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Archive for the ‘pets’ Category

Life lessons are everywhere, and I was recently reminded of what it’s like to be a caregiver by my two dogs–Kismet and Rupert. Kizzy (short for Kismet) is an Alaskan Malamute and her son, Rupert who is part lab. (She had a tryst in the front yard before we could stop her). Miracle was, she only had one puppy–so we had to keep him. Miracle number two was that Rupert was born the very week of the anniversary of my mom’s passing.

Recently, I was sitting outside with the two of them, their leashes attached to my lawn chair (they love to romp the neighborhood if set loose), only Kizzy wanted to go inside. It was a cool, there was a breeze, she had a water fountain next to her to drink out of, I was there to pet her and we had a beautiful lake and birds galore to enjoy–but no–she would have none of that. She wanted inside.

Kizzy strained and strained. Whined. Wouldn’t sit down and relax and enjoy being petted or play ball–nothing. Rupert, on the other hand is less stubborn, more easy going by nature, and so he  was sprawled out beside me just as comfortable as he could be.

Both dogs were in the same place, under the same circumstances.

One was miserable. One was content. It was simply an attitude on both of their parts.

As I sat there, I thought of how some caregivers–or care receivers don’t want to be where life has brought them. Whether it’s pleasant or unpleasant isn’t even the point. They simply don’t want to be there. Period. They strain. Whine. Refuse to become a part of their environment and just enjoy the ride.

Others bloom where they’re planted. They adjust, adapt, make new friends, look around,  and figure hey, if they’re going to be there they might as well make the most of it.

Attitude.

I’m not saying that caregiving isn’t hard. Lord knows I know how hard it is. My mom had Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s,and in those last three years, I was Kizzy straining on the end of my very short leash.

I know now that I was scared. I was afraid my mother or that caregiving would consume me. I was afraid that if I was okay with it, that I’d never get to leave–or quit. I was afraid I’d never have a moment  to myself. I was afraid I was losing my indepence. Afraid. Afraid. Afraid.

Kismet, by the way, means fate.

I know that at times, I made it harder than it needed to be by not asking for and accepting more help, by realizing what a gift caregiving was (ironic gift), and by not seeing the beauty of where I was in my life. I missed certain opportunities by resisting so hard.  

If you’re miserable, edgy, antsy and irratated, ask yourself why?

At first, it’ll seem obvious–you’re exhausted, frustrated, sleep deprived, and perhaps dealing with a fussy loved one or facing death.

Ask yourself again–why are you miserable?

Keep asking until you get at the heart of the matter.

Ask yourself until you run out of excuses.

Why are you where you are?

Because it’s exactly where you need to be.

~Carol D. O’Dell

Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir

available on Amazon

www.mothering-mother.com

Family Advisor at www.Caring.com

Syndicated Blog at www.OpentoHope.com

www.Kunati.com, Publishers

 

 

 

 

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Caregiving is complex.

Many family situations are a continuation of a long, tangled history.

There are stubborn siblings, financial headaches, cantankerous parents, emotional memories kicked back up, frustrating home heath aides, and confusing health insurance concerns. This is just the surface–throw in worries like a naked, wandering Alzheimer’s loved one, your mother feels cheated on (or is cheating) while her husband is in a facility and no longer remembers any of you, your home health aide stole your wedding ring (you suspect), you lost your health insurance and have to go back to work, but how? Or maybe your mother is like mine and kicks your cat or your partner says caregiving is killing you and insists you give them attention too.

I know how hard it is to find safe, how challenging it is to find reliable help, or you get into a big fight with your dad (and your neighbor) because he ran over your neighbor’s dog and he still refuses to give up driving. Some questions go even deeper–you’ve become hooked on pain meds to compensate for your back from all the lifting and you’re fighting depression, or just how bone-deep scary it is to think that you have to decide whether or not to stop life support and you’re afraid all your family will blame you for not doing enough…the list goes on.

I”m now a “Family Advisor” on www.Caring.com, and these are just some of the types of issues families write about.

It’s not that I’m a know-it-all or that questions always have neat little answers, but I’ll do my research and offer suggestions that are not just technically correct but delve into the heart of the matter. Relationships are not cut and dry, and it’s not easy to just make a decision and carry it out–not when there are other family members involved who may not agree with you–and not when even the decisions that you have to make aren’t easy to deal with emotionally.

Life can’t always be “fixed,” but I’ll do everything I can to offer some valid help and direction as well as support you, the caregiver/spouse/friend. It won’t be cut and dry either. Humor, spunk, and tenacity are great weapons people forget they have, and sometimes we have to use guerrilla tactics to get anything done, but when integrated with love and commitment serendipity can occur.  I won’t sugar coat caregiving either, or wrap it up and slap a bow on it, or belittle the guilt or everyday stresses can just get under your skin.

I know how all this eats away at what fragile hope you have remaining.

By writing a question (even anonymously), you are asking not only Caring.com for advice, you open the window for opportunity. I firmly believe that by simply asking the question you start to attract the answers/solutions. By verbalizing your fears, frustrations and concerns, you can then begin to visualize how this can be solved or at least some of the tension relieved.

You’ll feel less alone. You have options.

If you know of anyone who is in an emotional or ethical quandry consider suggesting Caring.com.

They have sections for all types of care–mental illness, cancer, MS, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, and many other points of connection.

Caregivers need every resource they can get their hands on–in their community and on the Internet.

I hope that my book, my blog, and now this family advisor column will help you feel less isolated and show you that you’re not alone. You’re surrounded by people who care.

~Carol D. O’Dell

Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir

available on Amazon

www.mothering-mother.com

www.kunati.com

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Caregiving isn’t exactly synonymous with a spicy love life–not until now. Maybe a passionate love life is just what the doctor ordered…

 

Dr. Christine Northrup, Oprah’s gynecologist on speed dial and author of Women’s Bodies, Women’s Wisdom, and the Wisdom of Menopause suggests that you spend 30 minutes three time a week in “self love.”

(Yes, that’s right. We’re talking about the M word)

Now, I can only speak for myself here, but unless “self love” includes eating a bag of Dove chocolates, painting my toenails and thumbing through a magazine, I’m going to have about 27 minutes to kill.

 

It’s not like I have to woo myself or assure myself that I’ll respect me in the morning…

 

As a caregiver, mother, daughter, sandwich generationer, pet “mom,” I have to tell you, thirty uninterrupted minutes is hard to come by.
(pah dum,dum)

 

I figure I can blog about this if Oprah can discuss it at 4:00 in the afternoon while I’m making chicken pot pie.

Besides, a healthy love life is important–and most of us would rather “play with others,” so let’s take the leap.

 

Why bother? You haven’t got time? You have no drive?

You’re beyond exhausted? You’ll deal with “that” later?

 

Here’s why it’s crucial: 

 

Being a passionate person spills over into everything in your life–how you dress, walk, what you choose to eat, how generous you are with your time and energies, how affectionate you are to all living creatures–not to mention the effects giving and receiving love has on your heart, immune system, psychological, emotional and spiritual foundation.

 

Here’s a few tips for revving up the ole’ love life for couples who are also caregivers, raise kids, and walk dogs. Believe me, I’ve been there–forty pounds heavier than I am today–sleep deprived, irritable, and pulled in a thousand directions–and living with a loved one with Alzheimer’s isn’t exactly conducive to candles and teddys.

 

Mom’s Home—Quick, Lock the Bedroom Door!Enjoy Your Relationship Even if Your Mom

Lives With You

· Put a lock on your bedroom door—and use it
· Sneak around—intimacy doesn’t just have to happen in the bedroom. Be playful! Flirt!
· Nix the old t-shirt and sweats and wear attractive PJs—they don’t have to be overly sexy to be attractive.
· Stay affectionate–even if you have to make yourself at first—call each other during the day just for a “Hi, and I love you,” hug and kiss hello and goodbye, cuddle on the couch, call each other affectionate names/ take baths or showers together (you do remember those?)
. Take short walks together—even 5 or 10 minutes of fresh air is invigorating and gives you a chance to talk
· Plan a surprise—sneak out to the yard after dark to cuddle on a quilt under the stars with cups of hot chocolate
. Laugh! Rent a comedy, pop some popcorn and sit ont the couch together–not in dueling recliners
· Don’t sweat it if you aren’t in a lovey-dove mood–caregiving is stressful and there are seasons in life. Remember though, a healthy love life is healing, satisfying and stress relieving—and better for you than a bottle of Scotch

  • If you’re a care partner, you have also face physical challenges. Talk, cuddle, find out what works and what doesn’t. Don’t think you have to “go all the way.” Find your own way.

Being a caregiver, care receiver, or care partner doesn’t mean you–or your loved one is dead. Unearthing those needs and desires means you’re still alive. Love and passion are vital.

Say “yes” to LIFE every chance you get.

And don’t forget–holding hands is still pretty darn great.

Happy V Day!

~Carol D. O’Dell
Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir,
available on Amazon
and in most bookstores

Kunati Publishing

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I’m a sandwich generation caregiver.

My 89-year old adoptive mother (who suffered with Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s) moved in with us–my husband and I, two of our three daughters, plus a menagerie of dogs and cats.

My situation won’t be the same.

We have three daughters, and I had all of them while I was in my twenties.

That means when I’m 89, my daughters will be 67, 66, and 63. Yikes.

I hope they’ll be in good health and that we can all toodle around and take road trips, eat triple decker double-dipped ice-cream cones and enjoy our grandchildren–and my great grand children.

But there are no guarantees we’ll all be in good health.

And being in your late sixties and caregiving can’t be a picnic.

Just ask all the boomers who are starting down this road now.

Ironically, my mother-in-law has a mother-in-law. Neither are spring chickens. My mother-in-law is 79, and her mother-in-law is 95.

My mother-in-law has begun to slow down and is dealing with an arthritic knee. Her father-in-law died this year  and they’ve been driving three hours a day to help care for his mom (my mother-in-law’s mom-in-law). They’re worried about how things will go in the future, what care she’ll need, how they’ll manage.

They face the same questions I faced–what do we do about mom?

Do we place her in a care facility? Does she live with family?

But they (my father-in-law has his  2 siblings) also have different questions:

Are any of us capable of caring for her–long-term? 

My father-in-law just retired. He was planning on golfing, driving to see all the kids and grandkids, and instead, he’s caregiving.

Guess you just can’t get away from it. The best you can do is look a bit ahead and make a semi-plan.

And as we age, caregiving is even more difficult–physically in particular.

Families have new questions to ask. New plans to make. Grab the moments of fun now and not wait for some “golden” day for that dream trip or to think you’ll sail into your senior years in the glow of a sensual–just-two-love-birds sunset.

My plan is to really, really spoil my grandchildren–afterall, they’ll be young enough to care for me. That, and live big/love hard–now.

~Carol D. O’Dell

Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir

 available on Amazon and in most bookstores

www.mothering-mother.com

www.kunati.com

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There was a time when I was caring for my mom (who lived with my family and me–she had Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s) when I felt as if I were living in a tomb. It was so depressing to wake up every day to the same old routine–pills, dressing her, bathing her, listening to her negativity, which at times, I simply couldn’t lift her out of her dark moods. It all felt so mundane–and it seemed as if it would loom into my future for years to come.

It felt as if I had traded my life for my mother’s.

Sometimes caregiving feels like that.

I told my husband I needed a puppy.

Crazy, I know. Another “life” to take care of–walk, pick up poops, vet visits…work I didn’t need in my life.

But what I needed was exactly that–a new life.

We had a kitty and a Beagle, but she was old too. I didn’t want to lose my mother and my dog at the same time–I needed to counter death with life.

I guess I must have been really pitiful because my husband said okay, and honestly, I was a bit surprised. Our house overfloweth already.

Three kids, a dog, a cat, my mother…and a new puppy? Was I crazy? Was he crazy? Love makes us give into crazy, at times.

So, we went for a bike ride in the neighborhood. Even the sunshine and warmth of Florida did little to lift my thoughts. I was still in a funk. I think it was my first realization that death was going to take its own sweet time and I had a front row seat.

Then, we saw a sign. Literally. “Puppies–free.” Synchronicity.

We rode up the driveway, and there, in the back yard was a mama dog (Alaskan Malamute) and about six fat, wobbly, fuzzy puppies. It really did feel like a sign. (pah-dum-pum)

I chose a sweet, shy fur-ball who sat underneath the truck and then waddled her way out to get some lovin’. She looked at me with big brown eyes and floppy ears and a curly tail, and yeah, guess she knew I was her sucka.

We brought home our bundle and named her Kismet.

That means fate….

Kismet is curled underneath my desk as I write this. My feet are wedged in her tummy area–nice and warm. Her son is under there too. (That’s another post of yet another miracle in my life). My kitty’s still here and he’s in the room too, fatter than ever.

I call them my possy. I have more of an entourage than P’Diddy.

“We” spend our days writing, reading–yes, I read my work to them. We also spend a good portion of the day walking, playing and cuddling. Everything I own is covered in fur. I saw a great handtowel the other day that said, “If it wasn’t for pet fur, I’d get no fiber in my diet.”

My beagle’s gone, and so is my mom. Death gives way to life.

If you’re really down and it feels as if there’s an iron black cloud over your head–consider life. I know it’s work. I know it’s time–and money–and trouble. Believe me, I know the cost of pets. I’ve cleaned up the runs and throw up and infected ears, and all expenses that goes with caring for a biological life form–be it human or dog. 

But it’s still worth it. Why?  

I smile and laugh every day.

I get to pet soft furry ears.

They wag their tales when I open the door.

They seem to like me so much that even if I go into another room–they want to be there–with me.

They’re warm–and cuddly.

They actually seem to smile when they see me.

They make me get up when I might just want to roll over.

They make me walk–even when it’s cold.

They give me a sense of being safe.

They keep me on a healthy routine. They also remind me that I have to stand up to them–they need me to be the Alpha Mama–to be in charge. That makes them feel safe, and it makes me remember my strength.

They make me give–which is good for everyone.

They give me hope.

Life goes on.

(There’s more about my pets in my book, Mothering Mother. They truly were one of the keys to keeping me headed in the right direction in the years I cared for my mom).

~Carol D. O’Dell

Author of Mothering Mother: A Daughter’s Humorous and Heartbreaking Memoir,

Available on Amazon and in most bookstores

www.mothering-mother.com.

Kunati Publishing

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