What I learned about me
The day my car died, I learned an important lesson about myself. And about the elders I serve. In fact, about life in general.
My car began to reach that unfortunate stage where it was costing me money. You’ve all been there. You pay for “one last repair” and make the optimistic statement, “It will last one more year.” You don’t have anything saved, but this next year you’ll set aside money every pay, and next year you can purchase a new vehicle. Optimism prevails.
And crashes. Before your next pay, something major and expensive goes wrong, and you read the writing on the wall. You need a new vehicle.
I experienced this a week before vacation a few years ago. I wasn’t taking my car when travelling, but I had a list of errands before going and no way to accomplish them. The dog needed kibbles. I didn’t have enough shorts to last a week. I had to get a few special food items. Everywhere I turned, I banged into the frustration of not having my car. Or my independence.
That’s when I learned I’m more independent than I thought. My anxiety climbed with each errand that required strategy, organization and begging favours. Even though it was only for a few weeks, it seriously annoyed me.
What I learned about the loss of independence
Then I thought of the residents I serve. Their lack of independence often starts with the loss of the ability to drive, but not for a few weeks–permanently. As they age their losses are compiled. Sight. Hearing. Mobility. Cognitive function. Toileting. I’m struck with the grace and patience with which they face each new challenge.
I remember a special resident who was blind. She saw only vague shadows and followed her sighted friend to activities. She sometimes stated in the most matter-of-fact way, “I can’t see” but she never complained. Her sense of humour was intact, and when I’d compliment her on her way back from the hairdresser, she’d chuckle and say, “I’ll take your word for it.”
When I grow up, I want to be her, facing losses and disabilities with grace and humour, and never complaining.
Remind me I said this.
What we can all learn
I have chronic arthritis, and it has surprises for me every day. Today I might feel a stinging in my right knee, and tomorrow my right shoulder protests. My left hip might cause me to hobble, or maybe my ankle stabs me with a hot poker as I commute to work. My pace is often slowed by these tribulations. As I deliberately traverse the many stairs, I hear small exclamations of disgust behind me. Some rush around and that’s fine. It’s the ones who stay behind and make their presence known with frustrated sighs who get to me. I have many speeches for them in my head.
Slow down. As a care partner, look and listen to your loved one, and learn. Their pace is different, their challenges many.
But if you watch and listen, you may learn about grace.
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Care Partner Wednesday–The Agony and Inspiration of Elders Losing Independence
Credits: photo of red Saturn ion https://www.redlineforums.com/forums/attachments/buy-sell-cars/16118d1325750279-sale-2005-saturn-ion-red-line-ion-1.jpg
meme: https://bemorewithless.com