simplest way to talk about it is to stop here because I got to get mom and grocery shop. Never enough time to address these all the way to satisfaction. But, as we do everyday, we will deal with them. Actually, that is our best trait, habit, agreement and effort - that Star, her folks, my guy and I all try everyday to meet our needs. Why? Because it would be a disaster if we didn't - and more to the point, we wouldn't be us if we let go of what matters just because it gets hard.
I am mildly ready to quit this musing. But, the clocks ticks.
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