I am my own "Caregiver".
In January I moved to a 55+ apartment village. I have lived alone with my pet since my divorce in 2004. Although I am not that old (63), I have health issues that keep me home bound, and at times bed ridden for days which can turn into weeks. But, I also have good days. And when I do, I try to play catch up on all the errands. Although I rarely get to them all, I usually end up doing too much which in turn makes me sick again. My Dr's have told me numerous times that I "need to learn my limitations". But if I don't do them, they don't get done. I haven't been to the eye Dr., and other specialist for years. My eye sight seems to be getting worse by the day. My apartment is still in disarray because I cannot arrange the furniture, or transfer the things from my storage unit I need. I have lived without living room furniture because the living room suit I had was too large for this apartment. I was finally able to get a recliner yesterday. Until then I was in my bedroom 24/7. I was making my back, hip and leg injury worse. There was no way I could sit up correctly in the bed. I can't tell you how happy I am to be able to sit in my living room. Even with the other furniture all asunder, I feel like I've been let out of jail.
While I love my family dearly, they seem to have forgotten I exist. Although they are very much aware of my health problems. I know they have their own families and lives, but it still hurts. There have been times I've gone without food, missed Dr's appointments and not spoken to another human being because I have not been able to get out.
I helped with the caregiving of my precious Mama until "she" decided to go into a retirement center. Even then I was there everyday..did her laundry and other things she didn't want the staff doing. She could not walk for the last 5 years of her life and she had alzheimers which progressed rapidly her last year. I spent the majority of everyday with her. I do not regret one second of that time. We made some precious memories that will be with me always. No matter how bad she got, she would always perk up when I entered the room. I was the only girl with eight brothers, so we had a very special and unbreakable bond.
All this being said~~~As stated in my headline, I am my own caregiver and was wondering if there are others living in the same situation. My small dog has kept me from going completely bonkers. She is a rescued elderly dog I got after losing my two boy dog's. She is "my" therapy. She "rescued" me~~~I needed her just as much as she needed me.
If there are others out there that find themselves in the same or similiar situation, I would love to hear how you deal with it.
Thank you for taking the time to read my story.....I could have gone on and on, but I thought you were probably bored enough for now.
This is only part of my story. I started a journal years ago but haven't kept up with it. I should probably start back.
Please excuse any typo's or grammar errors.....I am just too tired to proof it. I did not know what to put as a topic. I don't remember ever reading a situation like mine.
OH, I forgot to add that I am an active animal activist. It's an issue that I am very passionate about, and keeps me busy for as many hours I can put in daily on the PC. My 'lil dog and my activist work "is" my life.