I am back in the role of care-giver, if only for a few minutes every night, and it’s not a burden. Not at all. It’s a mix of love, appreciation and thanks.
CARE-GIVING DOESN’T really stop when a loved one goes into memory care. At least, not if you don’t want it to, and I don’t.
Connie went into memory care in January of 2024. There was no way I was going to be able to manager her care on my own in an apartment. It was time to think about safety, and she was still cogent enough to care about me. She didn’t want me tied down to an apartment 24/7.
That ended my care-giving days, until recently. Up until a few weeks ago my visits to the care center involved taking her out for drives and walks, sitting in evenings watching TV just as we would have done in our apartment. We carried on conversations about the kids, politics, life in the unit.
But, over the past few months as the speech aphasia and memory loss became more pronounced the conversations dwindled and a few weeks ago, when our evenings would come to an end, she would look at me and asked “what do I now?”
The staff already was helping her dress in the morning, but I realized that the simple act of getting ready for bed was now moving beyond her. I began helping.
“Take off your glasses,” I tell her each night and sometimes she begins to take off her shirt. “No, the glasses.” She looks at me, pauses, then takes off the glasses and I clean them.
Each night we brush her teeth. She no longer can get the toothpaste onto the brush, then turn on the electric brush. So, I do all that then hand her the brush. Some nights I brush her hair. From time to time, there is need to change the disposable underwear, make sure she’s clean. Reporting anything I find to the night nurse so he can keep an eye on her.
Instructions are confusing now.
“Take off your glasses,” I tell her each night and sometimes she begins to take off her shirt. “No, the glasses.” She looks at me, pauses, then takes off the glasses and I clean them.
After she gets her teeth brushed she lies down in bed and I take her socks off, then I cover her up and lean in close for a kiss, a hug and “I love you.”
“You are good at this,” she said one night. “Think I could get a job here?” I asked. “I wish you could,” she said.
I used to think of caregiving as a burden, and if I had to do it 24/7 I probably still would think of it that way. But this evening ritual is not a burden. It’s the least I can do for someone who has given me everything she had to give for the past 58 years.
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. Since 1995 he has operated an international consulting, public speaking and training business specializing in customer service, general management, leadership and staff development with major corporations, organizations, and government. Semi-retired, he and his wife live in West Chester, PA. He can be reached at [email protected].