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The Gifts of Caregiving Print E-mail
A personal story by Connie Goldman Share Share
Twenty-five years ago, when my mother became ill and partially dependent, the word caregiver didn’t exist. As nearly as I can determine, it wasn’t in the dictionary until 1997. I didn’t think of myself as a caregiver, but simply as a daughter who, when her mother required help, would figure out how to provide the care that was needed. In my particular situation, my daughter and I became a caregiving team. She lived a short distance from her grandmother, while I lived and worked almost two thousand miles away. I made the major decisions, provided suggestions from a distance, and flew back to my hometown nearly every Friday to relieve my daughter until I had to leave on Monday.

I remember wishing I knew someone who was a caregiver so I could talk about it with them. In my circle of friends, I was the first middle-aged daughter to take care of an aging parent. My friends wanted to help, but my particular situation was out of the realm of their experience. I constantly juggled fear, frustration, irritation, indecision, and guilt that I wasn’t doing enough for my mother and that I shouldn’t be living on the other side of the country during her time of need. At the end of her life, the most difficult thing for me was the sadness I felt, not only because of the loss, but because some of the misunderstandings and unresolved issues between my mother and myself were never openly discussed or repaired. Perhaps if I had heard stories of mother-daughter reconciliations, I could have put some of my anxieties to rest long ago.

Family caregivers often feel burdened, overwhelmed, and stressed. There’s a good chance that a person who has taken on the responsibility of caring for another will experience feelings of depression, helplessness, and isolation. Yet, we are far from alone. The late Dana Reeve, wife of actor Christopher Reeve who suffered paralyzing spinal cord injuries, told me: “One of the things that I’ve realized is that I’m part of a group called ‘caregivers,’ and there are millions of us. It’s often something that we take on willingly because we love the person and because we feel it’s our duty, and yet we don’t see it as a job, necessarily, and it really is. Not that we wouldn’t do it anyway.”

Millions of us are currently providing care and assistance to someone who is ill, frail, or disabled, or we have done so in the past. Many times I’ve heard the figure quoted that only 5 percent of those requiring care are living in facilities that provide professional services. The other 95 percent live in their home or in the home of a relative. Their care has been taken on by family members or friends for whom caregiving isn’t a paying job or a chosen career. An estimated twenty-five million adults have added a volunteer caregiving commitment to an already full life.

We are wives, husbands, life partners, mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, sisters, brothers, cousins, friends, neighbors-anyone who takes on the responsibility of providing care and comfort for another’s needs. We most often become caregivers through unforeseen and unplanned-for circumstances. A father falls suddenly ill, a mother becomes increasingly forgetful, a spouse is diagnosed with macular degeneration, a grandmother is too frail to care for herself, an elderly friend is without family or resources. With little or no warning, we become caregivers.

We take on the role of caregiver because the alternatives aren’t acceptable to our families or ourselves. Often we don’t know what we’re getting into, but we make the leap anyway, take on the responsibility, and hope for the best. Our day often includes dealing with frustration, stress, irritation, exhaustion, confusion, and guilt. Yet, sadness and uncertainty are only part of the experience. Caregiving is also about knowing we’ve done our best and served someone we love.

Along with an awareness that a cure might not be possible and an acceptance of what can’t be controlled or changed, many of us learn something deeply meaningful and profoundly spiritual about ourselves. Through the caregiving experience we can expand our vision, touch new depths of compassion and gratitude, and reassess our priorities. A daughter, herself in her sixties, shared with me some thoughts as she reflected back on the time when she sat with her dying semiconscious mother. “Hard as it all had been taking charge of her personal care, seeing my own living patterns changed in almost every conceivable way, struggling with the guilt of never doing enough, still in some way I can’t really explain there’s been some immeasurable value in me just being there for her. Through this experience of caregiving, I think I’ve really grown and learned a lot about myself.”

I hope you will see that caregiving can be a gift in disguise-an experience that moves you toward a more meaningful connection with yourself and with others and a chance to nurture your spirit and transform your life.

book Connie Goldman is an award-winning independent public radio producer, author and public speaker, formerly on the staff of National Public Radio. She is the author of four books and is the recipient of the 2001 Senior Award from the American Society on Aging. Her book, “The Gifts of Caregiving” includes a CD recording of the public radio program, “Hardship into Hope: the Rewards of Caregiving”.  It is available at Amazon.com.

 

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