Maybe it’s Lori’s Chocolate Chip cookies (see yesterday’s post) doing their anti-depressant wonders.  Maybe it is having an almost normal (for us) night’s sleep.  Maybe it is reading yesterday’s post in the morning — late in the evening it is easy to become pensive and full of self-pity.  Maybe it is the dramatic contrast of all that we in our household have compared to the pain and suffering of tens of thousands in Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquake.  Maybe it is just getting tired of hearing myself whine.

Whatever it is, I need clarify for myself and any who follow this blog, that what I am feeling in regard to my change of circumstances from Senior Pastor of a large, thriving congregation to the full time primary Caregiver of my wife Mary Ann is just experiencing to the full the dynamics that come along with any major change in life.  There is a letting go of the past and settling in to a new set of present circumstances.

What I am experiencing in letting go of the past has nothing to do with the congregation from which I retired.  In fact, if anything, the wonderfully nurturing and loving people, the caring and competent Staff that actually served as my primary support group during the very toughest time trying to work full time and care for Mary Ann, the generosity of the Leadership of the congregation, the Volunteers (as many as 65 of them at one time) who stayed with Mary Ann all the time I was working away from the house (sometimes staying with her when I needed time to work at home), the Volunteers who have continued to stay with Mary Ann at times for a year and a half now since I retired from being their Pastor, the huge cadre of people there who threw the most fantastic party imaginable when I retired, all of that kindness just dramatizes the contrast between that part of my life and this part of my life.

Would it have been easier if they had all been mean and ugly to me?  I suppose in one sense it might have made me want to get out of there.  I have often reminded people who were hurting after the loss of a loved one, missing them so much, that their pain is a sign of the depth of their love for the one they have lost.  In that sense, I am grateful for every moment of gut-grieving.  It validates the value of the years of service in the church.  It reveals the depth of love for so many over the decades.  It is one way my gut reminds me that those years were good years.

Then, there is the truth of the matter.  No one asked me to retire.  There was plenty of reason as I struggled to do justice to the ministry and give Mary Ann the care she needed, for the leadership to say to me, “Don’t you think it is time for you to retire?” Instead, they said, “What can we do to help?”  I am the one who chose to retire.  It was without a shred of doubt exactly the right thing to do for me, for Mary Ann, for the Congregation and for the Lord who granted me an easy and certain decision-making process.

My struggles now are just the living out of that decision, the living through of the transition from one career to another, one identity to another.  What the whining in these posts reveals is the ugly underbelly of a very ordinary, flawed, self-absorbed, sinful (the Biblical word for such things) somebody going through that transition.  On the positive side of it, I am convinced that the journey will be completed more quickly and completely by allowing the ugliness to emerge without sugar-coating it — naming it for what it is.  That way it is less likely to sneak up later and cause some unpleasant and unexpected consequences — at least that is the hope.

I have always marveled at the enormous power and generosity of God to be able to and to choose to use people like me to actually do stuff to accomplish God’s goals on this clump of dirt on which we all live.  As those of us in the business know and will (hopefully) admit, most of what God does is not so much done through us as it is in spite of us.

Mind you the recognition of what I have been doing recently in these posts, and my own charge to “get over it” does not carry with it a promise that I will no longer whine and complain.  Why on earth do you think I am writing this blog!  It is so that I will have a place to whine and complain.  What I do hope and pray is that what I am experiencing and my reflections on it, the processing of the feelings will provide some bit of comfort to others who sometimes think they are going crazy, can’t go on any longer, are the only ones feeling that way, aren’t as good and nice as they should be, are failing to meet their own expectations.

What I hope is that other Caregivers who read this will understand that they have a harder job than anyone who hasn’ t done it realizes, that what they are doing has as much value as anything anyone has ever done no matter how important it might seem in the public forum, and that their lives have a depth of meaning they might never have found without the privilege of caring for another human being who needs them and whom they love deeply.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

It seems so unfair to complain about frustrations with someone who is suffering from such a terrible cluster of diseases, Parkinson’s Disease, Parkinson’s Disease Dementia, and heart disease on top of all that.  My aches and pains and various annoyances are tiny by comparison to Mary Ann’s challenges.

Someone in the Lewy Body Dementia Spouses online group replied to me this way [I am paraphrasing]:  You may not have the disease, but, as the primary Caregiver, you suffer from it too.

Those of you who know Mary Ann love her and respect her very much.  Those who know her best know that she has a chip on her shoulder that refuses to allow her to let anyone push her around.  It is one of the things that drew me to her and one of the things that drives me crazy!

With this complex and maddening combination of symptoms that come and go and come again, sometimes in minutes, dealing with the ordinary daily activities can be utterly frustrating.

Mary Ann can move from concluding something completely untrue and impossible in her less lucid moments, seeing things that simply are not there, to being completely clear in her thinking, remembering events more accurately than can I. One result of the times of dementia and lucidity being interwoven together, is that I am not sure whether to take seriously what she is saying or not.  I am not sure if she is confused about something, unaware of what she is really saying or doing, or she is willfully exercising pushback, proving again that she can do what she chooses no matter what effect it has on me.

Last night was a restless night.  No amount of begging her to stay settled in bed could keep her from getting up.  Again, there were multiple trips to the commode, even when there appeared to be little or no actual need to use it.  There were changes in the covers, shifts from facing one direction to facing another, need for a snack.  Then this morning she decided to get up at 6:45am to eat and take pills.  Normally, she sleeps until 8:30am or 9:30am.  I was up with her most of the first half of the night.  There is no point in my trying to get to bed and to sleep during her restless times.

After pills and breakfast she wanted to watch television.  Once she is up, I have to be there with her, awake and accessible to her since she gets up and walks, subjecting herself to the likelihood of a fall.  Her schedule determines mine.  She reluctantly agreed to lie back down in bed.  Gratefully, she slept for almost three hours, allowing me to do the same to try to make up for a very sleepless night.

The frustrations continued with our at least daily battle over what to eat.  There were available to her, chicken salad that I had made, fresh sliced smoked turkey and provolone cheese, some lasagna from the freezer, some roast beef and vegetables from the freezer, eggs, bacon, fresh strawberries, blueberries, cantaloupe. seedless white grapes.  I spent at least forty-five minutes trying to get a response on what she would eat.  She came out to the kitchen in her search for something else different from what I had offered.  I asked about the lasagna, which she had liked very much.  She said it wasn’t as good the second time.  That one pushed me to the edge.  I asked again about the smoked turkey.  She said no.  Then, after almost an hour of this, she mentioned salami.  We had gotten that when we got the turkey at the store. It was hard for me to accept that it took that long to find our way to something she was willing to eat.

My assessment of her goal was that we go out to eat.  Since we can’t afford to eat out every day, that goal is frustrating to me.  We had gone out the last three days.  To waste all that food in the refrigerator because it just didn’t measure up to the wants of the moment is an intolerable thought to me.

The rest of the day was spent watching reruns of the most depressing and demoralizing accounts of the criminal behavior presented in vivid detail in a marathon of one of the incarnations of the Law and Order Series.  Since the house is small and I need to be very accessible to Mary Ann, it was hard to avoid at least seeing portions of some of them.

We did manage to get out for a while (a very hot day) to get some ice cream.  Then there was church tonight.  We had some freshly made food brought over to the house by a parishioner and friend later in the afternoon.

In writing this post, I have risked diminishing Mary Ann by speaking so candidly about my frustrations.  She has reason enough to be frustrated with me at least as much as I am with her at times.  She does not have the luxury of writing out those frustrations for others to read.

As unfair as it is, this is one of the ways I process my frustrations so that I can maintain my equilibrium as I serve her needs all day every day — and night.  My hope is that by putting my frustrations into words here, I can be a better husband and Caregiver to her for as many years as we have left together.

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.

Who can we talk with about our predicament, who isn’t tired of hearing it or just doesn’t have any frame of reference to really understand what we are going through?  It is terribly easy to become isolated.  Since conversation isn’t an easy thing to accomplish when words for one are difficult to find, let alone get out where they can be heard, a longing to talk and listen and be understood. 

Last Thursday evening Mary Ann and I attended a monthly Parkinson’s Support group meeting in our area.  The group varies in size, but lately I would guess there have been thirty-five to forty-five of us in attendance. 

I remember the first support group we attended just a few years into Mary Ann’s diagnosis.  It was in another city — a large group with Parkinsonians at all levels of symptoms.  I can remember seeing one man in particular who was so dyskinetic that it was all he could do just to stay on the chair, arms and legs flying everywhere.  I suspected it would be so.  After that visit to a support group, it has been all but impossible to get Mary Ann to another one anywhere.  It just seemed scary to see the possibilities for her future right there before her eyes.  It was a denial shattering experience. 

Now that I am retired, we have started attending a local Support Group.  Mary Ann is now far enough along in the progression of the disease that there are few, if any, more debilitated than she is present at any given meeting.  Last Thursday was one of the times we separate into two groups, Caregivers and Carereceivers.  Those who attend the support group seem to especially appreciate the evenings we divide into the two groups. 

There is an agreement we make when we head into our respective rooms.  What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.   We are free to talk openly about our respective struggles without concern that what we say will be shared with anyone outside those gathered there.  That means, I will not share what was said, at least in specific terms, only in general terms. 

Both Mary Ann and I especially appreciated our respective group conversations last Thursday.   In the Caregiver group, we share our unique circumstances and our central problem.  We understand each other.  We help each other by sharing how we have dealt with challenges that are just coming over the horizon for others.  We pool our knowledge and each leaves with a new piece of information, a new possibility for dealing with whatever we are going through at the moment.  If nothing else, we have had a chance to vent for a moment with people who actually do understand what we are going through. 

It takes courage to break out of our isolation and open ourselves to people, most of whom we barely know.  When I was working full time, my circumstances allowed me to talk freeling with caring people with whom I worked.   When I retired, that outlet ceased.  That support group ended.  I realize now even better just how important it is to take seriously the need to connect regularly with people who are traveling the same landscape, who can support us in very concrete ways with information and insight. 

The Leader who facilitates our group on the evenings we divide into the two groups is the Caregiver Program Specialist for this Area’s Agency on Aging.  The website for our Area Agency is www.jhawkaaa.org. I suspect that in most other areas there are such programs available.  We discovered that help is available for some of the equipment that is needed to help with the mobility and safety of our Loved Ones. We discovered that there are programs that provide respite care so that Caregivers can have a break from hours to days, including overnight.  There is even some funding that allows that care to be given at little or no cost to folks who need the help, with no income guidelines restricting its use.  While there may or may not be funds in your area, it is important to look for support options.  We cannot do this for long by ourselves.  For our sake and the sake of our Loved One, seek support options. 

In our case, the combination of family, Volunteers, paid workers from private agencies, and County or Regional programs for the Aging combine to help us find a balance that raises our quality of life.  For those who have earned income and must use paid help to keep working, there is a tax credit available for dependent care. 

One piece in the support puzzle for me is an online group for the spouses of those who have Lewy Body Dementia.  Since Mary Ann has now been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease Dementia, the group has been a meaningful addition to my world of Caregiving.  That group is available at any time day or night.  They are as close as the keyboard on the computer.   Members of that group share completely openly, confident that others understand.  Someone in that group has been, is now, or will be experiencing their plight.  Members can cry on each other’s shoulder or laugh at the silliness we sometimes encounter.  Whatever the chronic disease that lives at your place, there is likely to be an online group to be found by searching for the name of the disease adding words like support or support groups.  I found this group through the Lewy Body Dementia Association site,  www.lbda.org.

Caregivers do not only give the hands-on care, we are charged with the task of seeking out and managing options for support that keep us and our Loved Ones safe and healthy.  When someone asks what he/she can do to help, suggest conducting a search of resources.  As Caregivers we are often overwhelmed with the steady stream of needs.  It is important for each of us to move out of our isolation and through our reticence to reach out to others for support. 

If you want to write a comment about this or any of the posts on this blog, look to the column on the right side of this page, titled “Recent Posts,”  click on the name of a post and you will find a box at the end of that article in which you can write a comment.  Clicking on the title of the post you are reading will accomplish the same thing.  Comments are appreciated.