As I mentioned a couple weeks ago, Randy's mom is having some health issues (read her story here: Attitude is Everything). She is receiving medical treatment here in California, but her home is in New Mexico. So last week Randy and I took her there to take care of a few things that couldn't be done online from here. During that week we got a glimpse of what it would look like to be full-time caregivers.
We had a sense that the week would be challenging. In fact, on our way to pick her up for the trip Randy said to me, "No matter what happens this week, remember that I love you." Famous last words! But we didn't have a real picture of what the challenges would be, or that it would be as difficult for her as it was for us.
We took two days to make the drive. The first day was fairly uneventful. Mom has made this trip dozens of times, so she was our GPS. Pointing out landmarks, different routes she has tried, the cheapest places to get gas, the best places to eat, where to spend the night, etc. Which was really kind of fun at first (on the way home was another story, when we wanted to veer off course and have adventures that Mom was both incapable of participating in and refused to let herself enjoy).
But on the second day, as we drove through the mountains, the elevation change started to affect her. Her oxygen levels went down and, even though she fought us, we forced her to use the portable oxygen we had gotten for the trip. The night before in the hotel Randy and I had read the instructions so we would know how to work it. So while he drove us upwards of 7,000 feet, I leaned into the back to tuck the oxygen tubes over Mom's ears and turn the tank on. This battle would continue for the first couple of days after we arrived in New Mexico, with Mom assuring us she felt fine and us assuring her that the numbers showed otherwise. We didn't relent until a friend stopped by whose oxygen levels were far below Mom's and she could finally say to us "I told you so". (A conversation, of course, that will continue at her next doctor's appointment when we get the facts!)
The oxygen battle was really the least of our struggles, however. Mom's frustration that she couldn't do all the things she was used to doing is what really affected her, which she took out on us, and which she regularly apologized for.
Imagine you were used to making the same 19-hour drive several times a year on your own, driving your own car or your motor home, with your dog by your side, and seemingly out of the blue you are no longer able to drive long distances, walk your dog, get in and out of the car or even fasten your seat belt without help. We completely understood her frustration. And yet it was hard to feel like nothing we did was right or good enough or the way she would do it. So her frustration became our frustration and by the end of the week we were all ready to go our separate ways for a few days. Which, I've been told, is important for full-time caregivers to do, because in some ways it never gets easier.
Of course there were also many blessed moments of gratitude and enjoyment. Mom was grateful to us for taking the time out of our schedules to take her home, and we were grateful for the opportunity to help and to get away. We accomplished everything we set out to accomplish and those are things that will no longer be worrying her while she is away. And being away always makes us happy to come home.
So we are beginning to understand the struggle of care-givers and care-receivers, the battle over when to push and when to pull, when to show compassion and when to be stubborn, when it is okay to be frustrated and when acceptance is required.
I think the major realization I had this week was that it helps our ability to be compassionate when we recognize that the struggle is real, the frustration is real, the challenges are real -- whether you are on the receiving end or the giving end.
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