Today as I sat quietly, sort of meditating, preparing to take my husband to physical therapy, five words came to me:
Today. This Day. Right Now.
The words me helped a lot. My small foray into caregiving has, once again, filled me with empathy for caregivers, the often unsung heroes of the world. Not that my job helping my husband after his hip surgery has been that hard, it hasn’t – and the patient is grateful for whatever I do.
Yet caregiving is a disruption in my routine, a move away from the world of how-things-are-supposed-to-be into how-things-are. Right now. This Day. Today.
I’m a little tired. He’s a little tired. Thus it is.
If you missed the exciting news from this week (and thanks to all who sent me notes in response), yes, I did set myself on fire on the eve of my husband Steve’s hip surgery.
And if you missed them, the two previous posts shared learnings I took from my time in Italy, about “The art of nothing-ing” and “If you hang in there things will (probably) work out.” (Learnings that seem just as relevant today.)
So I’ll keep this post short. Another mantra for the week could be: Go slow. Do less. Be gentle.
Actually, that sounds like a good mantra for life, along with
Today. This Day. Right Now.
2 Responses
Sally, I have learned over the past 17 years that spousal caregiving can be the most rewarding and loving activity while at the same time being exhausting at all levels. When it no longer was a disruption in my routine, but rather became how things were, when I embraced the activity not as an obligation but as my dharma, my way in the world, it became easier. No less exhausting, However, I knew I could walk away at any time — hire a full time caregiver, institutionalize my wife, just leave. Not my style. So, I just accepted what was as what is, and was gentle with myself and her. It helped, until my health started not to cooperate. Now, my wife resides in a memory care facility 45 minutes away where she seems content and receives excellent care. I ponder what it means to be alone at my age and what I want to do with the time I have left. Since I basically am only worrying about one person (me) rather than the two that occupied all my thoughts for years, my stress levels are less, or at least different. And, as you note, I am going slower, doing less, being more gentle with myself (and hopefully others.) All the while, I am I incredibly grateful for and blessed by my life with all its demands, twists, turns, and yet-to-be-discovered surprises.
Allan, Your story is amazing. I wonder how people carry the kind of load you have carried for so many years, but they do, and you make it real. The fact that you are still full of gratitude and feeling blessed says so much about what you have drawn from the lessons life gave you. Many thanks for writing!