Somewhere in Tennessee I watched a man meticulously clean the teeth of his comatose wife. The staff told me he did that for hours each day and had almost worn her teeth away with the cleaning. They thought it was a senseless act of a demented old man. I thought it was a beautiful scene of a man who had cared for his wife so long he had no idea how to stop. The only thing they would let him do was clean her teeth. They were far too busy to allow him to feed her or help bathe her, so he did the only thing he could do.
When a mate lives beyond our ability to care for them and we must face a long term care decision, it is a different and much extremely tougher ordeal. It may be even harder than when a child faces the same decision with a parent.
It is harder for us to see the need. We become less and less capable of caring for ourselves so gradually that the mate's need for care develops without much notice. An outsider or the rest of the family can see the need for care like a neon sign flashing red warnings every time they enter the house, but to the couple involved, it is just a normal day. The overwhelming load of care evolves without the caregiver really noticing. When the family panics and begins to demand a change, the care giving mate has a very difficult time grasping how serious the situation really is. Our loved ones do outlive our ability to care, but it rarely seems like we are actually there yet.
It is harder for us to turn loose. We have lived and loved for forty, fifty, sixty, and sometimes even more years. In my case and many more like me, my wife is more than a person that I love. She is the rest of me. Take her away, and a large portion of who I am is gone. Take away the care I give to her, and you take away a lot of what I live for and what gives meaning and purpose to my life. It is not just me getting tired enough and smart enough to see the need for care I cannot give, it is me cutting off half of who I am and letting someone else take my place. I used to wonder and even look with disgust on care givers hanging on so long they die before the loved one they are caring for does. Now I am seventy-six and can see that either my wife or I will most likely face this very issue, somehow I don't find it disgusting any more. I hope we don't do that. I hope we can make the proper decision at the proper time, but I can certainly see why folks our age hang on.
This means, we need patience and understanding as we face these issues. Arguments and logic do not help us get past the emotional bonds that force us to hang on as long as possible and sometimes far too long. We need someone who will simply try to understand, listen, and walk with us as we slowly reach the right decisions and loosen our grip on our lifetime role of being the caregiver.