It feels good to know that others out there truly understand what it is like to lose a pet. There are still many days when Luna's absence is so tangible. She definitely left a hole in our family, but to be cared for by so many others and to know that people do understand our loss definitely softens the blow a bit.
And this is the reality of caring for others. I have been doing it for so many years, but it is when I am on the receiving side that I truly understand the impact. I have had so many people tell me, "I couldn't have done this without you.", which of course isn't true as we all step up and do what we need to do when we need to do it. Nonetheless, it is the idea that having a caring hand or heart makes nearby makes difficult times easier. So, it's not that someone "couldn't" have done something without another person, but that the difficult task was made more manageable through the care of others.
The same can be said when it comes to my dad. I do believe he can still manage a lot of things on his own, but when I'm with him, some of the difficult parts of his life become easier. For instance, I could have the assisted living community take him to his doctor appointments, but they don't stay nearby and offer support. I do. I am there to take notes and ask questions and make sure dad is getting the best care possible.
This week I had to have a discussion with the manager at the assisted living community over some concerns I have had recently. It wasn't a fun conversation, but I needed to do it for my dad. For $4100/month I expect exceptional care for my dad. I don't expect for him to sleep on his floor all night yelling for help because he's fallen out of bed. I expect that after four months, and repeated discussions, housekeeping should be able to understand that the sheets go OVER the footrest at the end of the bed instead of tucked in which then frustrates dad and makes him sleep in his chair in the living room. I expect that people shouldn't have to sit alone in the dark in their rooms when there is a power outage because only the hallways have power (what happens in the winter with no heat?). I expect that when I call during a power outage and ask that a message be relayed to my dad, that he will actually get it.
So, although my dad lives in a community with 24-hour care. Ultimately, he relies on me to make sure he is truly cared for well. And I take that responsibility seriously. Last Friday, I stood in the pouring rain next to my car while my dad painstakingly tried to get his legs to do what he wanted and I realized that THIS is my caregiving life now. It doesn't matter if a caregiver is drenched. There aren't enough hands for an umbrella. I can fold up and unfold a walker with the precision I used to have when it came to strollers. I know how to look for the perfect handicap parking spot (they're not all perfect!). I look for fall hazards every where I go. I time my dad's activities around his bathroom needs and medication times of day. And my patience is continuously tested by the heartbreaking stillness and stiffness of Parkinson's.
Caregiving isn't just about taking care of the daily tasks of someone else. Although there are many, many people living out there doing just that. But it's also about the small moments of simply reaching out to another human being and offering a simple gesture of care.
Last night, my oral surgeon called just to check in on me. Not all oral surgeons do that. I'm sure he was home with his family making his nightly calls to check on his patients from that day. It's likely something he does every work day. And sometimes he probably gets a patient on the line who has lots of questions or concerns and he might spend quite a bit of time on the phone. All he did was leave me a voicemail, but that call made me feel cared for. He didn't just pull a tooth out of me and send me on my way, but he took an extra minute out of his day to call and check in. It's that simple stuff that makes a difference.
If we could all just take a moment out of every day to care for another human being, just think of all the difference we could make in the world.
Let me end this with a quick note about self-care, because the older I get, the more I truly understand how important this is as well. Although being cared for is a wonderful thing, there is great growth in self-care as well. Having my tooth pulled yesterday took 7 years of build-up. It should have been pulled years and years ago. But there was so much meaning behind that tooth (that's for another post). I had to work through all of that first. Now that I am on the other side, it is one of the greatest feelings. I am DONE with that tooth. And today, I am home and have a house I could clean and so many other things that I could be doing with a "free" day. But instead, I am going to rest. I am going to give myself this day of self care. A part of my body was removed from me yesterday and my body deserves time to heal. Even though that removed part was toxic, my body still needs time to fill the space that has been left behind and the best way to do that is to simply be still and let positive, refreshed energy fill the space rather than exhausted, overwhelmed energy. And so...today's plan is all about SELF-care.
The past two weeks I have provided care, I have been cared for and I have practiced self-care. And somehow the world seems just a little more peaceful because of it all. Take some time this weekend to offer some care to others and to yourself and perhaps to receive some care from others as well. In a world where there seems to always be the threat of yet another conflict, it is in these little moments of care that all the difference can be made.
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