In the role of the caregiver

My best friend and I have this phrase that she and I joke about when we call each other. I'll call her up and ask what she's doing and if it's something that she's gonna need to vent about she says, "I'm here..." meaning, there's a story coming up behind it. We laugh because that phrase originally came from a time I misjudged how much room I had behind me while backing up a vehicle into a parking spot -- and then I hit the other car. We laughed.

We often laugh.

But in this case and in my world, here I sit, here I am, back in the role of the caregiver. My friend Frank asked me how I was doing, and my answer was, "I'm here." I'm here, but I've not processed anything. Now that things have slowed down some (in terms of a sense of urgency) there is still a WHOLE 'lot to do. Getting my mother from point A to point B three times a week, plus up to the hospital to see my father, plus little errands around the town, groceries, pickups, etc. Today she woke up moaning because her back is in a spasm, her knees are locked up and she's in pain from the recent surgery she's had, plus the other area on her body that she is due to have surgery. Today is preparation for tomorrow. Tomorrow is scheduled treatment. Wednesday is scheduled surgery. Thursday is recovery time and pain mgmt. Friday is when I hope to get some sleep because Saturday I need to be back on the road and back to work for a 12 hour stretch and 14 days rotations. Caregiving aint for sissies.

And it aint leisurely either.

Emotionally I've set my temperament on, "I'm not gonna be manipulated", which is often the case when dealing with ppl with a chronic illness. Their lives are filled with events and scenarios that constantly drag them down so, in the case of my mother, she swings from moments of, "I can do it all, back off" to moans and whimpers of "I cant make it another step." But mostly she lives in the realm of, "I'm gonna passively-aggressively get you to do what I want through hints and suggestions" with a side of, "Shit, you're just gonna do what I say cuz I know-it-all (but I what I really need is all-the-help)". Honestly, she needs 24-hour supervision. Not because she cant do, but because her needs require help at all hours of the day. What do I mean? Lemme tell you.

Her diabetes may drop her sugar low and she may need quick interventions while barely getting a moan out. She's prone to falls due to moments of low blood pressure because her kidney's cant regulate the regular hemodynamics needed for changes in position, and things like coughing and sneezes can send her crashing to the floor quickly. Her recent surgeries have left her weak, and that on top of other health issues has made her bones brittle and her muscles whimpy so she needs the help of someone - CONSTANTLY. No wonder my dad's heart's giving out. He, and his own vices, and stress, and chronic high blood pressure and worrying and schedules and all of that is taking a toll on his health and so dealing with two sick parents -- is a chore. (Take it as you will, it's alot of work).

My mother's been disabled for 24 years, nearly the entire length of my sister's life. She's 25 and at the age of 6 months, some crackhead - (crack abuser) attacked my mother while at work (as a Social Worker) and her life's been changed ever since. I took on the role of big sister helper and helped with the small tasks around the house until I was given the responsibilities of taking care of my mother and helping to raise my little sister. That meant early mornings, getting her and I both to school, coming home to walk a dog, caring for my mother's afternoon needs, picking up my sister, making sure she ate, running to softball or whatever else was going on, coming home to cook dinner, clean the house, check homework, do the laundry, set up baths, clothes and schedules for the next day.

I was 10.(Well, I was 10 years old by the time it had gotten to that point) I was 5 when it all began. And here I am, age 30, tapping away on a laptop in the silence of a dark kitchen illuminated by the glow of the sun as it shines through patio door window. I snuck the door open for a moment of fresh air to regain a sense of life outside of this moment in time -- yes it seems frozen. I've called into work and let them know that I wont be in for the rest of the week. I can hear the scowl of the supervisor's voice, but then again he doesnt know what's taken place, so I cant fault him. In fact, my call to him is a formality -- just an act of trying to follow the proper chain of command. (But the truth of the matter is, my superior knows whats really going on). And I suppose it is tough trying to schedule ppl in this week -- I mean it IS the holiday season and ppl wanna spend time with their loved ones and gadgets. *Shrug* I dont feel bad tho, I'm not the type of employee who takes a week off from work to go to Disneyland, or the beach or anything, so if I call out -- I need the time off.

My sister's here now, gonna visit my dad again and then she'll be headed back to her home state in a couple of days. I'm grateful that she's here, because the emotional support she's providing through her presence and company is really refreshing.

So that's it for now, I have a feeling more blog posts will be on the way. Rightfully so, this is my place of emptying. Yes, this is The Vault.