For as long as I can remember, I've been someone who tries to anticipate future situations where something bad can potentially happen and base my decisions around setting conditions so the likelihood of those situations happening would be slim to none.
I think most people are like that, trying to head off conflict/hurt/pain well in advance, but when you're a caregiver you learn to fine-tune that ability.
It's something I watched my mom do for years with my dad, setting things up around the house to minimize the chances of him bumping into something or falling.
But there were other things she did as well, like trying to get him not to crunch down on things that were too hard, like ice. My dad had had a lot of dental work done previously and even though they both liked their dentist, he hated going to the dentist's office, and she was well aware of that fact.
Her concerns were that a situation would arise where he'd need the work repaired. And she knew if that happened, she'd have to convince him to go the dentist (which was a tall order), then would have to worry about the logistics of getting him there, and then would have to get money out of savings to get the (expensive) work done since Medicare and their supplemental insurance didn't cover dental work.
They battled back and forth on this for years. He'd eat something that was hard/tough, she'd ask him to be careful, and he grew resentful of it, feeling like he couldn't do something as simple as eat without being told what/how to do it. Though my mom wasn't trying to dictate his every move, it certainly seemed that way to him.
Eventually, she stopped worrying about it, concluding that with everything else he had going on healthwise, she wasn't going to keep after him too much about his dental work. My dad was slowly coming to terms with the loss of most of his independence, and my mom understood that more as time went on and adjusted her care routine for him accordingly. On some things, she let go of the micromanagement and tried to rest in the moment without worrying too much about the future.
In my role as her caregiver, I have struggled hard with this. Part of the reason for the struggle is in the dynamics.
With mom caregiving for dad, it was a spouse taking care of their spouse. In our situation, however, there are the role reversals, with me, her daughter, taking care of her instead of mom doing the mom thing like most moms do in watching over/caring for their children 24-7.
As one might expect, that has brought about some butting of heads, with mom occasionally reminding me that hey, you're the daughter here, and me reminding her that I'm not just her daughter now but also her caregiver and that I'm trying to make decisions in her best interests.
But as she did with my dad, I micromanage the environment to the extent I can. For example, I remind her daily that she still needs to get up and move around to the extent she can but to be smart about it and not overdo it.
Mom likes to do everything at one time when she is up and around and then wants to sit down for long stretches, and I've suggested to her that she do things piecemeal so she can get up periodically and get the blood flowing and the heart pumping some rather than wear herself out by trying to do it all at once.
She sometimes goes by my suggestions on that and sometimes not, and it's an almost daily thing between us.
On our way to my sister's house for Christmas lunch on Monday, I found myself advising Mom to be careful with the hugging and touching of things and to make sure she sanitized her hands before she ate.
With everything she went through with the colon cancer and the chemo, it took a toll on her body, and her getting sick would be really hard for her, so my thought was to minimize the possibility of that happening.
In response to my request in the car, I got the "Okay, honey," answer, which was mom-speak for "I'm humoring you on this right now but I'm going to do what I want to today," which I understood.
And it made me think about the micromanaging thing some more and ways I could try and adjust how I did things so I wasn't overstepping and hovering too much.
Mom is 80 and wants to enjoy life in her golden years while she still can. She still wants to be Mom and do all the mom things. I can't expect her to sanitize her hands every time she holds someone's hand, and I certainly can't expect her to hold back on the length of the hugs she gives my sisters and brothers-in-law.
As the country learned at the height of the COVID pandemic, isolating seniors in nursing homes from their loved ones turned out to be detrimental to their emotional and in some cases mental health. And while that's certainly not what I've been doing with her, it hit me Monday that when it came to family and get-togethers they needed to be about as close to "normal" for her as they have been throughout her time as a mom. Because without that, my mom would lose who she is, and that would be devastating for her and me.
We never stop learning and having to make adjustments in life from time to time, and I am certainly no exception to that rule. In her own way Monday, Mom reminded me of a lesson she learned during her time caring for my dad: Figure out how to rest in the moment and to let some things go.
It's easier said than done, but it's one of my New Year's resolutions, and one I hope I can abide by in the months ahead.
Related VIP reading-->> Caregiver's Diary Part 2: Learning to Accept the Things You Can't Change
