The Thoughtful Caregiver

I’ve been advocating
Slow Caregiving.
I see this approach
as much an attitude
as it is a speed.
It’s a decision
to always keep the care receiver’s needs
in clear focus.
In an interview in The Washington Post yesterday,
travel expert Rick Steves described
the culture in Italian restaurants.
“Slow service,” he said, “is good service.”
How is that so?
It’s their way of showing
they respect you, they like you.
“Please feel free to stay all night”
is what they’re communicating.
Unlike most American restaurants,
where it’s frowned upon to linger too long,
the Italian attitude is,
“Take whatever time you wish.
It is, after all, your meal.”
Carl Honore makes this distinction
in his book In Praise of Slowness:
“Fast is busy, controlling, aggressive, hurried, analytical, stressed, superficial, impatient, active, quantity-over-quality. Slow is the opposite: calm, careful, receptive, still, intuitive, unhurried, patient, reflective, quality-over-quantity. It is about making real and meaningful connections—with people, culture, food, everything. The paradox is that Slow does not always mean slow.”

Slow Caregiving means bring receptive
to what’s ultimately right for the care receiver.
Maybe they’d like certain things
to happen more quickly.
Slow Caregiving says, “We’ll try that.”
Maybe they’d like time to interact,
to talk, to reminisce, to linger.
Slow Caregiving says, “Let’s tarry here.”
Maybe there’s an emergency.
Slow Caregiving says, “Let’s hustle now!
Time is of the essence!”
Then a Slow Caregiver rushes ahead
with, as much as possible,
a Slow frame of mind—
intuitively, assuredly, calmly,
and with great caring.

Click on this image to enlarge it. Then right click to print it, send it to another, or use as your desktop wallpaper.

Please select this LINK for a printable version of this image.

David’s wife, Carol,
is chronically ill.
She’ll never get better.
David watches over her
day in, day out.
A neighbor once said,
“Just ask if there is anything I can do.”
David immediately responded, “I’m asking.”
“What is it you need?”
“Someone to be with Carol a few hours
every now and again,
so I can do things on my own.”
The neighbor happily agreed,
pleased to know exactly what would help.
David happily accepted her offer.
And Carol happily has social visits
from her neighbor and friend,
times she can look forward to.

Caregiver respite takes many forms.
People might come into our home,
or our care receiver might go to another’s home,
or perhaps to an adult day care center.
Arrangements might be made for full-time care
in an accredited facility
for a specified period of time.
Family members can provide respite care,
as can friends and neighbors,
colleagues and community volunteers,
as well as professionals of various sorts.
However respite care is handled,
research shows that it’s most beneficial
if it meets several criteria.
It’s best when the respite is regular—
a time the caregiver can plan for
and look forward to.
Each respite should provide enough time
to do something the caregiver wants to do;
a quick break is usually not enough.
The respite time should be geared
to the caregiver’s needs and desires—
the ideal timing, frequency, duration, and location
will vary from person to person.
It’s most beneficial if the caregiver
plans the use of the time in advance,
even if the plan is “I’m going to read
my favorite author’s latest novel.”
Whether the respite time is spent
in great activity or comparative inactivity,
the benefits readily add up
and healthy caregiving is naturally supported.

Click on this image to enlarge it. Then right click to print it, send it to another, or use as your desktop wallpaper.

Please select this LINK for a printable version of this image.

Young mother Julia Glass
struggled with side effects
of her chemotherapy
after breast cancer surgery.
Some nights she sat up
in bed, unable to sleep,
her bones aching.
Her husband would sit beside her,
sometimes feeding their baby.
“My body really, really hurts,” she’d moan.
“I wish I could do something,” he’d say.
Just touching her, however,
caused her even more pain.
So he’d lean against the pillows beside her
in the darkness, often in silence,
holding the baby,
accepting whatever his wife wanted to say,
whatever she needed to do.
Julia makes an important point about this
in the book An Uncertain Inheritance:
What I didn’t tell him, but should have, was that he was doing something just by being awake with me. I began to understand that taking care of someone doesn’t always mean doing something for that person; there isn’t always a hot toddy or a water bottle or an ointment to soothe. Being is just as important as doing. Being awake. Being present in the next chair. Being funny. Being smart in a surprising, useful way. Being sympathetically perplexed. Being a mirror for the expression of pain.

Julia knows.
So do legions of other care receivers.
You and I do a lot as caregivers,
helpless as we may feel,
when we remain awake,
listening in the darkness.
When we nod our heads,
showing that we’ve heard,
that we understand as well as we’re able.
When we look them full in the face,
letting them see our face too.
When we remain close,
sensing that’s what they need.
When we give them their space,
if we sense that’s what they need.
When we still our bodies,
so that we’re not fidgeting,
not creating a distraction.
When we willingly witness their tears,
without showing discomfort or alarm.
When we smile,
just because.
We can be doing something very important,
something that makes a real difference,
when it doesn’t appear
we’re doing anything at all.
Maybe we’ll be told about that difference,
and maybe not.
But the difference is real,
whether the message comes back to us
or it’s kept inside.
The difference itself is what ultimately matters.

Click on this image to enlarge it. Then right click to print it, send it to another, or use as your desktop wallpaper.

Please select this LINK for a printable version of this image.