Being a Caregiver is not for Wussies

I can’t imagine what Miki has experienced, is experiencing, and will experience as she moves forward in her quest for better health.  We have now been at Centerpoint Medical Center 12 out of the last 15 days getting to know pneumonia.  Her resolve is strong for sure and I can read what I see on the outside, but it’s what’s on the inside that I can’t really empathize with because I’m not there where she is.  During the times that she winces with every bodily movement, I can only wince with her on the surface, I don’t know the source and intensity that wrinkles her eyes, nose, and mouth at once.  I only know that I am relieved when her face relaxes and then I can relax mine.

I can’t imagine losing enough weight that it hurts to sit.  That padding is sorely missed, literally.  And the aches and pains in her back and around her ribs must have a reason to feel that way, but no one knows or has pointed it out to her why.  Why can it feel better one hour or one day and not the next?

I can’t imagine the last four and a half months without a good nights sleep, a regular appetite, and the roller coaster ride from all the medications she has run through her system.  Having doctors and nurses poke, prod, and listen to you while losing any modesty you retain, cleaning up with a soapy rag, and going to the bathroom in a bucket.

I can imagine her smile at what seems to be the smallest things.  Coming in the front door and being greeted by her dogs in her wheel chair, almost nose to nose.  Sitting in the shower under the hot water, just letting it wash over her.  Seeing friends and family or talking to them on the phone, when she can.  Maybe these are not small things, but small blessings.  And these get her through the rest.

I can imagine what brings her tears of happiness, besides seeing me everyday!  (Ha!)  Opening her mail to find such gifts of support (you have no idea!).  Getting outside to lie on her blanket, while digging her fingers into the ground, as if hugging and not wanting to let it go.  And sitting atop her tree house surrounded by limbs and leaves, with a light breeze carrying the load off her shoulders.

I wish this on no one, but I would rather be no place else.  I get to support the lows and join in on the highs.  I get to see her exhaust herself from writing a text and enjoy takin’ a beatin’ on the Cribbage board.  And I get to see her as a lioness on Halloween sharing her candy and spirit.  All of which keep me on the verge of tears at any given time.  This caregiver stuff is not for wussies or the faint of heart, because whatever I have to deal with is peanuts compared to the caregivee.

My Zen from Home:  Every time I catch myself thinking about or describing the difficulties of Miki’s situation, I imagine those that are enduring experiences that seem worse a hundred times over.  But she is not those people and her experience is just as good or bad, joyful or intense, awesome or rotten as the next.  Feel for everyone, no one deserves more or less than the next…except Miki!