Caregiver Guilt

It's been a difficult week and month. First, my mother's only sister passed away in California, bringing many flashes of mom's final illness and death in 2010. I can't imagine the recent pain of my niece and her husband as they dealt with all the caregiving and final arrangements without the support of siblings. They are to be commended for their brave decisions and actions these last terribly busy weeks. I pray for comfort in their grief as they try to take up their normal duties at home now.

Besides all the feelings that came with my aunt's passing, I've also been trying to ignore my own feelings of guilt. There, I've said it. It's definitely guilt. I feel guilty for not being happy over Dean's improvement in health since we stopped one of his medicines.

The simple fact is that he was much easier to care for when he was sleeping most of the day and wasn't having any emotional outbursts. Sure, he was having vivid dreams and even hallucinations, and had much more memory loss. His overall health and strength seemed to be slipping away. I was terribly worried about him and it took a second opinion of another specialist to pinpoint what the problem was.

But now that he's back to his ol' ornery self, I find myself wistfully wanting him back in "la-la land". It's a selfish wish for sure, but if I totally come clean and confess, maybe I can quit feeling sorry for myself. There are joys in this difficult task of caregiving. I just have to look for them again.

Taken this Easter Sunday, at our in-laws' church...a joyful occasion!

What Pain?

My foot is still so swollen and bruised that you would have a hard time believing me if I told you it didn't hurt. My nephew just came home from work, on the other hand, and revealed how bad his back was hurting from his job all day. But you wouldn't know he was in pain unless he told you. Pain can be pretty invisible, except for the person experiencing it.

There's one kind of pain that none of us will ever have to suffer though. And that is the pain that Jesus felt on the cross. Not the physical pain. Because martyrs down through the ages, and even in some parts of the world today, are called upon to endure unbelievable physical torment.

I'm talking about the emotional and mental pain. To carry the guilt of the entire world could only have been done by the Lord Himself. He died the death we all deserve since sin came to this planet. Imagine the most horrible crime and the guilt that must accompany it, multiplied by every person who has or ever will live. And the Bible says He was quiet about it, "...he opened not his mouth..." Isaiah 53:7. It was miraculous that He carried all that guilt and shame for us, but equally miraculous how He carried it.

I'm not saying that we should never share our suffering with others, to just be quiet about it, but let's remember that there are those around us who are suffering in silence. Let's be especially sensitive to their private pain when possible. And every time we alleviate suffering for anybody, it's as if we are doing it for Jesus, who not only bore our sins, but our pain too. Matthew 25:30.

True Compassion

Some of you may remember a blog I posted a few days ago about my toddler moment. As opposed to senior moments, these absences from sanity can occur at any age. But tonight was my husband's turn to exhibit the temper of a toddler. His performance was characterized by a low frustration tolerance, followed by an overreaction that had the appearance of a toddler's clenched fists and kicking feet. Trust me, it doesn't look good on a 66-year-old man. But we generally forgive his frequent outbursts, knowing it's just the dementia talking.

Ever since my episode with toddlerhood the other day, I have a new appreciation for the horrible guilt and embarrassment these lapses cause you to feel. I know Dean still has those feelings too, due to the fact that he almost always apologizes for his blowups, even the ones he can't remember, which I call  his blanket apologies. This realization of how it felt for me after my episode helps me have more patience in dealing with him when he gets disagreeable. Knowing he's not comfortable with the way he's acting either, I can have patience and true compassion for what he struggles with.

Didn't Jesus say on the cross, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do."? Talk about compassion. The least I can do is share it with one brain-injured survivor named Dean, who often doesn't know what he's doing when he gets mad.