26 Comments
User's avatar
Maxine McCleery Bowden's avatar

Yep. I sometimes have to turn my head so I don’t jump in. He can do quite a lot. And it takes time. And I just let that be. ❤️💔❤️

Carolyn Malone's avatar

I hear you. I see you. ❤️

Charles Kochan's avatar

I guess if it was me, I’d just butter his bread and feel good I helped. Letting him fumble while watching would hurt me. That’s just my view. Ask at the caregiver’s lunch Tuesday. Be curious as to the consensus.

Carolyn Malone's avatar

I hear you, Charles. The symposium speaker gave me a lot to think about regarding dignity and independence.

Charles Kochan's avatar

Apparently this ruffled a few feathers, but please ask at your next meeting, to hear real life ideas, not those of a speaker who must appeal to a wide audience. :)

Jamie Wilson's avatar

That’s the tricky part- did you help? If you jump in are you jumping in because you are uncomfortable? How about learning to be uncomfortable and giving the partner respect and time to be self sufficient- independent. I resonate with this from both sides—-

Charles Kochan's avatar

I stated that was my preference and don't need a conscience check for talking about what works for me; what works for you is fine. I would like to hear the caregiver's group opinion. You have no idea what others have had to bear in life, as have I no idea what you have to bear. Good night.

Jamie Wilson's avatar

So sorry to offend. Not my intention. For myself, I have 40 years of Rheumatoid Arthritis which has left me unable to do many things perfectly, I do them slowly in my own way and am happy. My husband has Alzheimer’s and he absolutely does not want help. It might take him three days to do something that used to take 4 hours. He expresses the satisfaction and joy of doing the project himself. So, yes—we each have our background

Charles Kochan's avatar

My wife has MS but is stubborn. Does not like help. You seem very nice. That RA can be brutal. Nowadays some good meds vs years ago just gold shots steroids and hope.

Lynn J. Broderick's avatar

Great post, Carolyn. Reminded me of my dad in the nursing home. After that debilitating stroke that landed him there, he couldn’t speak or feed himself and needed a lift. Over time, he could hold a utensil and wouldn’t let anyone help him (except me), no matter how long eating was going to take . He’d be the last one in the dining room and the nurses would just keep checking on him. He was so determined and amazingly resilient after all he’d been through. Eating was one thing he could do and dammit he was going to do it. It’s got to be difficult watching the decline of your husband. My heart goes out to you!

Kimberly Dunham's avatar

Thank you.

Carolyn Malone's avatar

You’re very welcome. ❤️

Marge Farrington's avatar

Excellent! And thank you for sharing your personal experience with your loved one. It helps, with a loved one people care for, and themselves. I am in pretty good shape for 68, but I struggle with little things. It puts things in perspective.

Carolyn Malone's avatar

Thank you, Marge. I’m so glad it gave you a different perspective.

PamWhatAm's avatar

Thank you for sharing this. I didn't know I needed to hear your perspective. It certainly makes sense.

Carolyn Malone's avatar

I’m glad it resonated.

Diane Ferguson's avatar

Such a hard lesson to work with. I definitely went through this caring for my mom. Sidenote: my brother had a stroke and was in a rehabilitation hospital for stroke patients—and they served the food with those seals that are impossible to get off even when our hands are working. And no large cutlery. It made no sense.

Valerie Beliard's avatar

This piece is so quiet and tender. There’s something really beautiful about how you write buttering his bread as this small, everyday act that somehow carries so much care.

What I loved most is that it doesn’t try to be dramatic. It’s just a moment, but it feels like love in the simplest way. Buttering bread is not a grand gesture, but it says, I see you, I’m here, I want you to feel good.

I also appreciated how this captures the way intimacy lives in small things. Not the big moments, but the tiny ones we repeat over time. The way someone knows how you like your bread, or how they make coffee for you without asking. Those are the things that build a life.

Thank you for writing this with so much warmth. It made me think about how much love is in the ordinary stuff, the things we do without thinking. Sometimes the smallest acts are the ones that mean the most.

Shelly Besancon's avatar

When I married my first husband, his mother was from that era. She was visiting when we were fairly new in the marriage, and he was going to be coming home from work. She was mortified that I wasn't going to go change and freshen up for him and have dinner ready for him. My family wasn't like that. I think we had to many of us. 14 siblings. 😁 She learned quick that I wasn't going to freshen up for him. 🤣

Sylvia G's avatar

Thanks Carolyn for this. In my many years as a medical social worker/case manager I worked with lots of clients with cognitive/physical disabilities and/or dementia(s). I agree that each individual is entitled to retain his/her dignity. I absolutely love that your husband does the laundry and that you just intervene when and if necessary without fanfare. Everyone wants to feel useful. It is amazing how many household tasks even bedbound people can do like pairing/folding socks, organizing a small draw contents etc. Everyone likes to feel useful, especially doing what is familiar for people with cognitive issues.

Re the syrup and butter packets - in my world these would not exist. Too much packaging waste that is usually not recyclable. Whatever happened to pats of butter on a piece of cardboard or syrup in those small reusable individual pouring vessels. Honestly, I have so much trouble getting packaging open it drives me crazy. I always have scissors in my kitchen for this reason.

It is ridiculous given the size of the population of people considered to be “seniors” that restaurants make going out to eat so hard. I found that this type of stuff kept a lot of my clients home for meals as they did not want to be embarrassed eating out. The food industry should be embarrassed for not making eating out easier for everyone.

Anyway, I love that you are supportive but not interfering. You are a great role model Carolyn.

Sulyn2's avatar

I run into similar situations here and am learning to do my best and not intervene. Some things he has noticed about himself like not being able to do some of his usual chores due to fatigue. So I make it a point to ask him for his help whenever I need it, even if there is a quicker alternative solution available. It’s important to me that he feels needed.

Charles Kochan's avatar

The speaker is in front of a big audience, he is trying to speak to generalities, yet as individuals we have a person in front of us in need and we have an individual decision to make. I think it’s a case by case thing. Wishing you well on your journey

christopher cressey's avatar

I have a longtime friend who has been steadily declining in function for a while now. He used to live independently until he fell one too many times and his daughters found him bleeding on the floor, again. He lives in a board and care place so that someone is always there and meals are provided, removing the temptation to stand unsteadily trying to prepare food at irregular times. His health has improved measurably with consistent balanced meals, predictable sleep hours and zero falling. I take him out often for a change of scenery and meals that do not reflect the ethnicity of the caregivers.. variety Is a treat..he relies on a wheelchair now and has pronounced tremors..so food is often in his lap and doesn’t stay on a utensil from plate to his mouth. It took me a long time Not to intervene.

Carolyn Malone's avatar

Thank you for sharing, Christopher. It sounds like you’ve learned the same difficult lesson I am still learning — not to intervene. Hard lesson.

christopher cressey's avatar

The need to revisit this shows up all the time!