Saturday, January 1, 2005
My mother almost made it to midnight last night...
...but not quite. So it surprised me that she awoke on her own at 1100 this morning. When I heard her reconnaissance cough and responded she was already maneuvering herself into a sitting position at the edge of the bed.
"Don't say anything until you say, 'rabbit rabbit,'" I reminded her.
"I already said it."
She was fairly crackling with energy this morning. Something about her mood prompted me to ask, while we were bathing her, "Are you very hungry this morning? Would you like 2 eggs instead of one?"
"I was just thinking I'd like 2 eggs! You're a mind reader."
I am. It's a skill I developed caring for someone as intensely as I care for my mother. Although it is, well, 'true', I suppose you could say, that our entire family shares what we have often referred to as 'psychic connections', I think, aside from the possibility that this may be the case for at least one of my sisters, in fact our entire family is made up of acute observers. Our family environment encouraged acute observation. Perhaps some of it is genetic. What I know is that all of us became highly skilled at innately acute observation to the point of us tending to explain it as psychic connections.
This is how the small but not insignificant rewards of caregiving sneak in through mindreading:
We shout, "Give us the funny material, give us the inspirational material! Keep everyone's spirits up!" Yet, it is the lack of revealed reality about caregiving that keeps us from addressing what we have made into the burdensome nature of caregiving in this society.
If you've been reading me long enough you know that I celebrate all aspects of caregiving and I celebrate them in context. If it's an exhilarating anecdote I sing inspiring anthems. If it's a difficult anecdote I sing the blues. Every anecdote, though, whether inspiring or troubling, deserves voice. If we voice only half the anecdotes we remain in no position to ever begin to honor and share the act of giving care and we ensure that we will remain a society who allows caregiving to remain a burden, in thought and in action.
"Don't say anything until you say, 'rabbit rabbit,'" I reminded her.
"I already said it."
She was fairly crackling with energy this morning. Something about her mood prompted me to ask, while we were bathing her, "Are you very hungry this morning? Would you like 2 eggs instead of one?"
"I was just thinking I'd like 2 eggs! You're a mind reader."
I am. It's a skill I developed caring for someone as intensely as I care for my mother. Although it is, well, 'true', I suppose you could say, that our entire family shares what we have often referred to as 'psychic connections', I think, aside from the possibility that this may be the case for at least one of my sisters, in fact our entire family is made up of acute observers. Our family environment encouraged acute observation. Perhaps some of it is genetic. What I know is that all of us became highly skilled at innately acute observation to the point of us tending to explain it as psychic connections.
This is how the small but not insignificant rewards of caregiving sneak in through mindreading:
- Knowing what someone wants before they express it and being able to provide for that need.
- Being in the position of having to extend care in ways that are annoying to the recipient (like me cleaning my mother's ass every morning and after every bowel movement) and being able to do it with such élan that you can get a laugh out of the recipient while performing the objectionable task.
- Knowing the One Cared For so well that you know when, say, a movie you really want to watch is not your loved one's cup of tea, explaining this ahead of time, not apologizing for it but begging the One Cared For's indulgence and getting not only their indulgence but realizing they are still capable of viewing something through another's (in this case, your) eyes and appreciating it from this perspective.
- Being able to read your Cared For One's energy level so well that you know when to push a not really appreciated suggestion and when to back off, and being thanked, whether silently or aloud,in a way you know is an expression of gratitude for knowing and acting on the difference.
We shout, "Give us the funny material, give us the inspirational material! Keep everyone's spirits up!" Yet, it is the lack of revealed reality about caregiving that keeps us from addressing what we have made into the burdensome nature of caregiving in this society.
If you've been reading me long enough you know that I celebrate all aspects of caregiving and I celebrate them in context. If it's an exhilarating anecdote I sing inspiring anthems. If it's a difficult anecdote I sing the blues. Every anecdote, though, whether inspiring or troubling, deserves voice. If we voice only half the anecdotes we remain in no position to ever begin to honor and share the act of giving care and we ensure that we will remain a society who allows caregiving to remain a burden, in thought and in action.
