Hoping to share hear some nice moments or anecdotes from everyone's experience of care. Being a caregiver can be difficult but there are silver linings - sometimes funny or joyful - that make it all worth it.
1. Being able to recite bible scripture from memory to my late mother. 2. Taking my mother to different social events in her town. 3. Taking my mother's homemade fudge to everyone in her town. 4. Visiting my mother's 102 year old friend, who lived across the road from her. I also took plates of homemade pies and pastries and also dinners to this lady, who was also legally blind like my mother and also lived alone like my mother. 5. Witnessing one tear come down my mother's face after she was non verbal, eyes closed.
Statistically, I had thought the odds were pretty good. My mother was 5.5 years younger than my father and women tend to live longer than men. He had really bad lungs from 65+ years of smoking nonfilter cigarettes and was really reckless and many close calls, but he was like a cat with 9 lives. Mom and I had many long conversations, she had a hard life and put up with a lot of abuse. I couldn't deal with my father's disorders and she was the buffer. When they were in Independent Living (2 bedroom/2bath apartment with full kitchen) we used to have a 'thing' where I would say "Mom, promise me you won't die before Pop" and she would always answer in her cute sing song-y accent (North European) "Well, I'll do my best." And then we'd laugh together. The first time my father was in rehab for 2 months following hospital stay was the most content and stress-free I had ever seen my mom. The rehab said he needed to step up to AL so I moved them and Mom was declining cognitively so they went together. The AL had an excellent license that LTC insurance covered (thank goodness). Instead of getting them a 2 bedroom apartment, I got them each their own efficiency suite, not only so she would have some relief and privacy, but I also figured whoever went first I wouldn't have to move the other one yet again. In those last few months, Mom told me repeatedly that it was the best idea I ever had, so whenever she got tired of his complaining and shenanigans she could lock her door and get some peace and quiet from him. She also told me often how grateful she was for everything I did for them. (My father never even asked how I was, much less said thank you,) I really wanted her golden years to be content and free of him but it was not to be. Unfortunately, she died at age 89 one month after their 64th anniversary, massive combination stroke. Doctors even said her heart condition was most likely caused by years of stress. The old man lasted another 17 months in AL until age 96. We never expected him to live past 80 when half his lung was removed, never mind outliving Mom. He almost succeeded in killing me as well. But I'm still here and recovering. 2020 was a piece of cake compared to the previous 10 years. I know Mom loved me and I heard from a couple people that my father was proud of the fact that I served 12 years in the Navy; he just never told ME that. (He was a WWII hero in his country.) Their ashes are scattered on a mountain overlooking a valley in the Catskills where they lived for 50 years.
Each and every time I’d eat a meal with my dad, he start by praying “Lord, thank you for this opportunity to have a meal with my daughter” It always made me quietly smile, now it gives me a lump in my throat, but the smile still comes
My mom is 95 with Alzheimer's and I'm still mostly doing "window visits."
Whenever, I'm getting ready to leave, I tell her to hang up the phone so I know it gets seated properly instead of being partially off the hook. When she's done I give her the "thumbs up" sign and she gives me one back along with blowing a kiss. It always makes me walk away smiling in spite of the long, hard journey.
When my parents first started failing I’d make the long trip every few weeks and attempt to right the sinking ship. It was exasperating, clean, fix, meds, docs and so on. At this point they were pretty much existing on cereal and pop tarts. After I’d gotten things together I’d cook a nice dinner and get them set up in their easy chairs with their TV trays in time for wheel of fortune and wait on them hand and foot. They loved it.
The sight of those two eating contently was both joyful and heartbreaking. They needed to be in assisted living but wouldn’t hear of it. But I’d sit back, sneakily fix a cocktail for myself and enjoy watching them in their happy place.
When I go visit my 98-yr old auntie with advanced dementia and she still recognizes me and then DOESN'T start our conversation (in front of everyone and very loudly) with, "Wow, you've gotten so FAT! Why are you so FAT?!"
My mother smiles at me and tells me she loves me often, and thanks me for taking good care of her. I told her she never has to thank me, but it sure does feel good when she does.
Two things come to my mind, the first, my husband despite his many issues, usually could pick up on when I was having a tough day, and despite him being completely bedridden, he would call me over to his bedside, and put his one good arm up to give me a hug. They always made me feel better, along with feeling safe and secure. The second is anytime I would have to run an errand or was out for any reason, I would ask him when I returned if he missed me, and without fail, he would always say "all the time honey, all the time". Those two things I miss the most, now that he's no longer here.
2. Taking my mother to different social events in her town.
3. Taking my mother's homemade fudge to everyone in her town.
4. Visiting my mother's 102 year old friend, who lived across the road from her. I also took plates of homemade pies and pastries and also dinners to this lady, who was also legally blind like my mother and also lived alone like my mother.
5. Witnessing one tear come down my mother's face after she was non verbal, eyes closed.
The first time my father was in rehab for 2 months following hospital stay was the most content and stress-free I had ever seen my mom. The rehab said he needed to step up to AL so I moved them and Mom was declining cognitively so they went together. The AL had an excellent license that LTC insurance covered (thank goodness). Instead of getting them a 2 bedroom apartment, I got them each their own efficiency suite, not only so she would have some relief and privacy, but I also figured whoever went first I wouldn't have to move the other one yet again. In those last few months, Mom told me repeatedly that it was the best idea I ever had, so whenever she got tired of his complaining and shenanigans she could lock her door and get some peace and quiet from him. She also told me often how grateful she was for everything I did for them. (My father never even asked how I was, much less said thank you,) I really wanted her golden years to be content and free of him but it was not to be. Unfortunately, she died at age 89 one month after their 64th anniversary, massive combination stroke. Doctors even said her heart condition was most likely caused by years of stress. The old man lasted another 17 months in AL until age 96. We never expected him to live past 80 when half his lung was removed, never mind outliving Mom. He almost succeeded in killing me as well. But I'm still here and recovering. 2020 was a piece of cake compared to the previous 10 years. I know Mom loved me and I heard from a couple people that my father was proud of the fact that I served 12 years in the Navy; he just never told ME that. (He was a WWII hero in his country.) Their ashes are scattered on a mountain overlooking a valley in the Catskills where they lived for 50 years.
My mom is 95 with Alzheimer's and I'm still mostly doing "window visits."
Whenever, I'm getting ready to leave, I tell her to hang up the phone so I know it gets seated properly instead of being partially off the hook. When she's done I give her the "thumbs up" sign and she gives me one back along with blowing a kiss. It always makes me walk away smiling in spite of the long, hard journey.
The sight of those two eating contently was both joyful and heartbreaking. They needed to be in assisted living but wouldn’t hear of it. But I’d sit back, sneakily fix a cocktail for myself and enjoy watching them in their happy place.