That is the usual plight of the family caregiver. Every day, I wake up thinking I'm going to take on the world. I have so many goals to accomplish. I have my "to do" list prioritized. But then real life takes over.
Short and sweet. Fifteen minutes here. Twenty minutes there. It's the only way I can juggle all of the tasks, errands, and chores of my day and night as a family caregiver.
I was talking to a high school classmate the other day. She admitted she struggles with this issue too. She has her own house forty minutes from her mother's. Back and forth she goes, taking care of meals, the house, and other assorted issues.
How best to describe a typical day for a family caregiver? It's like "Groundhog Day" over and over again. And again. And again. And again....
She asked me if I do a lot of cooking. I looked at her and laughed. I cook, but like a restaurant chef. I only make dishes that take me less than fifteen minutes to prepare. I don't have time to do elaborate meals, although I'm a good cook. I don't have time to fuss. My mind is set on fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there.
Even when I pull the crockpot out to make my own spaghetti sauce, it only takes me fifteen minutes to chop my ingredients, pop the lids on the cans of tomatoes, and add my herbs and spices. Sure, it cooks for hours, but it doesn't need my help. And the best part is that I use what I need and freeze the rest for another night.
I learned that I can throw together a single apple tartlet with a quarter wedge of a Pillsbury pie crust, an apple, some sugar and spices, and a little butter. I peel and chop that apple like nobody's business, while the rest of my dinner is in the oven. Peach cobbler? No problem. I mix flour, old-fashioned oats, brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon together for a topping to go on a chopped, spiced, sugared, and floured peach. My dad gets to have a nice dessert that is still warm from the oven. The aroma is lovely, but it takes me less than fifteen minutes to prepare. Nom-nom-nom.
I break up my work day by squeezing my father's priorities into my schedule. What is on his "to do" list? Am I taking him to a medical appointment, the bank, or Town Hall? What task does he need to accomplish today?
And what is he going to do for socialization? Usually, we walk the dog in the park. It gives him exercise and the chance to chat with people. It helps him feel connected to this world. That's fifteen minutes well spent for both of us. The dog enjoys it too.
But I also have to take care of the house and yard, in between dealing with insurance issues, prescriptions, the technical glitches with his current project (oh, those pesky formatting problems are going to drive me bonkers!), and other assorted conundrums that seem to trip me up just when I am hitting my stride.
So I focus on fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there. These little snippets of time allow me to create some semblance of sanity in the middle of an unpredictable and chaotic day. They allow me to dedicate serious time to my own work, so I can pay my bills, while still getting things done that need to get done.
You can't really call this glamorous work. This week, I tackled the mouse problem. In an old house that was built in the 1700's, it's not unusual to have the little critters creeping into the little nooks and crannies of the old root cellar, and from there, making their way up to the kitchen. But I refuse to share space with them. When I found they had invaded the insulation in the basement and used it for a comfy mouse house, I ripped it out, set traps, and began to evict them. As soon as I have controlled the rodent population, I will install mouse repellent, because I don't want to have to go through this all winter long. I admit this chore took me longer than fifteen minutes to accomplish, but I did it in fifteen-minute increments, breaking the task up over the day. Fifteen minutes for the hardware store. Fifteen minutes for the cleaning, heavy-duty disinfecting, and trap-setting.
Sometimes, when I finally get around to moving a chore up on my "to do" list, it makes me laugh. Today was no exception. I had a few minutes at the beginning of my day and used them to tidy up the laundry room. Lo and behold, that laundry cart caught my eye, with all its dust. I admit that, unlike my late mother, I don't fuss with laundry issues. Everything I need to wash a load is right there on the top shelf.
Imagine my surprise when I wheeled out that little cart and found all the laundry doodads my mom left behind when she went to that big, fluffy, pristinely white cloud in the sky. She had ammonia, glass cleaner, bleach pens, and stain sticks there, collecting dust. I found a whole bottle of Febreze, half a box of Snowy Bleach, measuring cups, and lots of those sample packets that you get in your Sunday newspaper or at the grocery store, some of which had exploded all over the shelf. Yes, they do apparently expire eventually....
It felt good to throw out all of the items I don't use. But I admit that seeing my mom's handwritten note on the half-empty bottle of Resolve made me pause. I might as well find a use for that.
I did, however, dump the mega box of baking soda. I think that after seven years, there's not much pizzazz left in the powder.
I got it all cleaned up in fifteen minutes. And yes, I will go back to just using the top shelf of the cart. That's the reality for a busy family caregiver. But that's okay. I got to laugh, thinking about my mom looking down and shaking her head in wonder at my laundry skills. She would have appreciated my "fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there" philosophy. In fact, I think she would have come to embrace it. Every time a busy family caregiver chips away at the "to do" list, it helps to maintain the balance between work, home, and family. We can't do it all, so we prioritize. It's how we build a little success into every day.
The challenges of caring for a loved one can sometimes seem insurmountable. But when you are able to find the balance between meeting your own goals as a person and caring for your loved one, it all becomes doable. You should never lose yourself in the chaos and confusion of caring. Whenever you start to lose sight of your own goals and your goals as a family caregiver, break down the tasks into manageable units of "fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there." You might be amazed at how much you can accomplish.
And don't forget to reward yourself with a break. Grab a cup of tea and sit a bit. Go for a walk around the block and clear your head. Fifteen minutes here, twenty minutes there....
