I probably seem crazy picky & overly demanding. It probably seems like I have control issues & OCD.
It probably doesn’t make any sense to you why I yelled at you because you put my cup of water on the left side of my tray and not the right.
You probably don’t understand why I’m mad at you because my pants leg isn’t cooperating while you’re trying to get me dressed.
But what you don’t understand is, is that I don’t have enough strength in my right hand to pick up that glass of water. That’s why I keep the remote on that side and my water on the other.
Or that positing myself so that you can get the pants on me is uncomfortable & pushes bone into bone, which is extremely painful.
Caregivers don’t get enough credit.
I know it’s annoying to position me. I know it’s annoying to get the 192472972 million pillows in place, getting my blanket just right, making sure everything is in its proper place & that I can reach everything I could possibly need (phone, iPad, TV remote, lighting remote, water, etc).
I know it annoys you that I called you as soon as you left the room…. For the third time, because I forgot I needed a napkin. I get it.
Caregivers don’t get enough credit.
Your frustrated because “I’m not communicating my needs well”. I’m frustrated because it’s the same routine every day… literally every day, for the last 10+ years.
I’m not asking because I don’t want to do it- I’m asking because I can’t do it without you. I hate feeling like a burden. I wish I could help more, but the reality is- I can’t.
Dealing with me is a pain in the ass (I get it, half the time I don’t even want to deal with myself). But here we are…dealing with me & all of my BS.
Caregivers don’t get enough credit.
I know most of the time you’re probably thinking this girl is batsh*+ crazy. I know you get frustrated with me on the daily (more like hourly…okay, minute-ly) basis. I know some communication gets lost in the frustration. I know I think you can read my mind. I know you think my OCD is overboard. I know you think I’ve lost my goddamn mind. I know think I’m just being meticulous, but the little things, to you, are very big things in my world.
Caregivers don’t get enough credit.
I’m doing the best I can to make our lives easier… with a little bit of my Type A personality sprinkled in. I’m just trying to function in this world that clearly wasn’t made for me.
So next time I ask you to get my thing-a-ma-jig, while simultaneously being frustrated that my pedals aren’t down, know that- from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry that I am the way I am. I mean well, but that too is lost in the frustration of being cared for / giving care.
Thank you for learning my idiosyncrasies (even when you forget). And for putting up with them.
Thank you for helping me, even when it’s the last thing you want to do.
Thank you for giving me the care I so desperately need.
Carli Lyn 