A Science and an Art

Last week I realized that one of my newer caregivers was trying to figure out the perfect "Connie care" system, so that she knew how to do every task in precise detail, which could be written out in a plan and used in training other caregivers. I could tell that she was getting a little flustered when I wanted to do things slightly different than the week before. While I really appreciate her desire to be precise, I had a little trouble helping her understand that sometimes I switch things up a little... not in a major way, but enough to require some flexibility or wiggle room. 

For example, if I'm feeling a little stronger or a little floppier at certain times, I will need a little more or less support for balance and movement. Or if I'm feeling sassier or more obliging, I might need more or less personal space. And sometimes to break the monotony and spice things up, I like to put on deodorant after my shirt, or brush my hair before my teeth. "It isn't an exact science and I'm not a robot," I said. "I mean, do you always do everything the same way in your personal routines?" 

I was sharing this with another caregiver friend a few days later, as a way to process it and check to see if my minorly spontaneous tendencies are unreasonable. This friend, who professionally works with students with special needs, could see how it would be challenging if someone is trying to learn my routines and rhythms. "It is sort of a science, in a way," she admitted, "but it is also an art." 

She helped me see that clinically speaking, it is useful for my caregivers to know my limits and have a list of tasks that they know they need to do for me, so as not to be negligent or counter assistive, like how to put my sling around me or plug in my wheelchair. And it is kind and thoughtful for them to be able to learn the details of things that are preferable or helpful, like using a plastic fork or only a small amount of toothpaste. In those ways, caregiving can be calculable, measurable, predictable. 

"But you're right, you're not a robot," she added. "There is the human factor that needs to be considered, too." The "art" of caregiving is the feeling, abstract side - observing my moods, being in tune with my personality, and leaving space for nuances to act out at random. This is an important part of the process, whether you are a family member, friend, or hired helper. Remind yourself often that whoever you are taking care of is a person and that makes them complicated and usually unpredictable! Stay open to mixing up the program once in a while, and don't be afraid to keep asking questions.  I like to be a part of the conversation and the process of my own care. The best way to reach "Master Caregiver" status, at least with me, is to be attentive, check in often, listen and observe, and then respond. 

And I think those are just good traits to practice to be a good friend in general, don't you?