One Saturday morning
last year a woman by the name of Marie came to my support group in Largo,
Florida. She was the only person that
came that day and like I always say "Who
ever is suppose to be there, will."
The woman was very
distraught. Her mother had recently
passed away and she had moved here to care for
her dad, who was a really angry man. Her parents had moved here 3 months
earlier from Georgia and her mom died shortly after, very unexpectedly. She herself was single and experiencing some
financial problems so her brothers and
sisters figured it would be best for her to move and take care of dad. I call these women the "designated
daughters." She had never even visited Florida before
and was confused and lonely with no knowledge of the area or resources.
We talked for almost 2
hours that day and she became a regular at my support groups and
workshops.
A few months later, she
phoned me. "I have a story to tell you Linda and I am so excited."
Recently her sister had come to visit. She was very surprised to see how well her sister was adjusting
to her new role as caregiver.
"You look wonderful
! What are you doing?" Her sister
exclaimed.
"I have been
attending some support groups and workshops for caregivers.
Through them I have also
been able to find out about resources for dad." Marie answered.
"That's great." dad scowled.
They told me that I need
to take care of myself if I am going to be able to take care of dad so, one of
the things I do is go for a one hour walk every day. I don't care if it is hot
or even raining, I make sure I go for my walk."
Her dad sitting in his
wheelchair then muttered, "Well isn't that good for you ! It's nice somebody can
walk!"
Her sister replied,
"I came here to have a nice visit and if you are going to be so negative dad, then we
are going to talk in the other room."
"Go ahead, I don't
care!" the dad replied
The sisters went into
the next room but dad kept listening .
"One of the best
things I have been doing is attending a caregiver journaling group. I can get my feelings out in a non-judge
mental area. I can share if I want or I can keep it to
myself." Marie shared.
With that dad yelled
from the other room, "It's great, some one around here can get their feelings
out!"
"Dad, we are here
to help you in any way we can." The
sisters said in unison as they went to their dad's
side.
"Do you think you
would like to journal?" Marie asked.
"Maybe" he
replied.
They gave him a black
and white notebook. About an hour later
he wrote down one sentence. Three hours later he scribbled another
sentence. He did this on and off for three days.
On the fourth day he
handed them the book. "Here, now
you can see how I feel!"
The sisters open the
book and read.....
I am so tired.
I am so tired of being a
burden to my family.
I am so tired of taking
so many pills.
I am so tired of not
being able to go out.
I am so tired of not being
able to eat what I want... Etc, etc
The sisters felt heart
broken.
"Dad you're not a
burden to us. You held down three jobs
when we were kids to keep food on the
table. We want to take care of you in
any way we can."
"Maybe you are
taking too many pills. We will go to the
doctor with you and see what we can do about
this."
The sisters went through
the entire list acknowledging dad's feelings.
"Things have been
so much better with dad since then Linda.
In fact, he would like to know if he can
come to your next journaling workshop."
I was jumping for
joy. "Sure, bring him next
week."
The next week Marie
pushed her 90 year old dad, Joe in his wheelchair into the group. He was beaming. He shared with the group his first journal
entries and then proceeded to share
his new ones.....
"I am so glad I
have a family that loves and cares for me.
I am so glad I am not taking as many
pills. I am so glad when Marie goes for
her walk I can join her."
Yipeeeeeee!
Joe is now writing short
stories about his childhood. His family
loves hearing his stories and sharing
with him.
Please do not forget to
acknowledge the feelings of your loved one!
I guarantee it will make your
caregiving journey more joyful.
P.S. Joe is Italian and from Brooklyn and he
brought me the best meatballs I have ever eaten.