Day One, Friday
Traveling to Florida was much easier than last time, going through airport security and using public transportation just by myself, without having to guide Cindy through everything. Well, easier until I reached the end of the line with public transportation. I discovered that this “other” resort included on our timeshare, which I was using for the first time, was located two miles farther south than the last bus stop.
Around midnight I got off the bus with my luggage and jogged the two remaining miles to the resort. No, I was not jogging for fear of muggers, I was jogging because of the rain and the lightning that started around the same time I got off the bus. I shared this experience with a friend and got a surprise response. Rather than any sign of sympathy she declared:
“That sounds right up your alley!”
You know what? She was right. Jogging two miles in a rainstorm at midnight, while carrying luggage, was the highlight of the trip. That is who I am.
Day Two, Saturday
I did what we usually do the first day at our resort timeshare, tour the property and lounge around. Considering the recent lack of sleep some lounging was necessary. You might think lounging was well-deserved even, having come down here for respite as a caregiver. Yet I hated it.
Saturday was the worst day of the “vacation.” Some of my cranky disposition may have been due to lack of sleep, but I discovered throughout the day that being inactive is not the tonic needed when a burden skulks around in the mind. Plus, keeping active is who I am.
Day Three, Sunday
I remedied Saturday’s ennui by laying out a schedule to follow on Sunday. I felt much better in the morning, leading up to my first workout in the fitness center. I really looked forward to what this workout might show me about my conditioning.
My body fat and cardiovascular fitness has never been better, due to pedicab pedaling and running stairs, but how does this compare to my fitness before I became a caregiver? When I used the aerobic machines at a gym my measured output would be around 900-1,000 calories per hour. Since my workouts lasted up to 90 minutes my calories burned used to be as much as 1500 for one workout.
As soon as I started the treadmill I knew my performance on these machines had been enhanced. I cranked the machine to the highest resistance. I jogged. I ran. I was running around 8mph up an 8% incline. I was kickin’ a**! Then my Achilles’ tendons felt struck by a sledge hammer. I discovered I have a younger person’s fitness trapped inside an older man’s body. That is who I am.
Day Four, Monday
During lunch time I used FaceTime to video chat with Charissa and Cindy back home, as I had been doing every day while down here. Charissa does a terrific job of being cheerful and positive. I really am impressed. Yet Cindy’s countenance reflects the inner discontent she must be experiencing. When I am there I usually sit to her side and do not get the full effect of this countenance, or perhaps I have grown numb to it in my daily caregiver routine.
For the afternoon I went for a long walk, or a long gimp would be a better description. Most of the walk covered all corners of the resort property, but I also went off property to eat supper at an island grille. I used my plethora of one-liners to bring a smile to the waitress, as is my custom with or without Cindy present. I figure they are there to enhance my experience, why not return the favor?
This time I felt a little awkward. The waitress was attractive, I would guess in her forties. If I were to use these same one-liners a few months from now will I be flirting? I am not sure what to make of that. Nor am I sure what to make of our timeshare. I fancied I could continue to use our timeshare as a writer’s retreat, but witnessing all the couples and families enjoying themselves during my walk makes me feel out of place. The reality is once I step outside my house I effectively am single. That is who I am.
Day Five, Tuesday
Charissa contacted me before our appointed FaceTime hour. She was worried about Cindy, who could not be shaken out of a sleepy stupor. Charissa was almost in tears over this. Was Cindy transitioning into a permanent sleep?
I was not quite as alarmed. I have seen Cindy abnormally sleepy before, due to various reasons. Still, without being present to make my own assessment my mind prepared for the worst. I started formulating strategies for going home early.
There are dippers and plungers in life. The dippers get their toes wet first as part of a slow entry, the plungers dive right in. Sometimes we do not have a choice in the matter. Most caregivers for dementia patients are dippers, gradually adjusting to continual new norms for behavior. In contrast, circumstances have plunged Charissa right into the caregiver role.
Later in the afternoon I find out the ship has been righted, but I still feel concern for Charissa with the role she accepted on my behalf. Relinquishing responsibility does not come easy for me. I prefer the buck stops with me, especially with someone as important as Cindy. I would not mind at all returning to Connecticut early; I probably would feel better. That is who I am.
Day Six, Wednesday
FaceTime with Cindy and Charissa is on a much lighter note. Cindy’s long time friend Kim was there. In fact, Charissa practically gloated over all the visitors and aides that would be coming today, along with meals they were bringing or cooking. Cindy was more awake, though grew sleepy as I talked.
Am I jealous of Charissa’s extra support and cooked meals during her caregiver stint? Of course not. Though neither do I feel like I am in an enviable position myself. This caregiver vacation has served as a time for reflection but not rejuvenation. Honestly? I would need to go hiking for a week for rejuvenation, or maybe spend a week in a mountain cabin, or maybe have companionship. That is who I am.
Day Seven, Thursday
My last day at the resort featured heavy rains, flooding and even tornado warnings. I spent the whole day in my villa. Unlike Saturday, I avoided the feeling of lounging by working on a few different projects, this blog post being one of them.
I do not feel antsy to get back tomorrow, but neither do I feel reluctant to leave. This has been my existence the past few years, a surreal existence with muted highs and lows, equivocations over the meanings of everything, feeling good and bad all at once over everything I do, the existence of a caregiver. That is who I am.
