Category: Caregiving

Spinning My Tires

spinning wheels pic

 

Around and Around

It should have been a banner year. How many people get to be authors? And have an article published in a print magazine? And get to work at a job they love? How many parents see their children and grandchildren living solid lives of faith and hope?

  • This year I had the honor of working with my daughter Grace, who, by the way, is the best office assistant/publicist ever.
  • I had the joy of seeing our youngest son get his own place and grow in a job he loves.
  • I celebrated when our eldest granddaughter was accepted into the college of her choice.
  • I joined my beloved family for a nine-day trip to my favorite Pacific beach and attended my first Hot August Nights car show in my hometown.
  • My precious husband and I celebrated forty-two years of marriage with a two-day trip to the Big Town, where we got our Cabela’s fix and my husband finally bought a buffalo picture. He’s maintained for years that a log home needs a buffalo pic. I maintained otherwise. We finally agreed on one that would nicely grace the upstairs hall at the top of the stairs. At a vintage lamp shop downtown, I bought my first Quoizel Tiffany lamp, something I’d been coveting  for several years.
  • The ancient mint and green carpet in our house is giving way to a handsome porcelain slate tile that will hold up better to country living, wheels, and our son’s German Shepherd/cross dog.
  • I’ve been able to share our story and God’s comfort with others through my writing and speaking. My first book, Song in the Night, recently was re-released in e-book form. I’ve met and re-connected with many wonderful people and heard inspiring stories of faith across this country.
  • I even learned how to use Google+ Hangouts to make a video presentation at a virtual caregiving conference, no small feat for a sixty-year-old woman who still struggles with the t.v. remote.

Yes, 2014 should have been a great year. In fact, it has been. And for that I’m eternally grateful to my Savior.

So why did I lose steam mid-summer? Why did I feel like I was spinning my wheels?

Mostly, I think, it was because in the midst of everything else, I am, first, a caregiver. Everything that I do comes after and along with my caregiving duties. Simple things like a trip to town involve a a lot of work and planning.

Every step is hard work. Every victory comes with much warfare. The joys have been interwoven with sorrow.

We lost Aaron’s beloved mother in January; my dear uncle in July. Kevin had an infection and sternum injury in May. He received emergency care during our coastal trip and again back at home. My father endured a hard winter of medical struggles. Then I suffered a severe lumbar strain and was completely out of commission for a few weeks. The family had to take up the slack in the daily chores.

It was during that time down in bed that I finally could stop. The enforced rest gave me a chance to re-think what I’ve been doing and what I want to achieve. One thing I know for sure:

I never want to be spinning my wheels on this journey. I want to listen carefully to God and only go where He guides. That may not mean a smoother ride. In fact, that may only increase the warfare in my soul and on the home front.  The road to Zion is narrow and often filled with detours. I’m thankful to be on this trip, though. My destination is assured; a room in God’s mansion is already reserved for me heaven. It’s just a matter of staying on course, listening for God’s guidance, and remembering to enjoy the view along the way.

I will not spin my tires.
I will not spin my tires.
I will not spin my tires.

Photo courtesy Kevin Thorson/copyright 2014

The Nurse Who Remembered

 

http://www.dreamstime.com/stock-images-equipment-ventilation-patient-operating-image18733114

This post is part of the #Blog4Care blog carnival being hosted by Caring Across Generations. We’re hoping that by sharing our caregiving stories, we can begin to come up with solutions to the care crisis that is affecting millions of Americans. 

Nursing carries heavy responsibilities. It requires long days, longer nights, and impossible schedules. In celebration of one of my favorite nurses, I’ve reprinted an except of our story from my first book, Song in the Night. The nurse’s name has been changed, but everything else is as it happened in the summer of 1997.

More than just a nurse…

One nurse in particular that we loved was named Mandy. She was slender and petite, with lovely dark hair and makeup that was always perfect. She had an exotic air and a husband who was a businessman in Africa. She always seemed to know what to do and did it expertly. Kevin said that she did the best job of suctioning the secretions out of his lungs of anyone on the floor, so I watched her carefully and had her teach us her own technique.

One day in particular, things were very trying. Kevin was still stick, and I just had to go run a quick errand. There was no other family member to stay with Kevin while I was gone, and Kevin kept begging me not to leave him. Mandy saw my dilemma and offered to sit with Kevin until I came back.

Thankfully, I took her offer and rushed out. I knew she was busy, and Kevin wasn’t the only patient that needed her. So I hurried as fast I could and breathlessly returned to find her sitting peacefully at his bedside, chatting amiably with Kevin as she gave him a manicure.

A warm rush of gratitude flowed over me. She could not have realized how little of our human dignity was left after these long weeks. The harsh environment of living in the world of the near-dead had ground us far into the dust. Although people around us had been so good to us, and most of the medical people tried, the very nature of the situation was immensely dehumanizing. We existed on little food, sleep, or comfort. Rehab schedules did not allow time for living. Whoever was staying with Kevin slept on a big chair that folded out into a small bed that was in his room. We often slept and lived in the same clothes. Our world revolved around learning a myriad of medical procedures, basic caregiving, and getting Kevin through another day.

There wasn’t time to truly grieve, to hurt, to process what was happening, or even to feel. We were often treated like machines, pushed and prodded and educated in things we neither envisioned nor wanted to learn. There were days Aaron and I didn’t know who was taking care of our youngest daughter or even where she was. That haunted me, and it caused recurring nightmares in which I had lost her. For a while, she bounced between friends and family. At fifteen, Daniel was learning physical therapy techniques and sitting long hours with his brother. Erik worked full-time down in Lewiston and drove the 100 miles to Spokane every weekend to be with us.

More than “the C2” in Room 210…

I understand that by necessity, the medical world is run by schedules and operates under financial limitations. Faced with the politics of medicine, it’s easy to reduce a patient to “the C2” in Room 210 or “the gallbladder” on the fourth floor.

But Mandy had remembered that we were more. She remembered that we were people – hurting, frightened, and overwhelmed. And she cared enough to stop and give us the help we really needed.

~ Pam Thorson

Podcast March 1st

 

http://www.dreamstime.com/royalty-free-stock-photography-microphone-stage-spotlight-blue-curtain-image14819847

Join me for a podcast with Denise Brown of Caregiving.com on Saturday, March 1 at 10 a.m. ET (9 a.m. CT; 8 a.m. MT; 7 a.m. PT). Listen live or download the podcast here:
http://www.blogtalkradio.com/caregiving

Denise is the founder of a vibrant online community of caregivers. I’m honored to join her for an interview tomorrow morning as I share the story surrounding our son’s disability and my perspectives on caregiving.

Hope to see you there!

God IS in Control

maninshadow

 God…is the blessed controller of all things. 1 Timothy 6:15 (Phillips)

God IS in Control

What a year it has been already! There have been some sad events: burying my mother-in-law, watching my father suffer through a serious infection. There has also been a rumbling in our lives as the stone has been rolled away from the tomb of some long-standing dreams. I can’t share the details, but I have witnessed enough miracles in the last month alone to move me to tears and remind me that God is a God of wonders.

When He closes a door, it’s closed. Solid. No amount of moving or praying can budge it.

When He opens a door, it’s flung wide to let in the fresh air of hope.

Whatever’s going on in your lives, rest in the trust that God does hear your prayers. And He really cares about you. As I’ve shared in the last couple of weeks in recent devotionals When Dead Men Speak and Beyond the Grave at CMADDICT.com, God moves in sovereign and powerful ways far beyond our ability to imagine.

Events of these last weeks have encouraged me to step out more boldly in His steps. It’s a fearsome thing to follow behind the Savior, knowing all He gave up to answer His Father’s call. But it’s more frightening to remain in the shadows of my faith, where fear rules the night.

Come with me, my friends. Let’s push aside the stumbling blocks that have kept us from being all God has called us to be. We can serve with joy, knowing our struggles are not in vain. He is still “the blessed Controller of all things.”

Do you know someone who takes care of a loved one?

Can you imagine how hard it is for them to make it through another day?

You can help! I still need people to join my team for the launch of my new book, Out from the Shadows: 31 Devotions for Weary Caregivers. You don’t need special skills or a great social media following to help. Just read my previous post (click here) and pick 5 ideas there or send me 5 of your own ideas and you’re on the team. There will be a drawing for a Kindle Paperwhite e-reader in March for those who become team members. E-mail me at thesong2008@live.com and put “Influencer Request” in the subject line. Thanks!

5 Ways to Ease Caregiver Strain

 

http://www.dreamstime.com/royalty-free-stock-image-helping-hands-elderly-home-care-image30894486

My latest issue of Nursing 2013 came in the mail yesterday. Usually I set magazines aside for later reading, but the title article on this one caught my eye immediately:

Easing the burden on family caregivers

I’ve been a full-time caregiver of a high-level quadriplegic son for sixteen years. I love my job, but I’m always willing to learn anything to ease the workload. I grabbed it and scanned past the clinical stuff to get to the end. I wanted to see what their ideas were for “easing the burden.”

As I guessed, there was no magic bullet, no miraculous new methods for helping family caregivers. There were, however, some things worth noting. Today I’ve pulled out a few of their ideas and added a few things we’ve learned over the years to share with those who care for loved ones.

5 Ways to Ease Caregiver Strain:

1. Learn to depend on others for help.

Caregiving is a marathon. No one can take on such duties day after day after day without respite or assistance. It’s hard to ask others for help, to feel needy. But those around you may wish they could help somehow and just not know what to do. If you’re not comfortable with having them take over the actual caregiving duties, you could see if they would be willing assist you in chores once in a while. If you have the financial resources, you can also pay for such chores as yard work and picking up groceries to save valuable time and energy.

Getting help not only relieves the physical burden, it allows both caregiver and patient a chance to interact with others, a vital necessity for both physical and emotional health.

2. Adapt an assertive, rather than a passive, coping style. 

Those who are naturally more passive are more susceptible to crumbling under the burden of caregiving. They tend to stay isolated, worry more, ask fewer questions, and develop a negative attitude.

A healthier coping lifestyle involves actively taking charge of the situation, asking questions and pursuing the answers that will benefit both the caregiver and the patient.

3. Learn all you can.

Understanding what is happening to your family member is crucial to providing the best care with the least amount of emotional strain. Research the disease process or injury, available treatments, and the usual prognosis. It’s especially important to know such basic techniques as how to correctly turn a person in bed, infection control, and bed sore prevention. Know what community, church, and government resources are available.

4. Be kind to yourself.

Caregivers often put the needs of their loved ones ahead of their own needs. In order to take good care of others, you need to be good to yourself, as well. This is easier said than done, since it’s often hard to find time for anything besides work. Try to give yourself permission to care for you. Your family member needs for you to be well.

Hospital emergency departments employ a term called “triage” to decide which patients should be treated first. The idea is to put the most important cases at the front of the line. Do this with your life. Develop your own triage system to care for the “worst first” in your day. If a chore can wait until tomorrow and you’re exhausted, put it at the end of the line. This works well for emotional issues, too. Don’t waste your tears on things that aren’t worth your energy.

5. Talk to someone.

Develop an emotional support system. Have at least one or two people who you can call when you need to cry, vent, or just talk. Don’t just run to those who will agree with everything you say, though. Develop friendships with those who will listen and speak the truth. It’s a two-way street; engaging with others gives our lives new perspective. It may even ignite a fresh appreciation for all we have gained through our own situations.

 

The Nurse Who Remembered

http://www.dreamstime.com/stock-images-equipment-ventilation-patient-operating-image18733114

Nursing carries heavy responsibilities. It requires long days, longer nights, and impossible schedules. In celebration of one of my favorite nurses, I’ve reprinted an except of our story from my book Song in the Night. Her name has been changed, but everything else is as it happened in the summer of 1997.

One nurse in particular that we loved was named Mandy. She was slender and petite, with lovely dark hair and makeup that was always perfect. She had an exotic air and a husband who was a businessman in Africa. She always seemed to know what to do and did it expertly. Kevin said that she did the best job of suctioning the secretions out of his lungs of anyone on the floor, so I watched her carefully and had her teach us her own technique.

One day in particular, things were very trying. Kevin was still stick, and I just had to go run a quick errand. There was no other family member to stay with Kevin while I was gone, and Kevin kept begging me not to leave him. Mandy saw my dilemma and offered to sit with Kevin until I came back.

Thankfully, I took her offer and rushed out. I knew she was busy, and Kevin wasn’t the only patient that needed her. So I hurried as fast I could and breathlessly returned to find her sitting peacefully at his bedside, chatting amiably with Kevin as she gave him a manicure.

A warm rush of gratitude flowed over me. She could not have realized how little of our human dignity was left after these long weeks. The harsh environment of living in the world of the near-dead had ground us far into the dust. Although people around us had been so good to us, and most of the medical people tried, the very nature of the situation was immensely dehumanizing. We existed on little food, sleep, or comfort. Rehab schedules did not allow time for living. Whoever was staying with Kevin slept on a big chair that folded out into a small bed that was in his room. We often slept and lived in the same clothes. Our world revolved around learning a myriad of medical procedures, basic caregiving, and getting Kevin through another day.

There wasn’t time to truly grieve, to hurt, to process what was happening, or even to feel. We were often treated like machines, pushed and prodded and educated in things we neither envisioned nor wanted to learn. There were days Aaron and I didn’t know who was taking care of our youngest daughter or even where she was. That haunted me, and it caused recurring nightmares in which I had lost her. For a while, she bounced between friends and family. At fifteen, Daniel was learning physical therapy techniques and sitting long hours with his brother. Erik worked full-time down in Lewiston and drove the 100 miles up to Spokane, every weekend, to help.

I understand that by necessity, the medical world is run by schedules and operates under financial limitations. Faced with the politics of medicine, it’s easy to reduce a patient to “the C2” in room 210 or “the gallbladder” on the fourth floor.

But Mandy had remembered otherwise. She remembered that we were people…hurting, frightened, and overwhelmed. And she cared enough to stop and help us that one afternoon in the way we really needed help.

– Pamela Thorson

Song in the Night
copyright 2008
Published by Luminary Media Group

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