Caregiving is a love story

 

I did not aspire to be a caregiver, but that is what I have become.   I have balked and struggled, but I want to do my best to help two women, one very young and the other very old.

 

Last year I became a caregiver for my 17-year-old daughter when she was diagnosed with epilepsy.  Two days after we got back from dropping her off at college, my 92-year-old mother had a stroke, and later a heart attack and a bleeding ulcer.  Now I am taking care of my dear mother too.

 

From Lori and Bob, I have learned that caregiving is a love story.  She says Bob reminds her of the gospel song: “He walks with me, and he talks with me and he tells me that I am his own,” even though this of course refers to a much greater love and power than the human.   You give care for someone because you love her or him.  You take on the task rather than delegating it because this is not a job.  It is life.

 

Caregiving is a dance where the person giving care and the person receiving it wrap their arms around each other and move in time together to the music.  Bob says that it is important for the person being cared for to respond with love.  “You must love the people who love you.  Their love and care demands reciprocity.  You can’t just expect or demand or even accept their love and care without convincing them that you love them back.  If nothing else, just tell them.”

 

The dance of caregiving is not a grim duty.  The caregiver both gives and receives joy, as does the person being cared for.  Lori advises: “Make constant ‘deposits’ into your energy bank accounts with hugs, sunrises, and laughs.  They will allow for big withdrawals when you get hit with the unexpected.”

 

Patins - picture 12 in my next blog.

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