That’s right !
I pit being a caregiver, all of it.
I hate it so much sometimes I just want to burst.
I pit the stroke that turned you into such a miserable old woman, I pit the urge to blame you for it by never addressing your morbid obesity. I pit how it grinds us down to hear you constantly complain, ‘Don’t take my covers off, that’s cold, don’t do this to me’. I pit that you’ve totally lost the ability to see how anything affects anyone but you.
I pit that your daughter is not your caregiver, as you would prefer. But she hasn’t offered, she was content when you were in that home. I pit that you hate respite care (short stay in a long term care facility) and cannot help but deride us for needing to use it. Knowing how much you suffer there keeps us from accessing it more, which is just wrong.
I pit that I haven’t slept in two nights, because you haven’t slept in two nights and that I’m sick with this cold, and that I’m frustrated with who you’ve become. I pit that nothing will please you, it seems. I pit that I cannot stop trying to please you. I pit that I am sometimes resentful. I pit that I can’t always meet this challenge with a sunny smile.
But mostly I pit that you can’t understand any of this, that you’re tired of hearing our worn out explanations for why we have to do your bodily maintenance.
I pit that you can’t understand, even after 5 + 1/2 yrs, that you’re not going to wake up one day and suddenly be healed and able to resume your old life, up on your feet and able to walk again. I pit that this causes each of your days to be filled with bitter disappointment and frustration.
I pit that for all the care we give you, you see us as torturers and not people who love you so much they could not do otherwise.
I pit all the people who think we are saintly for providing you such care, and I pit myself for finally breaking down and giving voice to these feelings, even if only on a bulletin board, it makes me feel vile. But it’s the early morning and everyone else is sleeping, I’m the only one up.
Oh, yeah, and another thing, I pit menopause which insures when I get up with you in the night, I’ll never get back to sleep. And I pit how you wake me and manage to fall back to sleep before I’ve even left the room (okay, not really that’s kind of a blessing, but since I’m being so petty I’ll leave it in.).
And I pit the pettiness this whole challenge sometimes produces in me.
Bleck, bleck and more bleck.
I don’t even know if I’m angry at you, at your fate, at myself, or maybe, at all the God’s of creation who let this happen to you. You deserve so much better an ending to your life than this long drawn out world of suffering and frustration.
(Thanks for listening.)