Morning Thoughts: December 9, 2017

It was my turn for caretaking last evening. My wife went our condo in Little Rock and I stayed at the farm with mother-in-law. Started out rough. I had to issue some demerits for untoward behavior. Didn’t work. Then I tried shame. “You promised us you would behave.”

“I had my fingers crossed,” with a mischievous smile. Then she sang “Santo Claus is Coming To Town,” for the 32^nd time that day. Next, we went through the litany of what each sibling was doing. They have all died, but we went through the list again anyway, for the fourth or fifth time that day.

It’s challenging, caring for someone who’s memory has deserted them. On the one hand, it is pleasant to think they are being cared for and that they are comfortable, well-fed, and free from work and worry. On the other hand, it’s like looking through a window toward a magnificent view that is blocked by a thick and permanent layer of fog. The beauty is there, somewhere, but we’ll never see it again.

There was only one thing left to do last night. That was to play our favorite game, the one that we play when we are alone. I call it “Name That Hymn,” and it works like this. I love playing the guitar, although I’m not very good at it at all. Old church hymns lend themselves to the finger-picking style that I’ve been trying to master for 40 years with very little result. I am to the point, though, that the hymns I play are recognizable to someone who grew up with them.

So I play. She listens, and tries to identify the song, hence the name of the game. Last night she was “in the zone.” Didn’t miss a one. That’s remarkable for someone who can’t remember that her own father passed away nearly 50 years ago.

Sometimes she’ll perseverate for a short time in naming the hymn. That’s a medical term from the root “persevere,” and it refers to “getting stuck” on some thought. When it happens, every song might be “In the Sweet By and By,” for a while. Last night, though, she moved right through from “I’ll Fly Away,” to “The Soul of Man,” batting a thousand. I couldn’t even fool her with seculars like “Maggie,” or “The Old Spinning Wheel.” And remembered more of the words to “Grandfather’s Clock” than I did.

It was a splendiferous time, all in all. Then my fingers got sore and we watched “Scrooge.”

I read somewhere that they are using music help ease the symptoms and pain of dementia. I hope so. I’ve been trying it. I caught her once listening to some hymns being sung on YouTube. I videoed a short segment, and spent two days fiddling with Adobe Premier Pro (a highly complicated and confusing profession film-making software), just to pass the time and exercise my own brain. Here it is, an altogether amateurish and rocky piece of work but, most of all, an act of love. That helps with most things.

Morning Thoughts: November 26, 2017

Had an interesting experience the other day while taking my turn at caregiving. Our ward doesn’t care much for television as a rule. She says she never “got to watch it” although we both remember her calling us on Saturday nights years ago to make sure we were watching Are You Being Served? on “Channel Two.” Woe unto us if we weren’t.

Anyway, day before yesterday, I walked in and flipped on the TV to find the marvelous film adaptation of Betty Smith’s famous A Tree Grows in Brookland had just started on the classic movie station.

Apparently, my wife had told her mother what was on, so she came in briskly and let me know that, not only was A Tree Grows In Brookland on, but that she had seen it before and remembered it. Further, she was just going to sit down and watch it again with me.

And she did. Small victories make the trials of caregiving worthwhile.

Morning Thoughts: November 4, 2017

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of caregiving. My friends know why. It is a duty and gift that can drain and inspire, both at once. This is so true when one is discussing the care of the elderly.

It is not an easy thing to do. It is one of those challenges that, as described by my Sainted Mother, “you just have to back your ears and do it.”

The medical profession defines “caregiving” as: "… the act of providing unpaid assistance and support to family members or acquaintances who have physical, psychological, or developmental needs. Caring for others generally takes on three forms: instrumental, emotional, and informational caring. Instrumental help includes activities such as shopping for someone who is disabled or cleaning for an elderly parent. Caregiving also involves a great deal of emotional support, which may include listening, counseling, and companionship. Finally, part of caring for others may be informational in nature, such as learning how to alter the living environment of someone in the first stages of dementia.”

We modern Americans differ on the concept. Some, in agreement with the current Catholic Pope, stick to the ancient admonition that we should minister to those who mourn or are poor in spirit, and that we should be merciful to others and makers of peace. Others of us don’t.

Historians of Christianity, from what I’ve read, attribute a strong allegiance to caregiving among the early Christians. It seems that they were known for their strong sense of concern for the welfare of one another. Further, mercy and compassion, it seems, formed strong components of that caregiving.

I’m talking here of the very earliest of Christians, when the movement was still a cult. It existed before (1) the writings of Saul of Tarsus, later “the Apostle Paul,” (2) the writings of the gospels, (3) the selection and arrangement of the gospels by a bunch of elderly men self-appointed to the task, (4) the design of a male-dominated and hegemonic administrative structure to carry out the intents of the latter so-called “Christians,” and (5) the ultimate epochal movements that allowed individual reading and interpretation of Christianity’s most sacred texts.

Each of us is free to form our own analysis and opinion concerning the evolution of Christianity and its acceptance of the ancient warning to care for “the least of those among us.”

Let us return to the medical definition of caregiving. I’m struck by the passage that “caregiving also involves a great deal of emotional support, which may include listening, counseling, and companionship.” Until one has found themselves, their friends, or their families in the position of caregiving, one can’t appreciate the toll that it takes on the giver. Ofttimes, that person needs caregiving as much as the actual patient. Perhaps that is why such a large portion of America’s population chooses not to be bothered.

There is a temptation to compare providing care to the elderly to providing care for children. “They took care of you when you were young. You take care of them when they get old.” While it is true that some demands, such as tending the very helpless, maintaining constant vigilance, and the testing of patience are similar, one difference hovers over the process like a cloud over a lonely mountain. The care of a child can lead to a brighter future, a family, and a treasure trove of waiting memories: achievements, graduations, weddings, and careers.

The care of the elderly leads “only to the grave.”

The world's best caregiver