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Make a list and hand it out!

Recently I made up a Caregiver To-Do list and to my surprise, audiences ate it up. It’s a simple notepad where you get to write down what you need help with. And then give it away when people ask, “What can I do for you?”

Let me know if you think this would more easily allow you ask for help.

Or tell me where you struggle in asking for help. People want to lend a hand, they just need to know what you need.

 

 

For the love of food

If we didn’t take seconds when my Grandma Jo offered, her classic response was, “Fine, I guess I won’t make this meal again.” She consistently told us we were too skinny. And at times, if we didn’t want to try something, she would shame us by saying, “Good, more for the rest of us.” The family all knew that food was love when it came to Grandma Jo.

It was almost the opposite with my other grandmother. Grandma Gladys didn’t like to eat. She had nearly rotten teeth! She liked saltines with butter, pie at the local post office cafeteria, and considered a glass of milk to be dinner. As a little girl, I preferred the ease of enjoying decadent butter (we used margarine growing up) on salty crackers to fighting for Grandma Jo’s love by overeating.

Meal times in senior housing are daily events. Sometimes the food is good, but most often, adult children hear regular complaints about institutional food—there’s too much, it’s over cooked, it’s underdone, it’s too fancy, etc. Years ago I asked a group of elder care specialists what they would want if they lived in senior housing. Good coffee was the answer; Starbucks on every floor! I see mealtimes in senior housing from both sides. As a manager, it’s challenging (and costly) to have both flexible eating times and a wide variety. Obviously it’s much easier to “feed the masses” in restricted time frames with a set menu.

For some, mealtimes are the only time they leave their room or apartment. It’s community time, time for sharing during a meal. Most people agree that it’s much more enjoyable to make food for two versus one. But what if you’re caring for someone who can’t express their food wishes? I often wonder about my friend with YOAD (Young Onset Alzheimer’s). One time when I was with him, I asked, “Do you want a Peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” and his eyes lit up and he shook his head and said, “yes,” while grinning.

If food is love, then while we care for someone, we need to remember their history of likes and dislikes. For some folks, Cheerios can be dinner, once in a while. Not every meal is a success. Sometimes I burn a meal and resort to a can of soup or a simple salad. That’s okay, too.

One of the hardest things to give up is food—both for your loved one and for you. In the last days of my mom’s life, she was not interested in food. My sister tried desperately to get her to eat, until the Hospice nurse said, “She really doesn’t need to eat….” There are times when not eating, but rather sitting with a loved one, is filling enough.

This piece originally appeared in Girlfriend’s Magazine earlier this summer.

How to turn around a bad day

You know those days: You get in your car and hear a new noise (after just paying a hefty repair bill); you drive past your chiropractor’s new place five times before calling to have them describe their location; the pharmacy can’t find your new prescription, and your favorite coffee shop is closed due to illness.

These are what some people label “First World Problems”—They’re pesky, irritating, but not life threatening. They are just the type of issues that can take up precious space in one’s brain, derailing an otherwise sweet day.

Caregivers have to not only juggle their own “bad days,” but many have to learn how to recognize when their loved one is having tough time. This is not easy from a practical standpoint, let alone an emotional one. We see someone suffering and we want to “fix” their issue.

My grandpa Floyd hated to see us cry. He would swoop us up, make funny faces, wipe our tears and say, “It’s all right. No need to cry.” But sometimes a person just needs to cry, and this includes someone with Alzheimer’s or Parkinson’s disease, or someone in pain.

I wrote in The Unexpected Caregiver, “Through music, we can acknowledge that it’s okay for them [the person to whom we’re giving care] to feel sad, recognize why they’re feeling sad and then help them move through the sadness.”

Give it a try: if you are having a tough day, put on a sad song to match your mood, and then with each new song, pick up the tempo. Music can be your ticket to turning around a bad day for you or your loved one.

Big Adventures and Unexpected Challenges

My mother was fixated on the idea of all her children being as Norwegian as possible. She claimed she was 100% Norwegian. She repeatedly told her kids that even though they had some Czech and Swedish from Dad, it was the Norwegian part that counted

She was not always an easy woman to be with, but I realized early on that the way to my mother’s good side was to fall in love with all things Norwegian. I went to St. Olaf College and by the end of my junior year, I was off to study in Norway. From then on, Norwegian was an integral part of my life—
from teaching the language to leading tours to the country. And now I live in Norway. Mom’s got to be dancing in heaven!

After 30 years, I reconnected with my college sweetheart. It didn’t take us long to figure out that we wanted to be together. Trouble was, I had a busy and active life in the States and he lived in Norway. He was a well-established American expat with two grown daughters. He enjoyed his career and wasn’t looking to start anew in the States. For me to take the leap and move to Norway seemed a cinch, a no brainer.

It was also a bit unbalancing. Even though my work has always been mobile, I still have a support system in Minnesota. Skype, email and other social media make it easier to live abroad, but there’s no substitute for hanging out in a kitchen and chatting about this and that with one’s friends.

I needed to find Support (the first letter in my SANE Method™) so I hopped on a bus and joined a  local dance class. I started opening up to Norwegian friends and made time to develop new expat friends. I sought out support. It’s the first step I take whenever I’m embarking on something new or difficult. I can’t do life alone. Even when, by all outward appearances, everything looks divine, I need support.

I chose this big adventure, and I know some of you make a choice to have your mom or dad come live with you so you can be their caregivers. We make choices for all the right reasons, but we also have to give ourselves a break and reach out when we need help. It’s the only way we can tackle big adventures, live and thrive through the unexpected challenges of our lives.

This blog first appeared as an article in my regular column in Southern Minnesota Girlfriends magazine, Spring 2018.

Here’s how I took a moment for myself today

I needed something different this morning. The pressure of the mushrooming to-do list almost stopped me, but instead, I played a game with myself. I picked up Roger Housden’s “Ten Poems to Change Your Life” and randomly opened to “Ode to my Socks” by Pablo Neruda, translation by Stephen Mitchell (pdf link below). I’m familiar with this one, but as with most poetry, something new awakened in me this morning.

Pablo Neruda has the capacity to celebrate the things right in front of us. I have had an affinity with this poem in the past because my feet are covered in papery-thin skin. I have my dad’s feet; we’re identical feet twins. Socks are important to me and I wear good socks—especially hiking or working in the woods.

But that’s not what this poem is about. Neruda reminded me to slow down and take a moment. Breathe in what is around me and celebrate it. Stop for one moment, shut off my critical mind-chatter telling me to “get going,” and appreciate the everyday, normal things. Like socks.

So I sat on the porch, closed my eyes and listened—a variety of bird voices, an airplane far above, the buzz of a bee circling me, cow bells in the distance, the rustle of the birch leaves—just for a moment.

I thought of my S.A.N.E. Method™  for caregivers, “This is Appreciation—to take time for oneself, even if just a moment.” (And believe me, I fought a little with myself over taking this time. We have a list, after all! It needs to be accomplished!) But the gift I received from this moment was just like an inexpensive trip to the spa. I feel more settled, grateful and have a renewed sense of energy.

Today I took a moment for Appreciation; this is what I want family caregivers to do. Find some small amount of time and instead of falling into the habit of another glass of wine (if that’s your thing) or one more episode of your favorite sitcom (believe me, I enjoy getting lost in the familiar characters, too), do something that shakes you up, something you don’t normally do. Or something that you simply want to try. What you gain from your moment will be different from what I found, but I trust you will receive a bit of mind rest. And that could make all the difference in your day.

Ode to My Socks

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