Stories from Caregivers: Celeste from NORTH CAROLINA
NC
Celeste
FROM NORTH CAROLINA
Without a steady paycheck, I have lived on God's blessings for the past six years. In June 2011, my position as Director, New Product Development with an education not-for-profit in Arlington, Virginia was eliminated due to budget constraints. Thanks to a generous severance package and the dramatic increase in the value of my Northern Virginia home, I woke up the next morning filled with peace. After twelve years, I could finally stop being two people - a program manager and a family caregiver. I am on a professional detour while I do the most important spiritual work of my life - helping my mother, Willene complete her journey. Willene is a petite, 93-year old African-American woman with a ready smile, a joyful spirit and, sadly, dementia. My mother no longer knows her age, the day of the week, the year or the season. We have carried out the same morning rituals each day for over a decade. My alarm clock sounds at 6:30 am. In turn, I wake my mother. I help her shower, pick out clothes appropriate for the weather, clean her eyeglasses, insert her hearing aids and comb her wig. Then, we go into the kitchen. I test her blood sugar and set out her morning medication. I make breakfast and afterwards, I brush her teeth. In the evening, I cook and serve a low sodium, low carb, heart-healthy dinner and do the dishes. While cleaning up the kitchen, I prepare and pack lunch for my mother to take to adult day care at the Ivey the following day. Then, I lay out her pajamas, brush her teeth and put drops in her eyes for glaucoma. Typically, I spend upwards of 30 hours per week taking care of my mother. I accompany her to medical appointments and serve as her advocate with doctors, dieticians and audiologists. I monitor her inventory of eleven prescription medications, fill her weekly pill boxes and re-order as necessary. I launder and iron her clothes and clean her room. Since my mother is diabetic, I monitor her food choices in restaurants and other peoples' homes. I pay her bills. Three times a week, I accompany her to an exercise class for people with heart disease. In addition, I provide transportation to adult day care, church and other outings. On weekends and weekday evenings, I serve as my mother's companion. Thankfully, I have a small network of paid and volunteer caregivers who occasionally provide evening and weekend respite so I can have a social life. As the only daughter in a small family, caregiving has fallen to me. When my mother was young, she held a variety of jobs - cleaning lady, cafeteria worker and even elevator operator. Although she only had a high school diploma, Willene always encouraged me to go to college. I owe my mother a debt I can never repay. When I was a little girl, she read aloud to me every day. This early exposure to letters, phonics and stories gave me a lifelong love of learning and provided a platform for success in school beginning in kindergarten and culminating in graduate school. Trained in economics at Yale and marketing at Harvard Business School, the program-manager jobs I held in the private sector, government and the not-for-profit sector usually required long hours and came with lots of stress. I decided to take a break from full-time work to manage my mother's physical and mental care. Given Willene's mental state, I hold her life in my hands. No one else is going to take care of my mother like I do. To stay out of the full-time workforce, I knew I needed to sell my primary asset - a nondescript two-bedroom condo. We had lived in our home in Arlington, Virginia for fourteen years. We loved our life there - with its friendly church, excellent adult day care, and proximity to Washington, DC's myriad cultural offerings. Located one block from a popular metro (i.e. subway) stop and a major shopping mall, I had watched the home prices in our Pentagon City neighborhood rise dramatically for over a decade. Because I used to live in Charlotte, NC, I realized the cost of housing in the South was nearly 50 percent cheaper than it was in the Washington, DC area. If we relocated to North Carolina, my mother and I could make ends meet. Despite dementia, my mother has thrived as my roommate, companion and friend for the past eighteen years. While I help my mother with the activities of daily living, she helps me with the activities of victorious living. My mother's graceful approach to aging has, in turn, helped me accept my own aging, typified by gray hair and hot flashes. Her resilient spirit has served as a model for my own willingness to move wherever God leads me. Moreover, our relationship has taught me that caregiving produces wonderful fruit - compassion, kindness, faithfulness, gratitude and, of course, love.
