April 15, 2009

Caregivers Feel Powerless

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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We made it!!!  Last evening we returned from Kentucky traveling 10.5 hours — under overcast skies dropping periodic showers on us as we traveled — all 10.5 hours.  Then, two miles from our home, the sun broke through.   Traveling can be wonderful, thrilling, entertaining, full of comfort with family that is loved very much, and still, coming home feels good. 

Then there was the mail to be opened.  Two pieces of mail in particular dampened my enthusiasm to be home more than the showers had dampened our travel that day.   Both were Caregiver irritants.  The first was another in the seemingly endless array of medical insurance claims denied because someone had a wrong code or a wrong insurance ID number or hadn’t communicated information in the left hand to the right hand or because this Caregiver didn’t get the right information to the right person at the right time.

The second piece of mail that dampened my spirits was what appeared to be a summons for Mary Ann to serve on a jury.  The form to be filled out looked as if someone had printed some sort of printer test page with bar codes and fonts both tiny and bold. 

Now, I am a reasonably intelligent person.  I graduated eighth out of three hundred twenty-five in my high school class.  I tied one other student with the highest numbers on my college entrance exams.  I got a 31 composite score on my ACT and a 34 (out of 36) on the quantitative portion of the test.  I spent eight years in college and seminary, learning to read Hebrew, Greek, Latin and German.  I went back to school and got a Doctor of Ministry degree after ten years of working.  Why am I so intimidated by health insurance forms and jury summons and keeping track of pills in their little plastic holders and making sure that prescriptions are obtained or renewed before the pills run out. 

Why is it that little things seem to have so much power to ruffle my feathers.  So the person who got my order for two pieces of white meat sent me home with a thigh and a wing instead of a breast and a wing.  I actually called and complained (got a free meal out of it).  Things that are of no account in the grand scheme of the universe seem so huge and frustrating.  I have dealt with tough issues hundreds of times over the years, helped families through major crises, worked through substantial budgets, been through crises myself more than once.  Why should I now be undone by chocolate squished in Mary Ann’s hands and on clothes that can easily be Spray and Washed. 

Whether it is verifiable scientifically or not, I am convinced that people have just so much coping capability.   As Caregivers, we live in a chaotic world in which things can change in moments.  We have absolutely nothing to say about what happens to us.  We can do everything it makes sense to do so that there will be a certain outcome.  We actually have no say in what outcome results.  Every time something happens that throws that truth in our face, every time events take an unforseen turn, we are forced to use up some of our coping skills. 

Any of us who have been caring for a Loved One for some time understands that we have pretty much nothing to say about what happens.  Parkinson’s in particular is unpredictable in how it will present itself and how it will proceed.  Lewy Body Dementia is especially insidious in that dramatic changes can take place for the better or for the worse (mostly the worse) at any time, at any pace.  Other diseases have different patterns but no less power to use up a Caregiver’s coping ability. 

So, what can we do in the face of the harsh reality that we are out of control, we are completely powerless to order our world?  We live in total chaos. 

If it is little things that can now undo us, since we have used up all our coping ability on the big things, how about trying to beat this powerlessness at its own game?  If little things can undo us, why not use little things to create some semblance of order in our lives?  Why not create little pockets of control in our lives to suggest to our insides that we actually can survive the chaos — we can refuse to give it the power to unravel us completely.

Here is how I fight the chaos, the feelings of powerlessness.  This will sound stupid and silly, but it helps me survive.  I clean the commode every morning.  I make the beds and fold the corners so that they will not trip Mary Ann when she walks around the foot of the bed.  I fold the chuk that was under the commode, move the clean commode to the foot of my bed.  I roll the lift from the living room where it spends the night into the bedroom to the foot of my bed.  I get Mary Ann’s pills which, every Saturday, I put in the little compartments in which they always go.  I set the pill timers.  I change Mary Ann’s night time pad (like Depends) for a day time pad (each holds a different quantity of liquid).  I get her dressed, velcro shoes for when we are out, making bathroom changes of pads go more quickly.  And so it goes. 

If we can’t control the big things, we can control some things.  When people came in struggling with mild depression (I referred those in deep depression), one suggestion I made was to make a list of just two or three simple things that they could easily do, tiny things.  I suggested making the list and checking off those silly little items when they were done.  Depression seems to come when we have the sensation that we are powerless to do anything about our situation.  My goal was to help them re-train their thinking, their gut, so that some small sense of control returned.

Most people who talked with me about problems that were overwhelming them heard the same suggestion.  Make a list of all the pieces of the problem that seems so overwhelming — usually there were multiple problems converging.  Then take the list and divide it into two lists. In one column, put the things you don’t have the power to control or change.  In the other column list the things that you can actually affect in some way.   The first list for those whose view of reality gives this weight, is the prayer list.  For those who don’t find that a meaningful option, it is the list of things to take off your plate of things to do.  Any energy spent on them is wasted.  If you had the power to change them you would have long ago.  Let them go! 

The second list is the “to do” list.  Take all the time and energy that has been wasted on things over which you have no control, get off your butt and do one of the things on the second list.  If it is too big to do, do something, anything, any part of the thing that is too big. 

Yes, I am a list maker.  Yes, I have put something on the list after I did it so that I could check it off.  Do whatever works for you to help you find some level of control in the face of things over which you have no control. 

Caregivers feel powerless because we are powerless — but not completely powerless.  Our job is to figure out what we can and can’t do, then do what we can and let go of what we can’t.  What is surpising to me is how often it turns out that the little things I could actually do did make a difference — more difference than I thought possible.  

 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.

 

April 9, 2009

Caregiver’s Loneliness

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Relationship Issues, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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A comment on a post I wrote a couple of nights ago raised an issue that is significant for many Caregivers who are doing full time caregiving all day long every day.  The writer mentioned that she often uses the time after her Loved One goes to bed to try communicate with others, since the opportunity for adult conversation is limited.

For many of us conversation that was a routine part of our daily lives with our Loved One and with others has pretty much ceased.  Especially those caring for someone with a form of Dementia find it tough to converse meaningfully.  A number of recent emails from others who are caring for spouses with Dementia have included reflections on the challenge of dealing with the lack of meaningful conversation and the loneliness that sometimes settles in.

Until I retired a number of months ago, I was active in a profession that involved lots of meetings, visiting with people, counseling folks struggling with problems, speaking in front of groups, and many hours each day communicating electronically (email).  All of that came to a halt pretty much the day I retired.  Emails ceased, phone calls stopped, meetings ended, there were no more visits to be made, no more speaking in front of groups.

Now there is one person stuck with me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, someone who has never really been a talker and now after twenty-two years of Parkinson’s has taken its toll finds great difficulty getting thoughts into words and sustaining conversation.  She has struggled with the challenge of having me there constantly, so I can hardly complain.  She tired long ago of listening to my voice as it drones on and on.

One comment in an email I read tonight provided an image of the Caregiver in need of communication.  She mentioned that when she was at the dentist getting her teeth cleaned, every time the Hygienist took her hands out of her mouth she started talking immediately, not stopping until the instruments were back in her mouth.

I find myself starting conversations in with strangers in line at the store, or making conversation with the person at the register. Anyone who dares cross our threshold is likely to be fully engaged in conversation by the time their second foot has landed inside.

Anyone who reads this blog has certainly noticed the length of the posts.  When I write I imagine that there are people actually reading this with whom I am having conversation.

Living in a world of silence other than the sound of the television, can certainly produce a deep sense of loneliness.  I suspect there are lonely Caregivers by the tens of thousands out there.  It seems to me very likely that lots of them, probably a majority, are not computer users who have the option of going online and relating to others regularly. If the Caregivers are lonely, imagine how lonely and bored those who need the care must be.

There are no simple solutions to the loneliness and isolation, the boredom and lack of conversation that comes with the Caregiver and Carereceiver territory.  For me the battle with loneliness starts with developing a rich inner life that experiences each moment fully and fills my thoughts with wonderful images from my environment, from reading, from the lives of others I have encountered, from my own story, from a head filled with unfinished business, from intellectual and spiritual curiousity.

While I have never been a writer, the exercise of writing these posts is safisfying and fulfilling.  Reading emails and occasionally responding to those who are caring for spouses with Lewy Body Dementia is engaging.  When Volunteers come to stay with Mary Ann to give her a break from my constant presence, it takes me a long time to get out the door as I engage them in conversation.  I find myself on the phone with brothers and sisters more often than ever before in my life.  Trips to the coffee shop to get a cup of coffee take a little longer. When we attend the Parkinson’s Support Group meetings, I am not shy in speaking up.

Since I am not good at all at small talk, I know very little about sports and I am completely uninterested in debating politics, conversation just for the sake of talking is not all that satisfying.  I suppose I can talk about the weather with the best.  I do have a genuine interest in people’s stories, so given the opportunity, I will find out what you do and what you like and dislike about it, where you have lived, what challenges you have faced and how you are coping with them.  The problem when homebound by the Caregiving task, or the chronic illness, is that the opportunities for such meaningful conversations are limited.

While it helps, electronic communication is not fully satisfying to me since I thrive on the non-verbal elements of communication as well as the actual words themselves. Getting out of the house with the one for whom you are caring is worth the effort.  Go anywhere.  Do anything.  Put yourselves out there where the chance for human interaction and verbal interchange is possible.

Every job has its good points and its bad points.  The trick is to “accentuate the positive and eliminate the negative” as the lyrics to an old song say.  Celebrate what is good that the Caregiving experience brings into your life.  Refuse to give the negative more power than it is due in ruling, in defining your life. I know that is far easier said than done.

Caregiver loneliness — Are you?  What are you doing about it?  What works for you?

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.

 

April 5, 2009

Caregiver Options for Support

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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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.

 

March 30, 2009

Caregiver Self-care: Retreat

Posted by PeterT under Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping, Therapeutic Activities | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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Tonight I am anticipating a three day retreat from Caregiving.  It will begin as soon as the car is loaded and on the road in the morning.  I will travel between five and six hours on the Interstate to get to a place that has provided respite and renewal to me off and on for almost twenty years.  

I will tell you some of things I look for in a Retreat, some of the things I do, but what is more important is for each of you who serves as a Caregiver to find a place that renews your spirit.   What provides you with respite and renewal is likely to be much different from what does it for me.

The place I will go is called St. Francis of the Woods Spiritual Renewal Center.  To go there requires no particular Spirituality.   There I will find complete solitude.  The cottages are very comfortable and very few.  That there are very few cottages is the reason for my expectation of solitude.  There will be no agenda to follow, no meal times to honor.  It will be in complete contrast to the Caregiving Role that is done entirely in response to someone else’s needs. 

There is a beautiful, ornate, Orthodox chapel there for those who appreciate that environment.  There is a library filled with books intended for those seeking renewal.  St. Francis includes a five hundred acre working farm.  There are pastures and woods, a chicken house filled with clucking hens and crowing roosters.  Fresh eggs can be purchased — the honor system – get a dozen from the fridge and leave the money in the basket.  There are paths carved out in the woods, with the occasional bench.  There are areas with no paths, filled with wildlife to be surprised as you come into sight.  There is a small remote field a decent hike’s distance across a trickle of a creek, maybe a mile and a half’s walk away from any of the cottages.  It is surrounded by woods with only one path for a tractor to reach it for any planting or cutting of hay.  That is the spot that touches my spirit and renews me. 

The drive there is a vital part of the experience.  The music CD’s are carefully chosen to help me transition from activities and attitudes that fill my days at home (and at work when I was still working full time).  That time allows me to be prepared for the hoped for renewal time on the Retreat.   The return trip is often a powerful time, since, with an uncluttered and rested mind, solutions to problems often emerge, decisions can be made with clarity.  For me,  a two night stay with travel there on the first day and travel back on the third day is the most effective pattern for renewal.

On the Retreat itself I will carry with me a couple of books that provide me with the spiritual tools I need to stay grounded and grow in learning how to quiet myself so that I am receptive to renewal.  I will bring a couple of books on Quantum Physics, since, while I know very little and struggle to understand them, I find them to enlarge my perspective in a way that excites my spirit.   I will take with me some good binoculars and a spotting scope given to me by my Son.  I will engage to the fullest extent my senses will allow, every dimension of that holy space. 

I will do some journaling periodically as I sit on the three legged stool that I strap to my backpack, or one of the benches if it happens to be in the right place at the right time.  The journaling tends to take me to a place of perspective on my life’s journey.  When I am on retreat, I have a chance to move out of reactive mode.   I can rediscover my center of being as a single individual in a magnificently huge universe.  I can look from a distance at my relationship with Mary Ann, with the caregiving that is a part of our relationship.  Without fail, my love and commitment to her has been renewed on those retreats, the spiritual strength that sustains me has been renewed and enlarged. 

Self-care is not simply an optional task among the many that come with life’s challenges, especially for those charged with the care of another human being.  Self-care is what allows the possibility of being of any use to anyone else, especially the One for whom you care. 

I suspect the question that first comes to mind for many Caregivers is how on earth it is possible to find time to go on a retreat.  Who will care for my Loved One while I am gone?   How will I afford it?  It will only happen if you accept that your self-care has priority.  If something is needed badly enough, we find a way to do it.  We need to eat.   We find a way to do it. 

I went on these retreats when I was working full time and caring for Mary Ann full time when not away from the house at work.  There were some Volunteers who developed the confidence to be a part of the crew who stayed with her when I was gone.  Our daughter and her family chose to move to town to help us out for a couple of years.  During that time, she took one or both of the nights I was gone.  My daughter and her family have driven ten hours to visit this week, encouraging me to take this three day Retreat during part of their stay.

There  are some local organizations that for a charge (one charges $150) will come overnight for a twelve hour shift.  There is a local facility that will provide residential care for an overnight, again, for a charge.  When I began going to St. Francis, the suggested donation was $6.00 per night.  Now it is up to almost half the cost of a night in a motel — a bargain to say the least. 

Your task is to determine what it is that would allow you to disengage for a time from the stream of demands coming your way, what activity would be renewing to you.  It is not impossible to do.  It may is terribly difficult, but it will never happen unless  you decide it needs to happen, it is worth doing.  Do it once or twice and you will understand why it needs to happen.  Take each obstacle to doing whatever renewal activity would be meaningful one at a time.  Do not allow one of the obstacles to sabotage the whole idea.  Reframe the nature of the retreat if need be.  That may mean finding a B&B an hour away instead, or a friend’s vacation home, or the farm still owned by a family member. 

Self-care is not one option among many for a Caregiver.  It is precisely what is needed to do the very task you are called to do.  Love the One for whom you are caring enough to take care of yourself.

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.

 

March 29, 2009

Caregivers’, Carereceivers’, Volunteers’ Safety Issues

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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I got the dreaded phone call.  I was at work, Mary Ann was at home with a wonderful, capable Volunteer who had agreed to stay with her for a three hour shift.  Some days there were as many as five different people to cover all the time I was at work, which often included evening meetings.   Mary Ann had fallen in the bathroom and hit her head on the ceramic tile floor. 

Understand, Mary Ann is not the sort to just sit still and wait for someone to tell her when she can get up.  Her independence (a euphemism for stubbornness) has carried her through challenges any one of which would have taken a person with less strength of will.  Mary Ann got up to use the bathroom — a simple and necessary task.   Parkinson’s or not, Mary Ann can move like lightning.  She moves with a determination that says, don’t mess with me, I can do this.

Either before or after the task at hand, as she stood, Orthostatic Hypotension entered the story.  That is one of the many things we have come to know about.  We now know more than we ever had any interest in learning.  I could have gone to my grave without ever knowing what Orthostatic Hypotension is, and would have been content and fulfilled.  When anyone of us stands up, our blood pressure drops.  In an instant our blood vessels constrict to raise our blood pressure so that, among other things, our brain has enough blood to function fully.  OH is what happens when people who have a compromised autonomic response (in her case, medicine and disease process) stand up and the resulting blood pressure change is not corrected.  The person faints.  The doctors call it Syncope.  Somehow knowing the medical jargon makes me feel better able to deal with the multiple medical professionals on our team.  They may very well think it sounds silly, since I am sure I don’t always use the terms correctly. 

Here is the important part of this story.  Mary Ann fell on that hard floor, smashed her glasses into her face producing a bloody nose that would not quit.  What appeared worse than that was the giant hematoma on her forehead.  Because of the blood thinning character of Plavix, which she takes to help prevent another stroke, her forehead filled with enough blood to bring the protruding bump to the size of a softball. 

When I arrived home, she was still on the floor with her face down, blocking our veiw of the hematoma.  It became obvious as soon as I got her up off the floor that we needed to get to the Emergency Room.   

How can we keep our Loved One safe if we use Volunteers? 

First of all, we can’t!  We cannot keep our Loved One completely safe whether we use Volunteers, or paid Professionals, or never leave her/him alone.  Either we come to terms with that reality or go completely nuts, becoming useless to our Loved One and ourselves. 

With that said, we do have an obligation to use whatever means are at our disposal to create as safe an environment as possible.   This is not just about the safety of our Loved One.  What can we do to keep ourselves and the Volunteers safe?  If we hurt ourselves trying to help our Loved One we will cease to be able to give the care that is needed.  If a Volunteer hurts him or herself, we will feel responsible for our part in letting them be hurt, their lives will be disrupted, they will not be able to help your Loved One, and someone will be liable for any costs associated with their care. 

Are you scared yet?  Have you just phoned all the Volunteers and told them to stay home?  While we cannot guarantee no one will be hurt, we can make responsible decisions on what to do to minimize the likelihood of someone being hurt and at the same time prepare for that contingency. 

What follows are just a few of the things we have done over the years to address safety issues:

Mary Ann wears a gait belt at all times — something she hates.  A gait belt is just what is sounds like, a belt that is a help when she is walking.  I walk beside her (when I can get there fast enough) and put my hand lightly on the back of the belt.  Because it is at her waist, high enough in relation to her center of gravity, if she begins to get out of balance, it takes very little pressure to pull her back from going over.  We found a non-profit that makes them in a variety of colors, www.gaitbelt.com.  Gratefully, they are also very inexpensive.

After Mary Ann’s fall in the bathroom we began by putting down on the floor mats for children’s play areas. We now use them in the garage  to cover the area she is in when she goes out the door into the garage to get in the car.  We got ours at Sam’s Club, but here is an online link showing the floor covering:  http://www.matsmatsmats.com/kids/playroom-floor/soft-floor.html  We found a shower mesh floor that avoids the problem of mold due to moisture trapped under the mat, it resists mold.  It can be found at http://www.duragrid.com/shower.html  That is what now helps protects Mary Ann from hurting herself badly if she falls to the floor in the bathroom.  It looks good and is easy to install and remove for periodic cleaning.

We found that some of those people who served as Physical, Occupational and Speech therapists were willing to give their time to come to a gathering of Volunteers to demonstrate how to help Mary Ann without hurting her or them.  Once in one of those training sessions Mary Ann got on the floor and the therapist showed how best to help her up.  They were willing to demonstrate simple activities that could be done with Mary Ann to provide appropriate mental and physical stimulation.   

We put together a booklet filled with all sorts of information.  It includes contact numbers, whom to call for help getting her up if she falls, what hospital we use, directions to the house that may be given to the Emergency folks if 911 must be called.  The booklet is to go with her to the hospital, so it includes the names of Mary Ann’s doctors, a current list of medications, her Living Will.

It also includes a description of what to do when Mary Ann gets up to walk, what to do and not do when she begins to fall, what help she needs with personal tasks.  It lists things that are normal for Mary Ann but might concern a Volunteer, dyskinetic (involuntary) movements, dizziness, confusion. 

We talk through with new Volunteers what to expect.  We assure them that we understand that none of us can control what happens, to help relieve them of concern that they will be held responsible if she falls and hurts herself.

Finally, we have obtained an umbrella insurance policy to help provide for the contingency that someone might be hurt trying to help Mary Ann.  With so many people in and out of the house, there is a vulnerability that comes. 

After the fall, we took Mary Ann to the Emergency Room.  Even though she had fallen flat on her face on a ceramic tile floor from (apparently) a standing up position, she broke nothing, not even her nose.  It took hours each of two days to get the nosebleed to stop.  When the packing came out a few days later, to our surprise, it did not start bleeding again.  She did not have a skull fracture but was pretty confused for a few days.  We did need to get a new pair of glasses.  Mary Ann seems to be made of iron.  She has fallen multiple times, sometimes more than once in a day, but has broken no bones. 

Safety is an issue whether there are Volunteers or not.  Our job as Caregivers is to do what we can to create as safe an environment as is reasonable given the place in which we live, the resources we have and our Loved One’s need for some independence.  Having done that, it is time to let go of the constant terror we could choose to embrace.  Life is too short to waste living in fear.  Live safely, but live. 

What are some things you do to make your Loved One as safe as possible?  Do you use Volunteers?  Where do you find them?  How do you prepare them?  How is it going?

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.

 

March 28, 2009

Caregiver, What can I do to Help?

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Help from Others, Meaningful Caregiving, Practical Tools for Coping | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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I have heard it hundreds of times when listening to folks who want to help when someone’s spouse has died, “Call me if you need anything.”   I have said it.  Sometimes it is said because the person offering just doesn’t know what to do to help. They probably already have brought food to the house. Sometimes it is said because the person saying it knows there will be a time later when the first wave of attention has subsided that the needs will come. Sometimes it is said just to have something to say, and the one saying it has no expectation that he/she will be called.

My experience has been that people do want to help when there has been a death or when chronic illness has entered the life of a friend. First of all, people genuinely don’t know what to do. They don’t know what to offer to do and when to offer it. They really do want you to call and ask.

There are some problems with the offer and even the intention.  First of all, you may not know what to suggest, what you need.  You may have very little idea what would be helpful to you, until whatever it is actually becomes an identifiable problem.  It is hard to know what people are actually willing and able to do.  It is hard to know when to ask them.  When will they have time to do what you have finally discovered would be helpful? 

Assuming you have decided what you need done, how do you muster the courage to make the phone call?   If you make the call and ask, what if they really don’t want to do it, or need not to do it, but they say yes because they don’t want to hurt your feelings?  What if they say no, for whatever reason?  Do you dare call them again?  They will tell you to call again, but how long should you wait?  You certainly don’t want to hear a “no” again.  It doesn’t take too many times calling for help before you begin to feel as if you are begging, manipulating, wearing out your welcome.  The last thing you want is for your friends to begin to dread your calls. 

Then, of course, you should be able to handle it all.  You are a capable person.  Why should you ask someone else to do something  you are perfectly able to do?  If you ask people to help you will feel obligated to them.  You will owe them something in return.  You have enough to do just taking care of your Loved One, the house (inside and outside), the car, your job, making meals, doing wash — the list is endless.  How will you have time to return the favor or at least adequately thank the person, compensating them with the efforts you put into those thanks?

Let’s begin with the reason for letting people help.  The truth is, the real truth, people need to help other people.  We are wired to live in community.  That means people need to help each other in some way.  Whether you understand humans to be intentionally created by a Someone, or the product of accidents of a natural process, our DNA leads us to work together.  That is how we have come to accomplish so much as a species.  To be truly human, we need to do part of a larger task so that we all can survive.  People need to help.  How can they help if no one is willing to let them??  To allow someone to help you is to allow them to grow and flourish and find joy and meaning and satisfaction as the truly human beings they are constructed to be.  Your need opens possibilities in the lives of others, your friends.  Care enough about them to let them help. 

That sounds reasonable (at least to me).  The question is, how do we ask, given all the reasons not to call?  In our years of dealing with Parkinson’s and finally coming to the point of simply not being able to do this on our own, we have come upon a way to ask for help, a way that avoids almost all of the disincentives to calling people for help. 

It started this way.  One winter, during one of the dramatic downward plunges on our roller coaster ride, Mary Ann could no longer be left alone.  I was working more than sixty hours a week at a terribly demanding job (technically I was on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week – seldom but sometimes called out during the night).  I was too young to retire and survive financially.  We couldn’t afford the fifteen to twenty dollars an hour for paid caregivers.  Multiply that amount by sixty hours per week and see what it would have cost. 

I was serving as the Pastor of a large and active congregation.  Our Parish Nurse immediately got on the phone and called some people for us, asking if they would stay with Mary Ann.  They did!!!  Margaret phoned. They could say yes or no to her with no concern for hurting our feelings.  They could decide for themselves if that was something they had the time and interest in doing.  When finally Margaret could no longer serve all the other folks in need in the congregation and make all those contacts, Carol took over.  She seemed to enjoy making the calls and talking with people and making such a difference in our lives — and serving the congregation in an important way.

There were over sixty-five Volunteers at one time in these last seven or eight years.  When Carol’s health made it impossible for her to continue that full time task, it was the time that our Daughter, Lisa, and her family moved here to help us out.  Many Volunteers were still needed. Mary and Edie were added to the coordinators doing the calling.  To this day I have no idea how Carol managed that task by heself all those years. 

Here is where technology entered the picture.  Under Helpful Caregiving Resources on the right side of the page of this screen there is a website that has made the impossible possible.  It is www.lotsahelpinghands.com.  It is a free website that allows coordinator(s) to schedule people to fill needs of all sorts.  We have used it to schedule Volunteers to stay with Mary Ann, people to give rides, provide food.  Any tasks can be scheduled.  The site sends out Email reminders periodically up to the day before the person’s scheduled task.  For those who do not do the computer, the coordinator makes phone contacts and enters the information.  People can go online and schedule themselves in a slot that has not been filled.   Check it out.  It is a powerful, very well constructed site, and it is free!!

What can people do to help?  Someone who wants to do something from home can do the phoning and scheduling.  Some people are willing to help by driving your Loved One to or from something when you are not available to do so.  If you need a second set of hands for that trip in the car, someone may be willing to help.  We have some folks on a list who will come immediately if they are available when Mary Ann has fallen and the Volunteer with her is not able to get her up.   There are people who will stay overnight with her if I need a night’s rest.  There are people who have come and picked up clothes to iron for us.  There are folks willing to shop or run errands for us if we can’t get out.  Of course there are many who are happy to bring some food over.   Develop a list of ways people can help.  Maybe you could do it all — but I doubt it — not for long.  Ultimately, insisting on doing it all by yourself will remove your ability to do any of the Caregiving. 

Caregiver, “What can I do to help?”  Have an answer ready, many answers.  Have a way for them to help by doing what they are able to do,  what they want to do, when they can do it.  You are only human.  You cannot do it all.  They need the opportunity to help, not just to be only human but to be truly human. 

Think about it.  What help do you need?  What can people do to make a difference for good in your life?

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.

 

March 26, 2009

Caregivers: Your Medical Degree is in the Mail!

Posted by PeterT under Meaningful Caregiving | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |
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Mary Ann and I both had appointments with the Cardiologist today.  We knew him as a parishioner before he became our Cardiologist.  We like him very much.  He is good.  Very good.  We are grateful that he is good since Mary Ann has so many problems associated with her heart and its functioning.  He is an important member of the team.  It is a team.  The team includes the Cardiologist, the Parkinson’s Clinic Neurologist, the local General Neurologist, the Gastroenterologist, the Primary Care Physician (General Practitioner),  the Nephrologist, the Ear, Nose and Throat specialist, the Dermatologist (who has removed her four Basal Cell skin Cancers), the Endocrinologist, her Physical Therapist, Speech Therapist, Occupational Therapist, Clinical Psychologist, two or three hospitalists, along with numerous medical technicians and nurses of all sorts, some seen only once, some who are practically like family.  We have great medical care.

Each of these people is very good at what he/she does.  Each has specialized in a certain body system or body part.   The Primary Care Physician has the largest chart for Mary Ann, but there is no way he can keep up with all the tests and treatments and medications with so many different people making independent decisions about what to do to treat the problem in their area of expertise.

Here is the obvious problem in this marvelous Team effort.  Mary Ann is actually a single living being who is not simply a gathering of independent systems and body parts.  She is a whole somebody.   Every system is connected to every other system, making up a single functioning human someone. 

Any of you who has been a primary Caregiver for a Loved One with Parkinson’s or any other chronic illness understands very well nature of the your role as a Volunteer Medical professional.  All those people listed above know more than I do about their area of specialty.  I know Mary Ann better than any of them.  I pick her up when she faints or loses her balance.  I know when those problems come in relationship to how much medicine she has taken and when.  I have discovered that when the recommended treatment for her heart is put in place, her Parkinson’s is unmanagable.  I know that when she has some major intestinal activity there is likely to be some fainting and maybe a time of mental confusion.  I know that if there will be a test done that demands her lying still, we need to skip the dose of her main Parkinson’s Med (brand name Sinamet) or the test will almost be impossible to accomplish, because of the dyskinetic movement that is now a side effect of that medication.  I know about how long we have to get from one place to another before she is likely to faint.  

One of the somewhat unique characteristics of Parkinson’s is that there is not much that is consistent and predictable. Medicine may work or may not work on a given day or at a given dosing time.  She may be able to walk long distances without fainting or faint sitting in a chair or immediately on getting up.  She may be up a dozen times on the commode during the night, or just a couple of times.  She may be wobbly or steady, sleepy or restless.  Even the best specialist in the field knows that one regimen of meds may work for one person but not another. 

Your Medical Degree is in the Mail!  You as the Caregiver actually serve as the Primary Care Medical Practitioner.  You need to know what medicine is being given for what symptom(s) and what impact it will have on the others.  The clearest example of the problem of competing treatments came for us when the treatment for Mary Ann’s Congestive Heart Failure and Cardiac Heart Disease stood in direct opposition to the treatment for her Parkinson’s.  The diuretics and low salt diet lowered her blood pressure.   The Parkinson’s meds lowered her blood pressure also, and the progression of the Parkinson’s compromised her body’s ability to adjust quickly enough to keep blood pressure high enough to stand up and remain conscious. 

Let me put it this way.  One doctor said, no pizza and Pepsi, the other one said, yes, pizza and Pepsi.  One treatment was to keep from retaining fluids, making the heart work harder, the other treatment was to keep enough fluids in her body to keep her blood pressure from dropping suddenly.  At one point I inferred from what the Cardiologist that the side effects (the dyskinetic movements) of her main Parkinson’s meds was threatening her heart’s health.  We stopped the Parkinson’s Meds and she turned to stone. 

Caregivers are advocates for the quality of life of their chronically ill partner.  In our case, the doctors we regularly use now understand the narrow margin of functionality within which we live. 

I wonder how many of you who are primary Caregivers have taken your Loved One to the doctor, only to be ignored by the staff and maybe even the doctor, treated as an annoyance who should keep your questions to yourself.  I do not have enough fingers and toes to count the times, either in doctor’ offices or hospital rooms that I needed to explain to the medical staff some of the very basic dimensions of Parkinson’s, the way meds should be given and what the side effects will be. 

Caregivers are the Primary Medical Technicians for their Loved Ones.  Don’t get angry about it, just do it.  Learn everything you can about the disease.  Go to workshops and support groups, whether face to face or online.  Write down the questions and demand answers in terms that you can understand.  Ask what every medicine is supposed to do, what its side effects are and how it will impact other problems and the medicines being taken for them.  Advocate for the best quality of life you can obtain, even if you run into some attitude along the way. 

Like it or not,  you are the Team Leader.  No,  you are not a doctor, you do not have the breadth of knowledge and training, but you know your Loved One better than anyone else.  You are an expert on his or her disease and its impact on your lives.  You see the whole person, not just the separate systems and body parts. 

Our experience has been that any time we have encountered a medical professional who is good, very good, who knows the area well, he/she has always been open and inclusive, listened well and explained well.  Seek them out.  They will help you find the best quality possible for and your Loved One in your time together, however long that may be.

If you have a story to tell from your experiences with medical professionals, tell that story here.  It might help someone who happens to find her/his way to this site.

By the way, today’s news from the Cardiologist was good news.   There has been no measurable deterioration, nothing new in the last six months.   For the moment, we get to keep our current normal.  We can live with that!

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.  Comments are appreciated.

 

March 16, 2009

Caregivers in Waste Management

Posted by PeterT under Daily Challenges, Practical Tools for Coping | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , |
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In the Caregiving business, it becomes evident very quickly, that our lives (all of us for that matter) revolve around activities of our alimentary canal — input and output.  It is how we survive.  There is input that brings with it the raw material from which is mined fuel for burning in cells of one sort or another so that we can simply stay alive — be who we are, do whatever it is we do.  Then there is what is left after the fuel has been mined.  In Picher, Oklahoma, there are toxic Chat Piles, a Superfund site destined for cleanup.  The output must be dealt with.  It is called Waste Management. 

For humans the management of input and output is primary parent activity.  Those tiny people after they pop out have clear goals in life: eat, sleep, fill their pants and cry (or coo) to manipulate the big people in their homes to manage their input and output needs. 

As adults, we often collaborate on the input.  Someone or both provide the resources for purchasing the food to be prepared for consumption.  There are any number of options for getting the food ready, maybe one does the grilling outside and the other deals with the range and oven.   For the most part, we do our own personal waste management. 

When Chronic illness joins the family, not only does full responsibility for input become the responsibility of the Caregiver, but sometimes output, waste management, becomes the full responsibility of the Caregiver. 

At the risk of becoming indelicate (there is nothing delicate about waste management), I now am in charge of output in our household.  Understand that “in charge” does not connote control of when, where and how much, just dealing with it when it does come. 

There are certain rules provided on the training CD.  One is that there will be multiple expulsions of wheat colored liquid during the night.  Those events demand help from the one in charge of waste management, so that what is expelled ends up in the bedside commode (Medicare will provide that tool).  By the way, the color is important.  Too much color (dark amber) suggests dehydration and the need for more liquid input.  Red means it is time to call the doctor. 

The rules say that at least one of those trips to the commode will happen during  the Caregiver’s deepest sleep, that deep sleep we are told must not be interrupted if we are to stay healthy and functional.   Some nights there are two or three trips, other nights many more.  It is no wonder that sometimes Caregivers are not always sharp and bubbly and upbeat about how things are going.  Anyone who tells a full time Caregiver to buck up and stop whining, other people have it worse, any such person may be harmed physically — at the worst it would be categorized as justifiable homicide. 

My task is simpler than those who care for male Loved Ones.  It is far easier to contain liquid waste that drops into the commode than that for which aim is more of a challenge. 

Then there is the management of solid waste.  Those who have Parkinson’s or some other chronic illnesses may no longer have the dexterity to reach the place most in need of being reached when dealing with output.  That is where the one in charge of Waste Management springs into action.  (That just sounded silly, but please bear with me.  I am trying to say all this in a way that doesn’t gross anyone out or embarrass the ones who to their horror are in need of such help).

The rules of solid waste management are these:  it comes when it comes, and often without warning.  Almost without fail, it comes in the middle of a meal.  I suspect I can move that transfer chair (wheel chair with small wheels for indoor use) from zero to thirty-five (the indoor speed limit at our house) in a matter of seconds — pants down and seated measured in fractions of a second.  My motivation?  Need I ask?  As the one in charge of waste management, it is my responsibility no matter where it lands.  By the way, it has come to be so, that performing my   duties does not impact my ability to finish eating the meal.  Sometimes I wish it would — every time I step on those silly scales at the doctors’ offices, the ones calibrated purposely to publicly humiliate anyone who stands on them. 

The rules of solid waste production also include emergency needs during trips out to social gatherings, grocery stores, restaurants, church or synagogue or mosque or society meetings.  It happened again tonight.  Waste Management has gender implications.  For those of us whose Loved One is the other gender, there are very unsettling complexities to fulfilling the role of chief of output. 

I dread it, just dread it.  No matter how understanding people are, a busy women’s restroom with multiple stalls is not a welcoming place for a man.  When she needs to go, she needs to go.  I have learned to seek out one-holers –  men’s and women’s restrooms that have one stool and a door that can be locked behind us.  Most Casey’s General Stores, some Arby’s, often Subway sandwich shops, some Taco Bell’s, some Pizza Huts, many small convenience stores have one-holers.  Of course the greatest invention in the history of humanity is the family bathroom.  Some newer rest areas, airports, Walmarts have them.  Gratefully, there is almost always someone around who can be enlisted to guard the door while we are both in the ladies room.  Then there was the time we entered a large but quiet ladies room, only to discover that while we were in there, a busload of thirty-one Second Graders came and were standing outside, their little legs crossed, while we had a substantial need to deal with on the inside.   

I suspect that other Caregivers share with me a quiet terror that lies in the recesses of our minds all the time, a fear fueled by horrible memories of past experiences with it — the dreaded diarrhea.  How many times have we changed bedding, maybe thrown away a mattress we just couldn’t clean, tossed clothing or sheets because we couldn’t face again the task of trying to get the stains out, scrubbed bathroom floors and walls, cleaned carpeted areas. 

I have to say something now that will probably seem sort of pollyanna in its tone.  I don’t like the job of waste management.  Sometimes it feels as it the smells will never leave my nostrils.  Sometimes it seems as if we cannot have much of a life as long as we are ruled by providing input and manageing output.  For me, it has come to be part of my job.  It is what I do.  It is neither good nor bad.  It just is.  When waste needs to be managed, it gets managed.  We use what we call pads (absorbant paper underwear), baby wipes, chuks (absorbant, plastic lined fold out sheets) for under the bottom sheet on the bed.  We put fitted plastic sheets under the mattress pad.  We have a bedside commode right there so that few steps are needed at night.  There are pads and babywipes in her purse.  We take just the right balance of over the counter Miralax and Senna to keep the activity somewhere between constipation and diarrhea. 

We do it for our babies, we do it for the people we love who can no longer do it for themselves.  It is the way we express the love we declare with our words.  However stupid it sounds to say it, I find Waste Management to be a nobel profession.  It is not for sissies.  When the job has been the most difficult and frustrating and messy, afterward (not usually during) I feel as if I have just been engaged in the game of life, living it to the full, not watching it go by from the sidelines.  I am somebody, doing something that actually makes a difference for someone I love.  By the way, talk about heros — thank a CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant) who serves in Waste Management at hospitals and nursing homes, next time you see one.   

There!  I did it!  I knew this had to be written.  I just didn’t know how to do it and when to do it.  Caregivers in Waste Management, maybe we could form a Union — however, no striking allowed.

 

March 12, 2009

Caregiver and Receiver Communication Tools

Posted by PeterT under Practical Tools for Coping | Tags: , , , , |
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Mary Ann is in bed now, watching television.  I am sitting at the computer on the other side of a closed door, around the corner and down the hall in my office writing this post.  What if she need’s me?  How will I know?  She needs my help to take care of basic bathroom needs.  The Parkinson’s Disease has quieted her voice.  Getting out of bed and walking out to find me is not always an option as mobility has diminished over the years. 

I can hear what is happening in the bedroom through the surprisingly powerful speaker on the baby monitor sitting just to my left on the corner desk on which the computer monitor sits.  I can disconnect it from the power cord, use the batteries, and walk outside or sit on the deck and hear her movements. 

I have a love/hate relationship with another of our communication devices – the electronic doorbell.  A number of years ago, I found an inexpensive electronic doorbell system that included two button units and the sound unit (about the size of a pager).  I bought two systems.  There is a button in each of the two upstairs bathrooms within reach of the toilet stool.  There is a button next to the bed in case I don’t hear her through the baby monitor.  There is a button on the table by the parking space for the transfer chair where she takes up residence each day.  The sound unit (only one still works) sits in a central location. 

Let me tell you why the relationship with that doorbell is a love/hate relationship.  The sound of that bell rings in my ears.   It immediately triggers that same reactive fight or flight response that helped our ancient ancestors survive.  It means I must stop what I am doing and move, hopefully, to the right button location.  The need may be an urgent trip to the bathroom or bedside commode.  The need may be to pull a cover over her, turn her in bed, turn the television off, the ceiling fan on or off, have a drink of water, Tums for her tummy, a snack.  It may be to deal with the mice or rats she often sees in the bed.  Hallucinations and vivid dreams are gifts from the Parkinson’s that journeys with us.  How can I help but hate the sound of that doorbell? 

I love that doorbell.  It is the bell that tolls freedom for me.  Were it not for that bell, I couldn’t venture to another part of the house to write a post or listen to some music or read an article or calm my spirit with a moment’s peace.  Without the bell, I would be tied to Mary Ann’s side — which, by the way, would annoy her more than me.  Without the bells, she would have no privacy, nor would I.  Without the bell she would need to be in sight every moment of every day until one or both of us cracked and crumbled. 

I think I have gotten a little dramatic about the bell.  It is just a cheap electronic doorbell.  Mary Ann doesn’t even always remember to push the button next to her — but it helps when she does.  The Parkinson’s is here to stay.  We choose not to give it the power to rule our lives.  If a cheap electronic doorbell defuses some of the Parkinson’s power to rule, so be it.

 

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