Cindy sometimes struggles to take her pills. She tries to cooperate, bu just doesn’t know whtat to do at times. I’ll start by putting the pills in her hand and even this might be met with a quizzical expression of “what do you want from me?” From there she might struggle with placing the pills in her mouth, with drinking water to wash them down or with swallowing them.
On such occasions I think back to the battle I once had with Serena, five years old at the time. I had begun the transition from major breadwinner to be at home when needed parent, not yet familiar with all the tricks and duties of that role. Serena came down with a cold and Cindy gave me instructions to administer liquid medicine at a particular time.
At the appropriate time I attempted to give Serena the medicine but was met with great resistance. Well, Cindy’s the nurse; I took her instructions seriously and would not take no for an answer. I practically forced the medicine down Serena’s throat, to which she responded by throwing it all up. Later I found out there was a children’s version of the medicine that I really was supposed to give her. I lost my first battle with one of our children instead. Alas, more losses loomed on the horizon.
Fortunately, I have yet to lose a battle with Cindy these days. Once I committed 24/7 to being her caregiver that role has proven relatively easy. Almost all my battles now are confined to maintaining a high quality of life for Cindy. When other battles attempt to weave themselves into a more complex tapestry of life I simply surrender and return to my simple focus.
This relates to why I love long-distance hiking so much. The battles may be difficult, even life-threatening at times, yet still so simple, so straightforward. There’s nothing more simple than surviving and enjoying the beauty around you, including the beauty of good company. While some of the battles faced in civilized society may be easier than a twenty-mile day, their overall complexity woven together make ultimate victory harder to obtain.
Our recent visit to our daughter Charissa provides concrete evidence of successful battles. We’ve visited her in the Albany area only three times, each visit spaced far apart from the other. These provided discrete measuring points of Cindy’s dementia. As an aside, I wonder about the impact on others from seeing Cindy intermittently, as opposed to my constant witnessing of her very gradual yet continual decline. Yet one thing was both discretely and continually evident … and I hope Charissa noticed … Cindy still enjoys very much being with her daughters, being with others, in fact, just being.
Life here on Emerson Street remains easy enough as long as I keep winning all the battles. The hardest part of my situation is apprehending the constant change … the constant “leveling up” of battles, so to speak … similar to the increasing number of attack ships in Space Invaders, or the increasing speed of the ball in Pong, though I’ve grown less apprehensive about future battles as I keep winning the current ones. For example, should there come a time when Cindy is unable to take her pills I figure I could grind them up in a smoothie.
Yet I do not profess certainty to winning all future battles, with the added apprehension that losing one battle could have a compounding effect on other battles for her quality of life. My biggest concern right now is her teeth. Cindy has such a great smile with great teeth. I want to preserve those teeth for her endearing charm; I want to preserve them for her quality of life; I take better care of them than I do my own. I suspect a dentist would have a tougher time than me without knocking her out first. I employ a nutcracker pick and floss picks for weapons to win this battle. What would happen should I lose?
When apprehensions such as this start to surface I recall the Biblical passage about the lilies in the field, with the abiding message to let each day’s troubles, each day’s battles, be sufficient for that day. A long distance hiker must abide by such wisdom; I need only apply what I’ve done for much of my life to being a caregiver. Just like those lilies in the field Cindy is such a wonderful creation. Together as long distance hikers we’ve won many daily battles. Towards the ultimate victory of maintaining a high quality of life, we have a few more to win … and win we must.
