Even though I had worked with frail old people for many years, before I became a long distance caregiver to my father, he was the one who taught me the most about caregiving. Our relationship carried a lot of baggage and so much love. But I was tested. I had to let my ego agenda fade and my love brighten. For me as well as for most caregivers, that meant slowing down, giving up self-importance, calming the anxiety that I can’t do it; or the arrogance that I am heroic for doing it at all.
Here is a story of mine published on caring.com which describes an incident where my father created the spark that gave my family a vision of a magical world.
“My family is together in Morro Bay, California, driving down the highway on our way to lunch. My father, who is an invalid, is in the back seat, chanting. “The rock, the rock. I want to see the rock.”
“Oh no,” I’m thinking to myself. “He wants to see Morro Rock, which is the opposite direction from the way we’re headed.” I can feel my irritation bubbling. He never could follow the status quo. The traffic on the freeway is speeding up and cars are rushing by. I look into the rearview mirror. My cheeks are flushed; smoke is coming out of my ears.
My father’s voice is steady. “The rock. I want to see the rock.” …
go to caring.com for conclusion.