The split personality of a caregiver.
Does our original role as: wife, husband, son, daughter, brother, sister, or friend disappear when that role-shift takes place?
I've known numerous caregivers in my life. I was one. Before I became a caregiver, I was a daughter. Was I still a daughter once my role as a caregiver became a 24/7 occupation?
It didn't feel like it when:
No. I was his daughter.
I took on a variety of roles during the years of my father's decline with Alzheimer's, but I was always his daughter. As a matter of fact, never had I felt more like a daughter than during the five years of his illness.
During one of my walks in the park with dad, on his last Father's Day as it turned out to be, two young men rode their bikes toward us and as they got right up to us, one of the men said, "Happy Father's Day, Sir." That young man saw a daughter and a father, not a caregiver and an old man.
Dad took his parenting role very seriously. By the time I was on my own, he had been actively mentoring and caring for me for twenty-one years. Now at seventy-three years of age, I still consider his mentoring as the key to my success at trying to navigate adulthood.
What's five caregiver years in the grand scheme of things?
A privilege.
I've known numerous caregivers in my life. I was one. Before I became a caregiver, I was a daughter. Was I still a daughter once my role as a caregiver became a 24/7 occupation?
It didn't feel like it when:
- I had to cut up my father's food for him
- I had to pack adult protective clothing when I took him on a walk in the park ... just in case
- I had to correct him for behavior unbecoming of an adult
- I tucked him in for a nap so I could get things accomplished without him being tethered to me wherever I went ...
No. I was his daughter.
I took on a variety of roles during the years of my father's decline with Alzheimer's, but I was always his daughter. As a matter of fact, never had I felt more like a daughter than during the five years of his illness.
During one of my walks in the park with dad, on his last Father's Day as it turned out to be, two young men rode their bikes toward us and as they got right up to us, one of the men said, "Happy Father's Day, Sir." That young man saw a daughter and a father, not a caregiver and an old man.
Dad took his parenting role very seriously. By the time I was on my own, he had been actively mentoring and caring for me for twenty-one years. Now at seventy-three years of age, I still consider his mentoring as the key to my success at trying to navigate adulthood.
What's five caregiver years in the grand scheme of things?
A privilege.
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Irene Frances Olson
Author of Requiem for the status quo, a novel that celebrates and encourages family caregivers of those with Alzheimer’s or other dementia. You can find that book HERE. In her second novel, A Jagged Journey, Ms. Olson encourages all who have ever hit speedhumps and roadblocks in their personal life, whose opinions and judgments about others may have taken abrupt and unexpected turns, to evolve and arrive at a place where hurt begets joy, where smarts don’t necessarily equate to intelligence, and vulnerability guarantees increased strength. Seems impossible, doesn’t it? Her new novel will make a believer out of you. Ms. Olson authors a blog, www.babyboomersandmore.com, a multi-aged community of diverse interests that is also known as Living: the ultimate team sport. Her weekly contributions have been enjoyed by readers for more than ten years. |
