The Experienced Caregiver

We went to a surprise birthday party next door for our neighbor. There were a lot of people there, and we knew most of them. While we sat at the patio table and waited for the surprise, a couple came out and asked a woman sitting there at the table a question about eldercare.  Although I'd only met this woman once before and didn't really know her, I had heard that she had taken care of her Mother at some point.  And the way she answered the question posed to her, she seemed to have experience at it.  Well, that and the fact that she just came right out and said, "I know more about eldercare than I ever wanted to know."

Their conversation ended, the surprise came, everyone had a good time and we had birthday cake...and then they broke out the cornhole games.  (This is a very popular game here in the midwest...throwing bean bags at a hole in a board 33 feet away. Only the bean bags are full of corn. But it's similar to horseshoes)  We had a huge tournament in the alley. Mom was the banker. Each player paid 2 dollars and the winning team got the money, so Mom held it in her pocket and we got her a chair and sat it in the shade. She loves to watch us play this game.  She had a cold drink and had eaten birthday cake earlier. People were taking time out to grab a plate of food before they had to play again, and I wondered if I should get her a plate. The reason I had to think about it was because my Mom hates to eat with a plate of food in her lap. The older she gets, the less tolerant she has become of eating without a table. I kept thinking I'd just wait until the tournament ended and then she and I would eat together. It was a good plan, but because I have this built-in guilt meter that is always telling me I don't do enough, I asked her if she wanted a plate now or if she wanted to wait. The answer was just what I expected. "Oh, no honey, I'll wait until the game is over and eat with you."

Meanwhile, the Experienced Caregiver came over with a chair and sat next to Mom and proceeded to strike up a conversation. That was good, because it was my turn to play. She talked to Mom for a long time and at one point they called me over to ask me a question that Mom couldn't quite answer. I think it was where I fell in birth order. She was very pleasant and let me know that she was having a good conversation with Mom.  When she spoke to me she did so as if Mom wasn't there and when she spoke to Mom she talked to her as though she were a two-year old.  She told me about the conversation they were having.  "You're Mother and I have been having a great conversation!" I looked at Mom and she nodded her head in agreement.  The Experienced Caregiver continued, "I asked her where she lived and who she lived with.  And she told me she lives with you and Stan. And I asked her if everything was ok there with you all, and she said it was..." this continued on for a minute and I had to go back and play (thank God) but now I was worried about Mom and the way this woman was talking to her. I try my hardest every day not to talk 'down' to her or sound condescending in any way. After all, she isn't totally 'gone'......yet. And this woman seemed to be pumping her for information about her living arrangements, how she was treated, if things were acceptable for her. I was really offended by this line of questioning.

Later, I walked back over and Mom was telling her, "...we had 6 kids, they came out 3 boys first..."

"Yes, you told me that already, dear, remember? 3 boys, and then 3 girls..." the Experienced Caregiver was finishing Mom's stories almost as fast as she was finishing her beers. Mom's stories are all she has left and even though I've heard them a million times, I don't finish them for her. I let her tell them. I patted Mom on the shoulder, asked her if she was all right and went back to my game and told her to watch Stan and I win this one. (which we did). 

Next thing I know the Experienced Caregiver is bringing Mom a plate of food. I cringe, knowing what it looks like to everyone else there. This woman is looking after my Mom better than I am.  Actually, everyone was having a good time playing the game and probably didn't notice, but I sure did.  I walked over to them and looked at Mom and said, "Mom, you're making me look bad. I asked you if you wanted something to eat and you said, 'no'."  I was joking with her.

"I don't ask, I just do. I've been down this road before," the Experienced Caregiver said. Then she proceeded to tell Mom that the hot peppers she had on her sandwich were not hot, even though mom said they were. She had put banana peppers on her sandwich and Mom had looked at it, tasted it, and said the peppers were hot. "Those are not hot peppers," she told Mom.  "They have hot peppers in there but I didn't put the hot ones on your Sandwich. I put the mild ones on it. They aren't hot." Then the Experienced Caregiver looks at me and says, "I'm experienced at this."

"Experienced at what?" Mom asked.

"Eat your sandwich, dear, it's not hot, I promise."

I went back to the game and kept an eye on them. Pretty soon they were calling for me. "Your Mom's tired." (I bet). "She wants to go home."  I asked her if she was all right and she said she was just tired and was ready to go home. I walked her home and reminded her where we'd be and told her we would be home in a little bit.

I didn't say anything to her about the Experienced Caregiver that night.  I waited until the next day. Mom can barely remember what she said last, much less what kind of conversation she had the day before, but for some reason I brought it up the next day, anyway, not expecting her to remember.

"Mom, did you have a good time yesterday at the neighbors? Watching us all play cornhole?" Giving her more information like that helps her to remember sometimes.

Her eyes lit up, "Yes! I sure did."

"Did that woman drive you crazy?" I was, of course, referring to the Experienced Caregiver. I didn't use her name and was very vague in asking the question, as there were a lot of women there. But Mom didn't disappoint. She looked at me and kind of rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Then she just said, "she meant well."