Caregiver Struggles

I am embarrassed to say that last week I yelled at Muddear. She had been fussing about E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G! From not having enough money to not wanting to wear her gown because it had a split in it, to telling me that she was tired of me lying to her about the amount of time required to take a breathing treatment.

It was Friday night, I had worked all day, Muddear had been up multiple nights in a row, and I was T-I-R-E-D! I honestly could not handle Muddear arguing with me continuously about her breathing treatment for 25 minutes. It normally takes 12 minutes, but Muddear decided that the treatment was done and she was tired of me telling her that it wasn't. After 10 minutes, Muddear refused to finish the treatment and simply sat in her wheelchair staring at the wall. It was driving me N-U-T-Z! I was at a loss as to how to make Muddear comprehend the importance of taking the breathing treatment in its entirety. And truthfully, I did not want another night of Muddear yelling and screaming that she could not breath. As I contemplated the possible outcomes of my night, I started yelling!

Immediately, I realized that the best way to control the situation was to leave the room, which I promptly did. When I calmed down, I was very embarrassed and somewhat ashamed of my behavior. I could not wait for Mike to return home so that I could confess. It was a difficult night.

Barbados

It never gets any easier. Mike and I are going on vacation in Barbados so you know what that means, another respite stay (temporary nursing home stay - see Support Systems) for Muddear. As much as I love going on vacation, it always breaks my heart to leave her. I never tell Muddear until the very last minute - usually the night before. I know that makes me a shmuck, but I don't know what makes me feel worse, telling Muddear in advance and making her worry week after week; or springing it on her the night before and potentially creating a panic. Heads or tails? What is worse is that when I choose the latter option, I pretend to have already told her by nonchalantly "reminding" Muddear that I am going out of town.

Usually, after asking a few questions, Muddear accepts her fate rather easily. Typically, she wants to know things like, "Where are you going? How long will you be gone? Where am I going? Who's going to help me?" Nothing out of the ordinary. Once those questions are cleared up, Muddear is on to the next topic, while I continue to harbor guilt.

That was last night. Today was the big day and I started it guilt free. Mike bundled up Muddear and came to pick me up at work (I carpooled today) so we could drop her off together. He knows how difficult this simple task is for me and comes along for moral support. While on the way to my office, Mike calls to inform me that this morning, Muddear was a little resistant to the fact that she was going to respite care - my guilt begins to build again. Once I am nestled in the backseat of the car, I begin to bombard Muddear with light conversation and stuff her with chips. Is it obvious I am trying to reduce my guilt? Fortunately, Muddear takes it all in stride.

It seems like in a manner of minutes we arrive at the nursing home, Muddear is checked in for her stay, and it is time to bid her adieu. I think this is the point where Mike starts to feel a little guilty - the act of leaving her is always the hard part. Mike usually brings a stash of goodies and leaves them with Muddear during every stay. Today was no different; Muddear is armed with Fig Newtons, pork skins, and potato chips. We kiss her goodbye, wave our final farewells, and head home. I am a little sad...