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My husband Michael returned to the hospital this morning for another “small” procedure (he has long covid complications). I wish that I was not a frequent-hospital-patient’s-plus-one. Yet, when all is said and done, I’d rather it be me standing next to the bedside of my family, than anyone else. This procedure was meant to only be a day procedure. However, from experience, it was best to err on the side of caution, therefore Michael is staying overnight.

This time of year, from spring until January next year, is what I refer to as our Maverick. Maverick is the giant wave professional surfers chase off Pillar Point Harbour, Northern California. It is known to be one of the most dangerous and treacherous waves, and those who ride the Maverick are hailed as Titans. For me, this season from now until January is my race to be a Titan! This is a look inside what being a caregiver is like for me.

Why is this season more challenging?

Savannah is more anxious during this time. She experiences the change of the season into Spring in ways which makes her physically uncomfortable. To cope, Savannah self-injures. She has improved so much in this, but it is still a coping strategy that she defaults to. Savannah is not even aware that she hurts herself. It is not severe and nothing that Dettol and keeping the skin clean won’t heal, as well as strategies to redirect her and to increase her awareness of what she is doing. Still, just seeing her abrasions, and feeling like I am not doing enough, takes something out of me that is mentally and emotionally exhausting.

Three years ago, an occupational therapist worked with Savannah towards her overall wellness. We have maintained and seen an increase in her wellness since then. Savannah never slept through the night before that, and her longest length of sleeplessness was about three weeks straight. Since her time with the occupational therapist, Savannah only wakes up some nights. That is a huge blessing. However, during this Maverick season, she tends to call out more often while asleep.

Then there are the celebrations like Diwali, Guy Fawkes, and New Year’s Eve when sometimes there are fireworks. In the last few years, Savannah copes much better on these actual days but in the weeks and months prior, she is fixated on what sounds will be heard. She talks about it relentlessly.

Added to this year’s Maverick season, is the uncertainty with Michael’s health and the challenges we’ve had with our car. Savannah takes both issues very personally. She is looking forward to some events over the next weeks and months with friends and family but now that her brain is in anxiety mode mixed with excitement, she needs much more support to cope.

Roll back to this present moment, and Michael’s procedure.

Savannah is very sweet and wants to be near him to pray for him. When she hears Michael having an asthma-related issue, her anxiety deepens. Hence, this was partly the reason for him to stay in the hospital overnight to fully recover and maybe lessen Savannah’s worries.

This is our reality. It doesn’t phase me as much as it is exhausting for me. Still, I cope. I learnt to breathe deeply and get the next task or job done while redirecting Savannah or talking her through it. When I watch surfers barrel a Maverick, I feel like that is an analogy that resonates with how I feel. Like a surfer in a tube of a wave, trying with all her strength to keep her balance to ride out the Maverick without falling.

I also know that no one is coming to save me from this. People will help. They will offer advice, a meal, a shoulder but every morning it remains up to me to get up out of bed, face the day and be brave enough to go again down the rabbit holes of my daughters’ mind and my husband’s health.

How do I cope?

I acknowledge that this is a tough role to sustain. Instead of having a fixed plan to cope, I have several options that I can interject into my day without it feeling like another stretch for my mind and my heart. My activity of preference is walking. When I can’t make the time to do that, I listen to a favourite playlist or a podcast, talk with people who I enjoy being with, or I write. And I love trees. Seriously, love trees. I photograph trees wherever I am.

I also lean into my faith where I trust that God cares for me too. Sometimes I cast my worries on Him, other times I am loud or silently weeping to a friend. At times, I am questioning, and other times I dance joyfully. Always I am not holding these highs and lows hidden inside me. I have a fulfilling life outside of caring for my family too because I need to be in the spaces of my ministry and work to remain soft.

Often family caregivers tell me that it is easier said than done. To have any life outside of being a caregiver. This is true.

So, say it, and keep saying it. Over and over. Until your ears carry it to your heart and mind. Until someone else can hold you, listen to you and help you. Until you know you have your soft space inside of you.

You matter too. Your joy, your dreams, your experiences, your challenges..it all matters. To help make it easier for you to go from saying it to doing it, tell me in the comments one activity, routine, or indulgence that you miss doing, and how you think you can start at it again.

Information about Savannah is shared with her permission.

Just when I decided to start writing, it seems as if my world has tilted and requires all my strength including my reserves to get it back on even keel. Suddenly I can’t find time to write as every ounce of me is consumed with just making everyday life run smoothly.

Yet insistently and persistently a couple of ideas are impatiently marinating in my head. Each insisting it should be written first. But NO. Right now I have to bring myself to a point of order:

a. Find a domestic worker/helper as soon as possible. The back story here is that our helper left us suddenly and without warning. I can only deduce that she wasn’t prepared to continue working with someone whose health goes more down than up. That someone being Savannah. So after two weeks of doing as much as I can to keep this home running, I need help! Did I just admit that? Will the sky darken over me? Will a storm erupt around me? Oh wow…I feel the sunlight. The most important people in my life, my inspiration; my husband and children need me alert and engaged. And yes, maybe I can be Wonder Woman (trumpet blares) work full-time; keep house; be the physiotherapist; be the good AAC communication partner; be mom to my special needs, medically complex twenty-one year old; be mom to an almost, not quite fifteen year old; while nursing my son through the longest infection he has had to date. But will I be nice? Will I remember who needs what meds? Will I shout more and talk less? What will they remember about these days? Mmmmmm….got to find that helper.

b. Take better care of my hubby. He hardly sleeps. He wakes all through the night to tend to Savannah and more recently Eli. He arranges his schedule to get me to and from the airport when I travel or to drop or collect children when my mum can’t get them from school. He is my co-conspirator, my best friend and basically the reason why I still appear to be a fairly nice, well-adjusted person. Without him, I can morph into Maleficent combined with a little Captain Barbosa. My darling husband would dispute all of this and say all sorts of kind, beautiful things. And he would say he doesn’t need anything else but me looking after me which brings me to point of order c;

c. Take care of me. So fellow parents of children with complex needs, there is that darn age-old conundrum: Take care of yourselves while checking all the tick boxes on the “absolute must be done” list for our special needs lives to thrive.

As families where someone has special needs we know the stats on divorce, family dysfunction, burn-out etc. People are always too ready to point out those issues which are largely unhelpful to know about.

Here in good old South Africa, and I’m sure many other parts of the world too; we have absolutely no help from the government. We cannot depend on public services for aid with in-home care for a person with special needs.

Nor do we receive any aid for domestic services. Either we do it all ourselves or we work hard to pay people to help us (knowing full well we must be ready at any given moment to step in when they let us down) or we must simply pick our battles: I’ll be a great mother and a mediocre physio coach or a fair communication partner or I’ll just be a good enough cook today…but whatever I’ll be; I’ll be it honestly.

For now that means I’m honestly enjoying snuggling with my son; picking through his delightful, crazy questions. While Savannah listens to the same song for the hundredth time this evening and we both know she will survive without a physio session tonight. The ironing will get done another time and the Whatsapp messages will be answered tomorrow.

Right now, I’m helping someone really important:ME.

 

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