When our children were little, I recall an occasion when we secretly planned something we called “Operation: Secret Drop.” Whenever we would grocery shop, we’d let the kids pick out an extra item or two for someone else. We didn’t have a huge grocery budget ourselves, so just bought a few non-perishables every week. A few weeks later, we had a few Continue reading “Gifts Given in Secret”
Funny thing happened yesterday.
I was preparing supper in the kitchen while my mom and hubby chatted in the living room, when I overheard Mom say to my husband Wayne, “Are you a patient here too?” Wayne chuckled and responded, “No, I’m just a visitor.”
I had to stifle a laugh. It was so sweet. With that bit of in-house comedy came the realization that Mom’s perception of me as a caregiver (or herself as a “patient”) isn’t far from the truth. I may not have M.D. or R.N. following my name but, the fact remains, I do provide care.
In the course of my day, I was her “nurse” as I managed and dispensed her medications, her nurses aide when I helped her get cleaned up following an accident (then disinfected the bathroom), and her live-in dietitian when I made sure she ate food more nutritious than potato chips and ice-cream. Add to that the daily task of constantly helping my sweet mom with the mysteries of life (e.g. “Where’s my purse?”) or helping her remember the things we take for granted, like where the bathroom and bedroom are located.
When midnight rolled around, I was tuckered out and already in my makeshift bed (mom’s couch), but suspected my care-giving wasn’t quite over for the day when I heard the distinctive sound of mom grunting as she pushed her walker from her bedroom. She called out into the darkened living room, “Cindie, do you know where my toenail clippers are?”
“Yes, mom. Do you need help with something?”
Mom took a seat in her favorite chair just a few feet away, then switched on the tablelamp. Blinking back the abrupt brightness, I could see she was holding one shoe in her hand. Apparently her toenail was bothering her inside of her shoe and she was just not going to get any rest (nor would I) until that problem was remedied.
Like many elderly people, mom’s nails are very thick. A bit much for her arthritic hands to tackle. Taking my nailcare kit in hand, I sat on the floor with her foot in my lap and became her podiatrist. After clipping her bothersome nail, I trimmed a few others then lotioned her foot.
Momma loved the toenail TLC from her live-in care-giver and soon shuffled off to bed yet another time. Thankfully, she slept for 8 hours straight…and so did I.
Sleep seems sweeter when you know you’ve been a blessing to someone else.