Not Everything is Your Fault

I keep writing posts about my experiences as a caregiver, and then I delete them. Not everything is fit for public consumption. I do have a few general observations that may help people, however.

I would like to let other caregivers know something: if you’re getting annoyed more than you would like, it may not be your fault. Not entirely. Many people are argumentative, dismissive, and inclined to take repeated verbal jabs at their relatives. When these people get older and lose their minds, they are likely to do these things more often. A demented person may forget that he insulted you or argued with you (about something he was clearly wrong about) earlier in the day, so when he does it again, it’s like a new experience for him. A person who needled you twice a week when you were 30 may do it 20 times a week when he becomes demented, and sooner or later, you are going to be annoyed. It’s not you, so be careful how much blame you lay on yourself.

If you have a demented parent who had certain buttons he liked to push when he was younger, he is now likely to push those buttons much more often. And you can’t tell your parents to shut up and get lost. You can’t really unload on them about the rotten things they did when they were young. It serves no purpose, and people will think you’re abusive. You’ll have to have a strong prayer life, and you will have to limit the amount of time you spend with the person you care for. Don’t feel bad if they get lonely. It’s their fault, and the proper cure isn’t to make your own life miserable. There are some problems you can’t fix, so let them go and be at peace.

I’ll tell you something interesting. Jesus snapped at people from time to time. I’m not saying you have license to be obnoxious, but you don’t have to be better than Jesus. At the very least, you are entitled to brief moments of anger which you keep to yourself.

I feel very bad for my dad, and I have been somewhat down on myself because I felt I wasn’t as patient as I could have been. My dad’s life is pitiable. He can’t have friendships now. He never had friends who would be willing to spend substantial time with a demented person. He can’t drive. He can’t do anything interesting with his time. He can’t work the phone or computers well enough to keep up with people. I feel bad because I get annoyed with a person who is in this terrible situation.

At the same time, I know where his problems came from. When he was younger, he made deliberate choices and developed habits he knew were difficult for other people to bear. He really made people suffer. The consequences he experiences now were foreseeable and inevitable. I had nothing to do with them.

It’s not realistic to try to make him happy. That won’t happen. I can’t give him a real social life. I can’t give him satisfying things to do. I can’t work miracles. I have to be satisfied with a reasonable amelioration of his quality of life. Don’t expect too much of yourself.

I look after my dad’s business. I see to it he gets medical care. I make a fair effort to provide him with conversation and contact. That’s all I can do. I’m not going to cook meals from scratch every day or take him to restaurants 5 times a week. I’m not going to sit with him for three hours a day. I’m not taking him on trips; that would be a nightmare. I have no help, and I’m just a human being.

Here’s something else: your charge will surprise you a lot. For example, they will never stop finding new ways to defile your environment with mucus, spit, feces, and urine. You will try to plan for everything, but you will still get blindsided. I don’t think you can do anything about this. I joined an online support group and made ample use of Google, but I have not been able to predict all of the problems that have come my way.

I had to get my own secret refrigerator, and I hide food from my dad. I don’t want him eating things out of the package and getting spit and mucus all over them. I wish I had my own kitchen. I have thought about putting a few items in a big upstairs bathroom.

Support groups help, but they are of limited value, and they can cause you stress if you get too involved. A lot of the people who show up are self-righteous and rude (hello…Internet), and forums tend to be heavily laden with granola-based leftist life forms who like to give people hypocritical lectures in order to make themselves look good. “My 7 rescue cats and I cried a little when we read about the way you’re not composting your mom’s diapers.” Okay.

My advice: ask your questions, ignore the grandstanding and insults, and get out. I quit the group I belonged to because I had started to feel like a Trump associate trying to have a quiet dinner at a restaurant.

I figured something else out recently. You have to be willing to think about assisted living. I want my dad to live in his own home until he dies, but it may not be possible. I don’t know how long I can handle the burden of dealing with him.

I can’t leave for more than a couple of hours unless I find temporary housing for him or get someone to stay with him. I can’t have a clean house. The counters in the kitchen always have spit on them (he uses it as a cleaning fluid) unless I’ve just cleaned them. Smells come out of his bedroom suite. I have stepped in fresh mucus where he blew his nose on the floor. I have to put up with daily interrogations about my efforts to get married and give him grandchildren. I can live like this for a certain amount of time, but it’s not sustainable. If he is still with me a year from now, I will probably be looking for a facility for him.

I’ll tell you what. I never want to be asked about marriage or grandchildren again. If you mess up your kids, you really should not nag them later on about the way their lives turned out. It’s bad form. I’m doing everything I can, but I can’t change reality.

If I get a woman pregnant tomorrow, my dad will probably be dead before the child can talk. His illness is terminal. If he had a grandson right now, things would be bad. He can’t be a grandfather. He can’t take kids anywhere. He can’t buy them presents. He can’t really hold conversations with them. He is never going to be a grandfather, and it would be best if he understood it and admitted it’s his own fault.

As for marriage, well, I’m old, and I’m not much of a draw. Also, God forgive me, when I look at women my age, I think, “No way, no way, no way, no WAY.” Being single is not that bad. I know I don’t look any better than they do, but I can’t change what I feel.

Marriage isn’t just a friendship. If it were, I’d move in with another man. God knows they’re easier to get along with. “Is this your dynamite on the kitchen table, next to the disassembled AR-15?” “Yes.” “Cool.”

Marriage is largely about romance. I’m not going to wake up in despair every morning just so I can have someone on hand to help me if I break a hip. Hiring a caretaker is cheaper than marrying, and I wouldn’t have to let the caretaker kiss me.

After I reached a certain age, I found that I appealed mainly to obnoxious older women other men had rejected for extremely sound reasons. Put me in a church pew, and the 200-pound lady who collects pieces of toast she thinks have Jesus’ face on them will come stand next to me, pressing her body against me if I have no place to run, and then she’ll start telling me how she dreamed about God’s plan for us. “I had a vision of the two of us reciting psalms while you rub Bag Balm on my bunions.” No. No no no no no no NO!

I suppose my dad will nag me about marriage as long as he has breath.

Before I forget, there is one more thing you will learn when you’re a caregiver. People love to sell old people things, and by “sell,” I mean “charge their credit cards without telling them.” My dad’s American Express card has been changed several times because of fraud. Magazines show up. Miracle pills arrive in the mail. Lots of people will want your parents’ money when they get too old to look after it, so make sure you look at bank and credit card statements all the time.

My dad received several ounces of silver plus a $600 bill from a company in Ohio. If it hadn’t been for me, he would still have the silver. I have also had to kill magazine and Internet subscriptions.

I don’t know if any of this information is helpful. I hope it is. I have no one to teach me how to be a caregiver. I’ve learned by making mistakes. Maybe I can help you avoid making mistakes.

Be nice to your kids. They may have a lot of power over you some day.