What follows are selected diary entries from a priest in the Church of England while he was caring for his elderly mother. With honesty and tenderness he explores the burden of being a carer, moments of frustration and love, and the great toll of being a full time carer. The writer also includes some tips for supporting carers and a beautiful prayer. [Ed]
Day 2 – 4.00am
From my mum’s bedroom window I can see dawn breaking and the birds’ songs of hope . This is the third time tonight mum has rung the bell, calling me to help her to the commode. I’m really not sure about this. I’m feeling really uncomfortable about putting my own mum on the toilet and I suspect she is too. But there is no other way, so I try and make it as dignified and as every-day as possible.
This poor frail old lady now in her ninth decade. She is so tired yet at one time she was so strong turning the mangle on a Monday morning, hanging out the washing and swilling out the side passage with the dolly tub water. She sits there now on the commode head in hands in pain – skin and bone.
9.00am
The morning carer is supposed to be here by now. Actually we don’t know when she will come – there is a two hour window when they could possibly come which is no use at all really because mum wants to get up now not at 11am. I decide to bring up breakfast and sit her on the bedside chair. That works, but the carer is still not here so it is back onto the bed. We are both getting a bit fed up with this.
I take up the prayer book given to my mum at her confirmation. Very very small print, pages wafer thin like mum’s skin. I begin, “O Lord, shew thy mercy upon us”. There is an immediate, soft but firm reply from a mouth with no teeth, “And grant us thy salvation”. She doesn’t need the prayer book because these words have accompanied her since childhood. She forgets my name and sometime who I am but not the two morning collects and the Lord’s Prayer.
1.00pm
I’m pleased we got through the morning, medication given, carer eventually came and I’ve thought of something for lunch. I now realise I have not showered this morning and not even brushed my teeth. This morning was so filled with my mum’s immediate needs I didn’t get a chance to wash myself. Just threw on the shirt from yesterday. To be honest I can’t be bothered.
7.00pm
Waiting for the carer again – mum is getting anxious. She doesn’t want to be the position of me having to help her into her night wear – nor do I.
The evening carer comes with a cheery, “Hello” – I reflect – why do ‘professional carers’ have to be so bloody cheery all the time? Why do they have to be so loud? She shouts at my mum trying to crack jokes. OK, my mum wears hearing aids but you don’t need to shout at her. We don’t need jokes, we don’t need to be bloody cheered along – we just need someone who is quiet and gently efficient. It just seem the whole house is filled with noise and I know this upsets mum as much as it upsets me. So we settle down to The Repair Shop on TV – again – my heart sinks.
Day 4 – 2pm
Up again, this is the third time tonight. Gently, gently onto the commode. I know I am moaning about being tired, but actually there are some beautiful moments with my dear mum this week. Like the time she held my hand and smiled – just being at peace. It was a kind of reassurance that I was doing OK and that she was OK with me being around.
But I can tell mum is not settled tonight. She complains of pain and seems full of anxiety. I have no idea what I do but wonder if its OK to give her another Codine – no one to ask. So I do – and she is back into bed. I pick up again the confirmation prayer book and it must be, of course, the evening prayer third collect. Again old lips form the ancient words, “and by thy great mercies defend us from all perils and dangers of this night”. I throw in Psalm 121 and 23 – she is word perfect with both and it is as if a peaceful eternity fills the room.
1pm
Mum is up dressed and medicated. The washing is in the machine, the seemingly endless washing-up is done, the commode and toilet cleaned so everything is done until lunch time.
I’m SO tired. I’ve been up every night three or four times. I could just lay on the floor and sleep. But then decide its not a sleep I want, I want to have a good cry. Lets not misunderstand this – it doesn’t mean I’m not coping, it doesn’t mean I’m cracking up – I don’t need support or help or a bloody listening ear I just want to have a cry. But I can’t, mum needs to go to the toilet again.
6.00pm
Pleased with myself that the dinner I made for mum was well received and she could chew it and it was tasty. I had cheese sandwich again. I’ve noticed how I have been keeping going through the day on biscuits and cake – not good.
10pm
I’m deciding if it is worth going to sleep or whether actually it’s just better to listen out for her call. I think about the many carers who look after someone every day, not just for a week like me, but who have been a carer for years. I wonder what depth of tiredness they must feel and I wonder whether they actually stop feeling the tiredness or what damage it must do to their minds and bodies.
As a poor excuse for prayer I imagine the ‘Holy Angels’ from Compline guarding all the carers homes and bedrooms, particularly those who “watch and wait tonight”.
Day 7 – Last Day
6pm
Mum is downstairs welcoming my sister who is taking over from me. I’ve packed my bags into the car and just doing a final sweep. I slip into her bedroom. Everything is tidy and it is so peaceful. I have had some wonderful moments in this room with my mum this week. I have overcome some pretty big fears in myself and we have both survived. Although I can’t wait to get home, I will miss this bedroom and looking after my mum.
I hug lightly her bony body and begin the drive home. I have been really quite scared this week. Very unsure, so so tired – but actually, it has been beautiful and when she has finally gone I will have the memory of this special week.
After just one week of looking after my mum I decide to write a list of dos and don’t for those who support those who look after others.
- Don’t bring cake and biscuits for the carer – bring some really nice shower jell or cologne.
2. Don’t ask the carer questions like, “Why won’t the doctor come out to see her?” or “Have you managed to collect the prescription?” Ask: “How was your night?” “How are you?”
3. Don’t say you will sit in while the carer pops down the shops. Say you will sit in while the carer goes to see a film, has a hot bath, goes down the pub or just go to bed for a few hours.
4. Don’t sit there and talk to the carer about your own aches and pains or the GP surgery or anyone’s aches and pains. Give the carer some really juicy gossip, talk about the football match, the news, if fact anything ordinary and not about hospitals, GPs, medication, passing urine or poo.
5. Ask if you can give the carer a hug, and if you can – rub their back.
A Carer’s Prayer
Compassionate God
You are the supporter of the tired
the stillness in my busyness
strength in our frailty.
As this day begins
settle my worry and concern,
centre me deep in your love
so that,
in the tender touches of today,
in the moments of intimacy and laughter,
in the private tears and exasperation,
we both will know again your sustaining grace.
When I loose my patience today, Loving One,
when I am too rushed and forget to listen
if something scary or unplanned happens
steady me O God and whisper again to me your healing breath.
Amen.