I am a family caregiver, and I am honored to do that. My husband and I care for my father, and we cared for my mother as well until she passed away. When my parents moved into our home, we thought we knew what we signed up for…and we appreciated the opportunity. And I still appreciate the chance to spend time with my dad as his days get slower, his naps get longer, and his memory gets fuzzier.
Dad recently had surgery that will alleviate some major physical pain, and the surgeon reported that the procedure went well. Dad was released from the hospital the same day, even after experiencing some cognitive issues in recovery. What we didn’t realize was that the cognitive issues would persist for a few days. Suddenly, Dad went from needing extra help to needing around the clock care. The doctors instructions included restrictions from driving and taking a hot bath, but he was supposed to be able to do everything else….except, for four days, Dad struggled with words and concepts, medication management, and was wandering around late at night. Wandering without the cane or walker that he was required to use; so suddenly, we were on 24/7 alert. My husband and I were still working, still keeping life going, but providing eyes on care for days.
After days with little sleep, we needed help. For the first 24 hours, I told myself that I can’t work in this field and need my own services. (I’m stubborn sometimes, and for some reason, felt embarrassed that I couldn’t do it all.) And then, I realized that everyone needs help, including me. It isn’t a badge of honor to barely survive, especially when highly qualified help is available to you. So, we brought in a backup caregiver to allow us to sleep in shifts and give my dad some cognitive stimulation. I wasn’t sure how much support in daily activities my dad would allow. Would Dad accept help with medication? Showering? Walking? Getting dressed?
But our caregiver was wonderful! Somehow, the same gentle nudges that we were using worked when they came out of her mouth. The things that Dad clearly couldn’t do (but insisted that he could) were gently nudged to completion. Magically, he accepted help from a professional. Dad ate more, slept well, took a safe shower, walked with his walker, and made it up and down the stairs safely. And honestly, we ate meals, slept well, got some work done, and even exercised. We needed the mental and physical break.
As Dad recovers, our lives go back to normal. If I had it to do over again, I would have planned for the caregiver support rather than be scrambling when he didn’t experience the same cognitive recovery as his physical recovery. I would also have pushed the physicians to talk more about post-surgical recovery, and assumed that my Dad would not be able to do everything he believed he would do. He was too optimistic, and I didn’t want to fight about it. That mistake cost he through difficult days/nights of little sleep.
