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Caregiving

The ones that change our minds….

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People get into the healthcare field because they like to work with, well, people…….don’t they??

Doctors, nurses, social workers, techs or aides, pharmacists…..no wait a minute…..

NOT pharmacists or anesthesiologists or x-ray techs or lab techs, they don’t wanna work with people,  do they? 

That’s not the point. Really. 

The point is, I went back to school at the age of 42 to get my Masters in Social Work because I like to work with people. 

Most of the time.

A lot of the time.

Ok, ok…….some of the time. 

Truthfully? People can be assholes. 

But there are the shining stars, the golden apples, the bees knees, the ones we don’t forget. The ones that are the very reason that we work with people.

THE ONE

Mister W was one of those guys. A 58 year old Veteran with seizure disorder who came to my work place due to a massive seizure. He could no longer feed himself, dress himself, bathe or toilet himself and he was agitated as hell.

Mister W flailed around in his bed and would slide down in a chair in a heartbeat if he wasn’t watched, monitored and redirected 24/7 (medical slang for 24 hours 7 days a week). Some days all he did was scream ‘Fuck YOU!’ at the top of his lungs to the lucky lady assigned as his sitter.

Mister W could not be left alone. Not for a second. He was in four point restraints meaning his wrists and ankles were wrapped and tied to the bed. Inhumane? Perhaps. But this was for his safety……..at first. 

My office was just down the hall from Mister W’s room. I heard his yelling, his frustration, his sadness and desperation. He wasn’t ‘my’ patient meaning he was not on my team. I was not his social worker. But his angst spoke to me. I had to see who he was and learn his story. 

I began to come to his room in the morning to say Good Morning and in the evening before I left work to say Good Night. The ladies that sat with him were frustrated and annoyed by his constant movement. This one patient was a full time assignment. But that was just it, he was more than an assignment. He was a person. A man. A son. A father. 

Sometimes we lose sight of who people are when they are in circumstances that are different than the norm. It is those of us who dedicate our lives to be caregivers and medical professionals that need to reign our jaded attitudes. We signed up to serve.

After years of being ‘beaten’, verbally abused and unappreciated by friends, family and patients we become angry and bitter. Tired of the red tape, tired of the ignorance, we grow a jagged edge.

Mr W. softened my edge. His violent screams of profanity made me wonder. I visited multiple times a day for weeks and weeks. The family and medical staff truly did not know what to do for him.

I knew what I could do. I could show him I cared.

Some days I went in to give him a hand massage, turn on his favorite Judge Judy, make sure someone was coming that evening to cut his hair, or simply hold his hand.

He spoke few words but always acknowledged my presence…..

One day, I came in and grabbed his hand, greeting him with a ‘Morning W. ‘

He threw himself in my direction and said, ‘Morning! I am happy.’

I was surprised and pleased. I asked him why he was happy…..

‘Because you love me,’ he said. ‘You really do love me.’ Tears sprung to my eyes and I pushed my wide smile forward to fight the tears. 

‘Yes, I sure do love you W,’ I said, ‘I sure do.’ I grabbed his hand tighter and stayed a bit longer that morning.

From that day forward…..

our exchanges were different. He knew my face and he knew I cared.

He didn’t need to know who I was or why I was there…..he needed to know that I was. 

Just as a newborn baby, human or animal, imprints upon a non-biological being, Mr. W recognized me as a caring, loving being consistently there for him. 

Sometimes we forget. Caregivers, parents, adult children, mates……we can do so much with so little effort. Some days it seems like it is never enough. In all reality, it is never too little. 

Caregiving

Lion King

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Little Man and I went to see the new ‘Beyonce’ version of The Lion King today. The movie is a classic.

I graduated from college the year the original was released. I learned every word to every song while it played in the background of each child I babysat that summer. I’d watched it probably 200 times that summer and I cried EVERY. SINGLE. TIME that Mufasa died.

Today was not different.

It was an early morning showing fundraiser for a cool organization called Touching Young Lives. https://touchingyounglives.com/ so I was feeling good about being able to see the movie and do some good at the same time.

Sadly the theater was pretty empty, although it began to gain popularity just after the movie began. YOU”RE LATE FOLKS.

Nonetheless, we armed ourselves with popcorn and sugar and sat near the back on the right side. Luckily there were no others within ear shot of my veritable sobs throughout the film.

The opening of the movie….the scenes of Africa, the animals running in their native land and the music gave me and lil man chills. Mid way through he leaned to me and said ‘this is the best movie I’ve ever seen’.

Agreed son.

All the feels….

This film is raw emotion at the most basic level. The circle of life, the power and emotion of life through the joys of birth, the grief of death, the struggle for power, the battle of good and evil. It is RAW. I felt every bit of it. Was it the lack of serotonin I am currently experiencing or just me allowing myself to FEEL?

That’s what this is really about. Feeling. Why are we so conflicted about feeling? My son has powerful feelers. He loves music and drama and MUSICALS. He likes to dance and sing (though sadly he is tone deaf and daughter and I can’t bare to tell him yet) and yet he holds back often.

WHY? Because society does not want us to FEEL!

Don’t SHOW your feelings people!!!

Wait, WHAT? Don’t show my feelings?

No. Others don’t like to hear or watch you assert your feelings upon them. Keep it to yourself.

No one wants to see another person crying. It makes THEM feel uncomfortable. We’re all guilty.

Stop telling our boys not to cry. Let the tears flow, feel the feels and be vulnerable and open. Let life flow with emotion.

Amen to that.

Caregiving

Waking Up Like An Empowered BadAss

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I WOKE UP LIKE THIS.

It’s rare that I spring from bed feeling like taking on the world. This morning, my son woke me up too early for a Sunday, at least in my mind. It was 8:20 am. Who am I kidding, my ass should have been up already.

So, after checking IG, FB and Tinder – all terrible habits I hope to one day dispose of- I showered and suddenly felt energized. So energized in fact that I made a video of myself in the bathroom (don’t worry I was fully clothed at this point).

Empowerment is another really trendy term. You can google search it, images for it, find empowerment temples, schools and classes. It’s EVERYWHERE. But in this transitional time in my life, it is truly fitting. I knew in the back of my mind that my divorce would set me free.

My husband was not a bad man, let me set that straight. But I was struggling. I felt restrained.

Our relationship was choking me.

So waking up this morning, separated over a year, divorced just two months I recognized that I was happy with ME.

I am happy as I am, with who I am and where I am. The feelings of being emancipated, unyoked, unfettered, unshackled, unchained were so real.

WHY AM I A BADASS? (I mean, empowered…..)

Do you know what I did with this feeling???

I changed the fucking light bulb for my rear brake light. I KNOW!!!
Am I a  BADASS or WHAT???

I intend to go through my day just like this.

Badass Extraordinaire.
Kicking Ass and taking names.

Even when it starts to rain and my newly coiffed hair flops. Even when my teenager throws me attitude. Even when my mother repeats herself for the 35th time at brunch today.

I am hangin’ on to this BADASS attitude. Care to join me? Think about what we could do as women feeling as empowered as I do right now. Let’s hang onto this feeling.

Look out for us middle aged badass bitches world.

LOOK OUT.

The Subtle Art of Not Giving A Fuck
Midlife Crisis

Judgment in Life and Social Work

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Honesty

‘Judgement: the process of forming an opinion or evaluation by discerning and comparing‘

My daughter says I’m judgy.
‘You’re awfully judgy for a social worker, Mom.’

Enh, maybe I am. Okay, okay I am. Not to defend the act of judging, BUT being a social worker creates judgment in the act of social working.

Did you get that?

Social working needs ‘judgment’. Because you know what happens when you stop judging? You make mistakes. In social work, call it what you may, but judging character is an essential part of the job.

I have a 95 year old client. He is cared for by his ‘daughter’ and her ‘boyfriend’. The client keeps coming to the hospital and does not appear to be well managed at home. He has dementia so is an unreliable historian……in other words, we can’t believe what he says.

We believe what we SEE. We have to believe what our gut tells us, trust our senses. This is something I was reminded of time and time again over the past year.

EVERY TIME I ignored my gut, that little sinking feeling in my belly, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. I made a mistake. Something happened. It might not have been critical or traumatic, but something happened and not for the better.

We need to learn to trust our guts. As I age, this is one thing I am becoming better and better at doing………..

If my gut tells me that your interest in me is for ulterior motives, I immediately move on.

If my gut tells me not to go my usual route for work, I choose an alternate.

If my gut tells me the guy begging to take my daughter out is no good, it’s a solid no.

My gut does not lead me astray and yours doesn’t either. Maybe you’re just not listening.
Pay better attention.

So, what happened with my client and his caregivers?
I listened to my gut. I trusted myself. His caregivers came in to meet with the medical team. They were disheveled, wreaked of cigarettes and were covered in tattoos. Their dentition was poor and their language was crude. If I left my comments at that, and determined they were poor caregivers, THAT might be judgy. But, I noticed.

They were defensive of their abilities and accusatory of malpractice and poor care from every other provider ever encountered. They blamed. I listened. And, quite honestly, I judged.

Not surprisingly, we discovered while coordinating my client’s discharge, that there was an open Adult Protective Services case on this man. His home environment had been reported unsafe and was being investigated. He would not return home just yet.

So, the old song ‘Listen to Your Heart‘ by Roxette a la 1988 remains true. Heart, gut, inner voice. Whatever term you choose. Listen. Judge. Trust. You will thank yourself later.

For the Love of Jake

Not my dog’s life

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Animals are a big part of my life. As a kid, my mother FORBID me to have a dog or a cat no matter how hard I cried or how pathetic my begging became. I got a hamster when I was eleven. Big Whoop. But I loved him. Charlie was a ratty looking furry thing that one day managed to jump from under a hat on my bed and land himself into my Barbie dream car. The level of panic I had for his possible loss was an accurate expression of my love for him. Since that time I have loved many hamsters.

My senior year of college I rescued a cat from the local shelter. Jordan would live to be 18 and ripped part of my heart out when she died. There have been many cats, kittens, pups and dogs as fosters through multiple rescues. Some of those fur babies joined the family. Buddy was my very first dog. He was a rescue from the streets of Baltimore. A coworker found him ‘chasing’ kids on the bus stop for a morsel of food. To this day, he was the best dog I owned, or as some say, who found me.

Buddy

Many, many animals have come to my home. Blind cats, deaf puppies (don’t recommend them), mamas and their litters, tripods, passive, aggressive, annoying, sweeter than you can imagine. My children have learned to live with and care for dogs and cats that we foster and adopt to new homes, new families. It is hard to let go but incredibly rewarding. Rescue is, without question, the way to go. But sometimes, you just don’t know what you will get.

And then there was Jake……

Jake came to us through Mama’s Shelter https://www.mamasanimalshelter.com/

His soft eyes and pretty coat were appealing to me. I always had pitbulls and though I adored them, I was attracted to this handsome blonde boy. Jake was about one year old and described as man’s (woman’s) best friend. His prior history was a mystery but he was reported to be kind, loyal and a tad anxious. It would be many months before I understood what that meant.

Jake was driven from the shelter in South Carolina to me in Baltimore. According to the volunteers that drove him, he spent most of his time on the floor of the passenger side of their cars, panting. He was nervous for sure.

Jake

Jake was heart worm positive and had just been treated two days before he came to us. We had the neighbors over to watch a Ravens game and Jake sat, emaciated and scared between my husband and neighbor. He was grateful but concerned. Over the next couple of weeks, Jake became accustomed to the 4 cats and 1 other dog who owned our home prior to his arrival. He became part of the family. But, there was no question he was my dog. He rarely left my side and didn’t seem to be able to lie or sit comfortably without having me in his sight. It was not until we moved from the city to the county less than a year after Jake came to us that we saw the level of angst and fear that crippled this poor four legged boy.

  • There it is…..destruction unearthed in a desperate fight to find Mama

There would be no end in sight, no answers, relief, medication, therapy, training or peace for Jake for many, many years.

Caregiving

4 Ways To Care for YOU While Caring for Others

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Daughter, Sister, Mother, Aunt, Social Worker………

Each of us have caregiving roles in our lives. We aren’t all parents. Your care giving may be to a furry baby, an elderly neighbor, or a spouse who is ill and requires your care and attention. Caregiving is exhausting. If there were ever a time to embrace self-care, it is in the midst of giving care to another.

Studies indicate that caregiving can actually be hazardous to your health! Single parents, parents of special needs children, caregivers for those with terminal illness, dementia, a new baby, ALL are providers of care to one less able or fortunate. What do all these caregivers have in common? They (we) are all unpaid. Sometimes our hard work goes unappreciated. Much of the care our loved ones receive is completed while we are also working, caring for others, trying to maintain friendships and a household, buy groceries, take care of the dog, have some clean clothes, and enjoy life! It is HARD WORK.

This past year was one of the most trying I have ever experienced. I don’t say this for pity or attention, merely stating facts. This year SUCKED. I got divorced. My Jamaican best friend’s son died in a tragic accident and my mother’s dementia progressed. My daughter began to self-harm through cutting and required two inpatient hospitalizations. She also needed a tonsillectomy and a ligament repair of her knee just five months apart. She will complete the remainder of her academic year via E-learning coping with isolation and stigma. You might say her year sucked more than mine!

In the midst of all this, I began a new job in a new healthcare system that is less user friendly than any I have experienced. I was afraid I would not keep my head afloat. People close to me shake their heads and ask how to help……but these were all things I had to manage on my own. So, how did I tread water?

#1 This too shall pass…..

It’s cliche, I know. But the reality is that I have been through some pretty rough times in my life. I made it. I was divorced once before. My Dad died just four days before my daughter was born. I was a single mother with my daughter for six years. Those experiences all made me tougher, more resilient. They made me the woman I am today. And here I am to tell you about it. Remember this cliche, because it is all too accurate.

#2 You are not alone.

I mean, you might be alone, literally. But you’re not on this earth alone! There are so many ways to reach out to people these days. Facebook keeps us all so well connected. There were days that a simple, ‘I’m here for you’ from an old friend or the ability to message someone I see experiencing similar events can be incredibly helpful. Not to mention those 200 Happy Birthday wishes from near and far….they just about make my year. Better yet, pick up the phone, grab a coffee or beer with a friend.

#3 Find a Support Group

I was never a fan of support groups. I’m far from shy. But sharing my deepest and darkest in a room full of strangers seemed, I don’t know….weird? When my father died I went to the hospice support group and encouraged my mother to do the same. When caring for my mother and raising my children became more of a daunting task, I searched online for comfort. What I found was a fabulous group of women feeling, acting and looking for the same things as me. I was lucky enough to discover Daughterhood. https://www.daughterhood.org/circles-2/baltimore/

Daughterhood is an incredible organization formed by an amazing woman, Anne Tumlinson, who has made advocating for our most vulnerable seniors at the legislative level her mission. You can read about the circle of women I began in my hometown. Selfishly, I started this group. Ironically, I have found more love and support from the women in the group, have helped others and have gained and maintained some new friendships.

#4 Let Go of the Guilt

This is my hardest reality. Guilt is a useless emotion. It tortures us. But we all experience guilt and I think caregivers experience it at record levels. Self-care and caregiving battle on the highest ground. In order to be a good caregiver, I need to care for myself. But, if I care for myself, I will have to step away from caring for other. I struggle with this. Yet still, I get my nails done. I go out for a night with girlfriends, I choose to stay home and watch Netflix, I listen to a Jay Shetty podcast. Without even knowing, I am providing self care. Take a bath, pour some wine, read that book, take a nap! These acts are all unworthy of guilt but you are worthy of them.

Jamaica

JAMAICA- Out of Many, One People

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Sunset at Coral Cove

It will come as no surprise to anyone that knows me, Jamaica is a big part of my life. If you know me you may also be painfully aware that I will never tire of talking about Jamaica. I don’t intend to create a blog about traveling the world, but I will talk endlessly about traveling Jamaica. The people, the music, the food, the culture……One Love.

I first came to JA as a young college student in 1993. My cousin was teaching as a Jesuit volunteer in Kingston, the Jamaican capitol. His younger brother and I flew in to visit for our spring break. To say my love and passion for Jamaica was instant is no overstatement. The patois/patwa (the local English based language with West African influence), some of which I could not piece together, rolled off the tongue of smiling, kind faces. The reggae beats, strong but soothing, the sights and sun, the jerk chicken, pork and curried goat created an instant obsession for my taste buds. The welcoming people were intoxicating to me. This was a culture I had never felt before. I immediately wanted to be a part of it.

My cousin showed us as much of the island as we could drive in a week. We, unwisely, rented a car and drove the island. There were many times I feared for my life as we were driving on the wrong side of the road. Drivers are aggressive and careless and speed has no limit. Not to mention my cousin’s poor driving skills….

I am lucky to tell this story.

LITTLE BAY FISHING VILLAGE

My son in the midst of OUR Jamaica. Little Bay, Westmoreland

Many years and many trips later, I have developed strong friendships, trust and absolute unconditional love for this third world country, the third largest in the Caribbean.

My children, ages 9 and 16, have each made more trips than they can count and prefer to vacation nowhere else in the world.

My dream is to live part time in JA. Perhaps retire there. Is there crime and danger? Of course. Name a place where there is none. By immersing ourselves into the culture and accepting and embracing it as our own brings nothing but joy, experience and respect in Jamaica. One Love.

Caregiving

One Day Vacation

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It could change your life! Ok, it could change your attitude!

When I was a teenager, the thing I enjoyed most about having my driver’s license was the ability to leave the house and just drive. There were times I had no agenda, no intentions of seeing a friend or going shopping, I just drove. More often than not. I ended up driving out towards a woman I used to babysit for. She lived in what my mom considered ‘the country’ but was really just the northern part of our county.

I saw horses, smelled cows and turned corners we didn’t have in the city or the part of the county where I grew up. There was nothing spectacular. It was simple. It was a change of venue. Our eyes, minds, olfactory senses get stagnant. When we see the same sights, hear the same sounds and experience the same routines day after day, our minds get fuzzy. Or, at least, mine does.

Give your mind a vacation. Set your sights on something outside of your norm. If you’re a go-getter, take a pottery class. If you’re more of a hermit and prefer to keep to yourself, get out there and plan an adventure!

6 Ways To Get-A-Way For The Day

Take a class. Sign up online, watch one on Youtube or go to your local community college and audit!

https://www.coursera.org/

Go to the library. Today there is even more to do in a library than when we were kids.

https://www.buzzfeed.com/mattortile/49-breathtaking-libraries-from-all-over-the-world?utm_source=dynamic&utm_campaign=bfsharecopy

Meet a friend for tea at the Ritz. If you haven’t done it, you should. My bougiest best friend took me 20+ years ago in London. I’ll still never forget it.

http://www.ritzcarlton.com

Volunteer at the zoo or local animal shelter. Volunteer wherever you like! https://www.volunteermatch.org

Test drive your dream car. As crazy as it is, the Tahoe is still my favorite vehicle. Gave my old one to my ex. Cried on the way to the lot to buy my new car. Miss it to this day. https://www.edmunds.com/chevrolet/tahoe/2019/suv/

Check out my absolute FAVORITE travel website and look at what others have done in your city. No need to reinvent the wheel. https://www.tripadvisor.com/ShowTopic-g1-i12357-k5208300-Best_One_Day_or_Weekend_Cities_to_Visit-Solo_Travel.html

Midlife Crisis

Life is no highway, it’s an ass-kicking roller coaster……

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Hang on Tight!

You know the feeling you get in your stomach when you’re riding a roller coaster? You’re at the very tippy top and know the cart is just about to go flying down the track any minute……suddenly you’re flying through the air with just a hunk of metal under your butt and a flimsy seatbelt strapped across your chest. Everything in the upper half of your body jolts and you are nauseated, exhilarated and terrified all at once. I don’t like roller coasters. Little did I know, my life would become one.

I will never forget the feeling. The roller coaster ride had begun long before this day. In fact, the ride began the day we said ‘I do’. We were always arguing, always fussing. He was needy and I was intolerant. It was not a good match. I had listened to the book about knowing when your marriage is over and how to rescue it. The Gottman method and his four horsemen – criticism, contempt, defensiveness, and stonewalling. All four of those horsemen were galloping through our home. I knew it was over, I just didn’t know how to say goodbye.

Stonewalling

The message on Facebook from a stranger I glimpsed at one evening left me sitting at the tippy top of that roller coaster ride until I could get dinner cleaned up and put my son to bed.

I went out to my porch to enjoy my wine in solace. The front porch is my haven. Sitting there gives me peace. That night, there would not be peace in my home, my mind or in my life for many weeks to come.

The message began, “Hi Betsy. I met… (my husband) a couple months ago online and we have been out a couple of times – I just would like to make sure you and he are truly separated so as not to cause any problems or disrespect. Hope you don’t mind me reaching out. “

The metal under my butt flew right out from under me and my heart dove into my toes. I was afraid I might throw up. All the blood drained from my face. I wanted to scream and curse and beat the shit out of that dumbass in the house. I was also afraid. Afraid of what I might do to him. Afraid of my future. Afraid for my son whose father just betrayed his mother. Afraid for my daughter who now has never had a stable male role model in her life. Even afraid of how my husband would survive without me. I knew at that very moment, I could choose to crumble or I could survive. I chose to survive.

This blog is about survival. In fact, it is about more than survival. It is about blooming in the face of adversity. More than my story there are thousands, no, millions of us who have one version or another of the same roller coaster ride. Surviving, thriving and blooming as a middle-aged woman, starting and standing again.