A Vignette

I’ve been the caregiver for a while now, but got to thinking what might happen if the tables turned….

         I am sitting on the patio chugging water.

            Omnipaque Oral Solution 12 mg/ml to be specific. That’s basically iodine water you take before you get a CT Scan. Which, in an hour or so, I am getting.

            It’s for my gut. It has been a bit off lately and my GP thought it made sense (because I am old and probably falling apart, which she did not say but I inferred) to take a deep look inside just to be sure there is nothing life-threatening going on.

            It’s part of trend. Three years ago I had discs fused in my neck, then a hip replacement I had done in 1999 gave out and I got a new one. Now I am seeing a spine doc for pain and next week will get two shots deep into my lower back to relieve pain and hopefully put off surgery. Oh, and I am getting shots in my left knee for the same reason.

            Other than, I am fine. 

            But it’s all made me realize what’s changed since Connie went into memory care. Up until this year when I’ve gone through pain and discomfort, she’s been there to listen to me whine. When I’ve needed surgery she’s driven me there, sat through it, brought me home, tended to my every need. And listened to me whine. A lot of whining.

            Now, though, I live alone. I whine to the four walls. It’s got me thinking, though, about how it might go if I need surgery. For the last year-and-a-half I’ve been Connie’s caregiver. Turnabout is fair play. But now, I don’t have a caregiver. Our son is close by, and I know he will be more than happy to drive me to get cut up, bring me back home. I hate to ask but I also know it would piss him off if I didn’t. So, I will.

            But what then? Hmmm. I am in a good place. I am on the first floor of my apartment complex. It’s a small one-bedroom apartment so easy to navigate. No real fall dangers. I can buy groceries ahead of time. Again, my son can take me to appointments. I have access to a gym and yoga room for rehab.

            I hope I don’t need any help any time soon, but it’s got me wondering about who takes care of the caregiver? Most important, who listens to them whine?

            Rich Heiland, has been a reporter, editor, publisher/general manager at daily papers in Texas, Pennsylvania, Illinois, Ohio and New Hampshire. He was part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team at the Xenia Daily (OH) Daily Gazette, a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year. He has worked as a consultant doing public speaking and training business specializing in customer service, general management, leadership and staff development. He and his wife, Connie, live in West Chester, PA. He can be reached at [email protected].