How do you feel?
By M on Thursday 18 January 2007, 18:26 - Journal - Permalink
So, how do you feel after your mother has hit you on the head with a
trash can?
Received wisdom says you might feel angry, affronted, abused, shocked, surprised, frightened, furious, perhaps even sympathetic. In my case, it is none of the above.
I felt angry at the time, but more because mum was not complying with my idea of how to deal with her cut finger than because she'd clocked me one. Today, having slept on it, I feel two quite different emotions, neither of which is particularly 'politically correct': amusement and boredom.
I'm amused because I can appreciated the farcical qualities of the scenario in which a frail old woman attacks a six foot three man and gets away with it. I'm amused at the schadenfreude inherent in anyone getting bopped on the head with a large and rather resonant plastic bin. But I'm bored with having to deal with this kind of nonsense. I'm bored with parents that can no longer offer anything in the way of mental stimulation - unless it is seen as some kind of test of my social ingenuity. I'm bored with the repetition. I've lost interest in being called on to deal with problems that should never happen, I cannot fix, are quickly forgotten, and sometimes don't even exist. All of our lives, mum's, dad's and mine are surely meant to be about more than this?
It is odd that the caregiver literature only rarely deals with the funny side of dementia, and never deals with the boredom. I've seen talk of 'caregiver burnout' but that is something quite distinct from the boredom. I've realised just recently that the highly constructive and exploratory attitude I originally had towards my parents' dementia has been replaced by a more pedestrian line in dutiful resignation. I wonder how common this is.
Received wisdom says you might feel angry, affronted, abused, shocked, surprised, frightened, furious, perhaps even sympathetic. In my case, it is none of the above.
I felt angry at the time, but more because mum was not complying with my idea of how to deal with her cut finger than because she'd clocked me one. Today, having slept on it, I feel two quite different emotions, neither of which is particularly 'politically correct': amusement and boredom.
I'm amused because I can appreciated the farcical qualities of the scenario in which a frail old woman attacks a six foot three man and gets away with it. I'm amused at the schadenfreude inherent in anyone getting bopped on the head with a large and rather resonant plastic bin. But I'm bored with having to deal with this kind of nonsense. I'm bored with parents that can no longer offer anything in the way of mental stimulation - unless it is seen as some kind of test of my social ingenuity. I'm bored with the repetition. I've lost interest in being called on to deal with problems that should never happen, I cannot fix, are quickly forgotten, and sometimes don't even exist. All of our lives, mum's, dad's and mine are surely meant to be about more than this?
It is odd that the caregiver literature only rarely deals with the funny side of dementia, and never deals with the boredom. I've seen talk of 'caregiver burnout' but that is something quite distinct from the boredom. I've realised just recently that the highly constructive and exploratory attitude I originally had towards my parents' dementia has been replaced by a more pedestrian line in dutiful resignation. I wonder how common this is.
Comments
Uh, oh. I feel a dissertation coming on!
This is an important point...really, really, really important, Mike. As soon as I read the word "boredom", I had to laugh. I've never used the word "bored" or any derivative, as far as I know, (I'm not going to search it, though) to describe what I do with my mother, but, you know what? I can't tell you how many times, in the past, as I've analyzed, experimented and worked to dispel what I am told is my mother's "boredom" while simultaneously acting as though I'm enthusiastic, all the while being supremely bored. I totally get that, even though your parents are capable of providing what might be considered an exciting day for any visitors (written tongue in cheek, of course), in contrast to my mother (who has yet to provide me with nearly as much "excitement" on a yearly basis as yours provide you on a visit by visit basis) such excitement also has a boredom threshhold, and it's not much higher than the one provided by my mother's phlegmatic disposition.
What I find especially interesting is that I have been under the impression that my boredom is a result of being the only person catering to my mother and, as well, someone who is ALWAYS here. This post of yours has just taught me that boredom is intrinsic to the task, no matter how many caregivers are involved in one elderly person's life and no matter how much time each caregiver puts to the task.
I can tell you, too, that I am not at all successful at working myself out of the boredom. It used to be that, with each (daily) episode, when the boredom reached the level where I could no longer ignore it, I'd think of that old saw: "Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water; After enlightenment: chop wood, carry water." I often found myself considering that I'd prefer the boredom of chopping wood and carrying water to the boredom of attending to my mother's life.
As well, for every glowing, a-few-hours-a-week-volunteer who extols the rewards of tending to the elderly (any kind of elderly, placid or excitable), there are thousands of professional attendants in facilities who daily muster the courage to face shift after shift of excruciating boredom. How do they do it? They're getting a pay check for it. It usually isn't a very big pay check, but, at the moment, the person is assuming that, for some reason, they are not capable of seeking other, less boring, better paying work. Eventually, almost all professional caregiver attendants find other work. As well, there are lots of people who feel, "You couldn't pay me enough to do that work." Guess why.
Most people, throughout most of their lives, at least in Western style societies, avoid contact with the very old, if they can, for exactly the reason you cited. It's boring. Maybe not for the first few minutes, but, believe me, there's a reason why, during family reunions, the kids informally separate themselves from the elder members to play. They aren't domesticated enough to suck it up and endure the boredom of interacting with Grandma and Grandpa.
Although I agree with you that caregiver burnout is a different phenomenon, I believe that relentless boredom is one of the contributing factors.
In addition, caregivers are constantly castigated to work hard to alleviate what is termed their charge's boredom. I have no doubt that there are bored old people, just as there are bored people in any demographic. After years of trying to alleviate what I used to consider my mother's boredom, I've finally decided that she isn't exhibiting boredom but a desire to simply observe the environment, the Earth, on which she's lived and is living her life, and observe and contemplate the entirety without distraction. Since it's six of one and half a dozen of the other as to whether she'll find a "live" event or a television show or a tabloid story stimulating, I've consigned concern about my mother's "boredom" to inactive status.
I have no answers, obviously. My final consideration is that, during pre-teen childhood, particularly (but not exclusively) the infant and toddler years, caregiving can also be boring. How many times, for instance, can parents sit through playing a round of "Candyland", engaging in "Hide and Seek" or watching "Finding Nemo" without fearing that their minds are being impaired by the repetition. There is a difference, though. Most parents take into consideration that, day by day, their children are becoming more knowledgeable, more interesting, more competent and more interactive, not only within the family but within society. Knowing them will not always be boring. Many of the elderly, though, are going the other way, relentlessly. In addition, after the elderly person's death, when people remember them, even learn from their lives, they will be a thousand times more apt to cite the elderly person's non-elderly life. So, it isn't as though the elderly are inadvertently (as do children) crafting humorous or poignant memories of the last years of their lives for the edification of those in observance.
I don't have any answers, Mike, but this is a huge issue, and it's not enough to say, "We have to change our attitude toward tending to the elderly." Hello...no one's ever figured out a way to enlighten everyone alive in one fell swoop and, anyway, one still has to chop the wood and haul the water. Even enlightened ones understand this.
Bottom line: I think we don't talk about the boredom of elder caregiving because it is so ubiquitous that we don't think about it until we're drowning in it. By that time, we're also drowning in other reactions and the first word to pop into our minds to describe our state is "burnout". Thank you for noticing.
Great, insightful, courageous, post, Mike.
Mike,
From what I can detect, you've moved from exploring your parent's dementia to accepting it wholely. With that acceptance comes the fact that it won't change and will likely get worse. You knew this before but it seems that now you're at a higher level of acceptance. I remember when I reached this point. Yes, there's boredom with the whole thing. I don't know how many times I can answer the same questions, yet I do. Much frustration turns into boredom and I know that it will only deteriorate with time.
Continue to fix what you can fix, get as much help as you can afford, and keep on ...
There's no recognition or appreciation for this "job" but we'll continue to do it for as long as we can.
Sue