Growing old is not for sissies ...

... either is caring for them.

"It's easy to get lost in endless speculation.
So today, release the need to know
why things happen as they do.
Instead, ask for the insight to recognize what you're
meant to learn."
Carolyn Myss

I suppose there are some things that a person doesn't need to share on a blog. I suppose there are somethings a person shouldn't share at all. The trouble is, I've found that in my life I do better with complete disclosure rather than keeping things back. So here goes.

So there I was yesterday going blissfully through my day, enjoying the company of friends I hadn't seen in months, listening to praise music, being showered with gifts. Then, out of the blue, though not totally unexpected, like hurricanes at the end of August, there was a bit of a bruhaha.

Let me just say this for those of you who may someday be a caregiver:

1. Be sure to have HAZMAT gear on hand. One of those heavy plastic aprons you see the coroner wearing on forensic TV shows, rubber gloves, a bottle of bleach, and a clothespin for your nose. You never know when they might come in handy.
2. Even though the person you are caring for has not been eating more than a few bites of solid food for weeks, take it from ME there is poop a-brewing. I'm inclined to ask how, but in reference to Ms. Myss's quote, I will try to dispense with endless speculation. Suffice it to say "Poop Happens."
3. When the person you are caring for starts self-medicating with laxatives be sure the aforementioned gear is at the ready.
4. Practice moving with the speed and finesse of a bird of prey in flight. When you are dressed from head to to in the aforementioned gear, standing in the shower with the power setting on the water massage blasting dried excrement from a bucket while trying not to get wet ( or splashed), it is difficult to move rapidly. However, you should be prepared to do so as there is no doubt that as soon as bucket is full of blackwater there will be a call from the next room that sounds something like, "I NEED IT NOW!" in which case you do not want to dawdle.
5. Try not to yell at the care-ee. It really doesn't help the situation. Instead look at his tired face, skinny bare legs, trembling hand and re-acquaint yourself with the compassion you lost in the chlorine cloud.

I am sure greater minds than mine have endlessly speculated the concern geriatric patients have for moving their bowels regularly. Look at the laxative aisle in any drug store and you will see that pharmaceutical companies are making a fortune from the slow moving intestines of people over a certain age. Sure poop happens, but somewhere around 70 it sometimes it needs a little help. So my question would be this ... what is the age cutoff? Does one, like me, go merrily along letting her body work like it always has without giving it too much thought - except after eating one too many cheese items from a Tex/Mex restaurant and one too few servings of vegetables - then one day cross over an unseen line and begin to count the hours between trips to the bathroom? And just for curiosity's sake, would this be the same age when one stops relishing the feel of hot water running down her body in steamy rivulets, the smell of lavender soap and the feel of hair that is squeaky clean all made possible by a daily shower? How old does one have to be before she fears contracting "water fever" like my Dad?

Enough of this speculating. My charge awaits his breakfast. Seems we're having waffles this morning! OMG! Do waffles contain fiber?

My prayer for today. Dear God, please stand by me.

Wishing for you a day full of answers for all your deepest questions.
Merry ME

Note: I think there is a fine line between being funny and making fun of someone. This caregiving stuff is hard to do without every now and then trying to find the humor in an otherwise sad situation. The fact that my dad has had certain gastro-intestinal problems is not to be made light of. However, to keep my sanity I must, at times, stand back and laugh. If I didn't I'd be crying way more than I do now. I mean no offense to my father or others in a similar situation.

Comments

Pamela Jones said…
I think you have every right to picture yourself in a Haz-Mat suit. This is no mere-mortal cleanup task.

Can smell the clorox from here!
September 3, 2010 at 9:01 AM
AkasaWolfSong said…
In all of life I think there is a bit of humor Mary and you've just encapsulated it quite honorably!

Poor Da!

Poor Mary!
September 4, 2010 at 11:27 PM
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