Post #5
My caregiving journey began in my high school years when I worked with a teen group who partnered with the local Opportunity Center to provide after hours activities for minors with developmental disabilities. At first my best friend and I became involved by throwing parties for the kids; then, as they and their parents began to trust us, we were frequently asked to care for them while their parents were working or taking time for rest.
We discovered that each child/teen's needs were different. All needed supervision, but some also needed help with eating, others with dressing and tying their shoes, etc. Being responsible for someone who is totally dependent on you is an eye opener. Like many teens I had often had the opportunity to babysit, but it was at this point I began to recognize the need to be a true caregiver who considered the needs of the children over my own.
This is the only photo that I have of our interactions forty-six
years ago with these special needs children. It looks like
I'm playing a game with C, one of the girls I often cared for.
During my first semester of Junior College I took an adult psychology class and learned that many senior adults spend their final years without ever being touched by another person. The idea of this possibility really hit me in the heart. Soon after, Sandie (my best friend) and I decided we wanted to be involved in the lives of elderly adults who had no one to care for them. We called the local social services office and explained to a social worker that we would like to provide groceries and other items for a "shut-in" (an old fashioned term meaning someone who didn't leave their home for health reasons). We were also open to helping them in other ways. Even if nothing else was needed, we wanted to visit on a regular basis and play games (old-fashioned board/card games).
The first "grandmother" that we adopted had a problem with her legs and had to drag herself on the floor from room to room and then pull herself up to a standing position when she reached her destination. Mrs. B wanted to be as independent as she could, so she wouldn't let us do much for her. While she accepted the bags of groceries and Christmas decorations, and appreciated it when we did her grocery shopping, she wanted to pay for things and insisted on cleaning most of the house herself. She had a pleasant personality, a contagious laugh, and loved to play board games. We really enjoyed the company of Mrs. B and became very close.
Visiting our second adopted "grandmother" was a totally different experience. The social worker warned us that "Molly" (fictional name) did not have family and rarely had visitors. She wasn't sure if Molly would accept our gifts and company, but she encouraged us to try.
I have to admit that I drove up to Molly's house for the first time with a confidence only a young person with a lack of negative experience can feel. Sandie and I each grabbed a grocery bag, and we knocked on the door with ready smiles. Then after a few minutes of waiting with no response, we began to feel a little nervous. Eventually the door cracked a little and a hoarse, gruff voice commanded us to "go away." We answered that we would like to share some groceries with her, but she repeated her command. Slowly we walked to the car, wondering what we should do under the circumstances. We had purchased these groceries and didn't have anyone else to give them to, so we sat in the car for awhile, praying that we would know the right way to respond.
To our surprise Molly came out on the porch after a few minutes and waved to us. "Okay. You girls can come in. I'm sorry I was so rude, but I haven't had anyone come to the door in over five years."
It was obvious that she hadn't had much recent interaction with people, but Molly warmed up to us over time. We weren't needed to care for her physical needs at all--she seemed healthy and capable--but her spirit had been withering of loneliness, and the care we gave her by visiting every week and teaching her how to play games changed her attitude. Her frown lines became smiles and her gruffness turned into warmth. Molly taught me that caregiving was not only taking care of a person's body but also providing the love and consistency it takes to meet their emotional needs--it was a life lesson I'll never forget.
Perhaps you feel you could never be a 24/7 caregiver, but you might be able to commit to serving food on a weekly basis at a soup kitchen, or to babysitting at your local women's and children's shelter. Maybe there's an older person in your neighborhood that needs rides to the doctor, help around the house, or a caring friend that will visit regularly. The opportunities to give care to those in your community are endless.
I think there is a difference in being a caregiver as opposed to being a volunteer for the purpose of community service (whether that requirement is opposed on you by yourself, your school, or a government agency). A true caregiver will do more than just put in volunteer time. A caregiver is one who cares for another person by assessing their desires and needs and tries to meet those that she/he can in a way that has the person's best interest at heart.
Comments