Post #10
When my children were young (4, 7, 8--give or take a year) we lived on eleven acres about 20 miles from Oklahoma City. We loved the country life, especially our animals, but we also knew that there were others whose lives were much more difficult, and we wanted to do something to help. So once a week our family and another family (our dear friends) would pack up a couple of large kettles full of homemade soup, several loaves of bread and jugs of tea, then drive to downtown Oklahoma City to a spot that we knew was occupied by the homeless.
Most evenings we passed out food, talked to those who hung around, and eventually packed up the van with our two families. But on three or four occasions we took someone home with us to offer them shelter. I don't remember exactly how we decided who we would take home. It all seemed to happen without forethought, and we didn't regret the time we spent with these men--even though there was no evidence of them overcoming their personal problems so that they could work again.
The first man was an alcoholic in his fifties, who didn't last long in our home where there was no alcohol except aftershave (which mysteriously disappeared during that week). After a few days he begged us to take him back to the streets. The second man was a Vietnam war veteran and suffered from flashbacks. He stayed with our friends, but came over to help us out frequently. He seemed to be getting along fine. . . and then he disappeared. The third was a young man, early 20s, who had the habit of talking to himself and other people that I couldn't see. In spite of this habit, all of the family really connected to him. We were surprised, but happy for him, when he decided to go back to his family in California.
That's not the end of this young man's story though. A few months later, he showed up again. Immediately, we realized that his mental state had deteriorated since we last saw him. He was convinced that he could see demons everywhere, and he felt that it was his responsibility to warn everyone of their presence. His constant fear was unnerving. After he stayed a few weeks he didn't seem much better, and my husband and I began to think we couldn't let him stay indefinitely. We decided to buy him a bus ticket back to his parents. It was a difficult decision, because in spite of his instability, he was a likable guy.
It is difficult to know when it's time to make a change in your caregiving situation; however, either the attitude of the person being cared for or your own attitude may give a clue that something needs to be changed--although it's usually not as drastic as sending someone to other caregivers. In most cases, I try to think of smaller changes that can be implemented first, then consider more extensive ones if needed.
When I find my attitude interrupting my day and keeping me from giving the quality of care I know I'm capable of giving, I plan some alone time, so that I can reflect upon these important questions:
1) Why am I not enjoying the situation? Is it something in the environment, the tasks I need to do, the person's attitudes or actions, too few breaks, or maybe a personal problem that I've suppressed?
2) What can I do to address the underlying reason for my discontentment? (Supposing I've already discovered what is causing my unhappiness.) Is this a problem I can solve easily or will it take time and/or help from others?
3) Is the problem unsolvable? If so, can I change my attitude and keep a loving caregiving spirit? What might I do to begin to change my attitude?
4) And finally the tough questions--Am I the right caregiver for this person (people) or should I find someone else? Is it time for this person to become more independent? How can I approach the subject or lead them gently into the realization that they are healing physically or emotionally so that it is time to be independent? Or do I let them know they need to change to a professional caregiving situation? Is it time to admit to myself and others that I'm not in a personal place that allows me to be a good caregiver right now?
Questions also need to be asked from the care receiver's point of view. It is important to notice if they are unhappy or uncomfortable with some aspect of care. If they are able to express their needs, listen carefully. If they can't communicate clearly, you will need to observe what their actions and reactions tell you. Be honest. Are you meeting their needs?
Sometimes there are situations in which there is no other acceptable solution other than to continue the caregiving situation in spite of the difficulties. If you run out of ideas on how to better your attitude or the care receiver's attitude or any aspect of changing the caregiving situation, it is time to get outside help. I have found help from books, caregiver support groups, my mom's physicians, and most of all from my husband, Ron, who has been my major support for the last twelve years.
Dear Caregiver, please remember that you are not alone. There are many of us who are caring for people, and we all need each other. Don't hesitate to find someone who can support you while you address the difficult questions that will aid you on your quest to become that kind-hearted caregiver you know yourself to be.
Comments