JOAN’S BLOG – WED/THUR, NOVEMBER 11/12, 2009 –IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS THAT ARE WEARING ME OUT

When I think about the physical caregiving burdens many of you carry, I feel a bit guilty discussing how tired I am. After all, I do not have to help my husband with any of his ADL’s. He dresses, shaves, eats, and showers independently. He is able to prepare a salad and sandwich. He is not incontinent. But the little things are wearing me out.

His brain is now surely covered in Teflon. Nothing sticks. Nothing. Which means that I cannot even write notes and lists anymore, because he forgets to look at them. I have to follow him around, tell him what to do, and make sure he does it immediately, or it will be forgotten. More alarming is the fact that he doesn’t seem to be “seeing” or “processing” an object (such as a paper with a list on it), even when it is right in front of his face.

Last week, I wrote a short list – two items, told him about it, left it on the counter next to his pills and glucose meter, and went out to do a few errands. I came home 2 hours later. He had checked his glucose level, had taken his pills, and had completely forgotten about the list. He said he did not see it. No, this was not "selective forgetfulness". I could tell by the confused look on his face, that he really did not "see" the list.

If I want him to fold the laundry, I have to put the basket in front of him, tell him to fold the clothes, and wait until he starts the task. If I leave him alone with the basket, he will forget what I said. I then have to return to him, tell him to put the clothes away, and follow him into the bedroom to make sure he is doing it. I may as well do it myself, except I am usually busy with another household or work task.

He cannot make assumptions or decisions, which means I have to tell him what to do, when to do it, and I need to explain it in the simplest of language, very slowly, or he does not understand what he is supposed to do.

I have learned not to tell him much of anything in advance anymore, because he just asks again and again and again where we are going, when we are going, and what we are going to be doing.

I do suppose my complaints pale in comparison to having to bathe, dress, shave, feed, and change diapers for someone who is a foot taller than me, but these little things are piling up and tiring me out. Maybe it is my recent illness that is taking forever to improve, that has me so cranky and weary.

If I am run down from these little things, I wonder how I will ever cope with the physical demands of caregiving. I know my limits, and I am not willing to die in the caregiving line of duty. I am afraid this is one caregiver who is going to have to find the funds to hire a lot of help.

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