Memories came flooding back. Dark memories of hours upon hours spent at the hospital. Or at the cancer center for his radiation or chemo. Or accompanying him to get blood transfusions. And days and nights at hospice until the inevitable sad end.
The Trigger
My grandson broke his arm and I was at the emergency room with him and his mother. The poor kid. Luckily the break wasn’t too bad. He’ll be in a cast for a while but he’ll be okay. It was scary though.
Not surprisingly, there was a lot of waiting involved. And I started to remember the many hours of waiting and worrying many years ago, when my husband had to get all sorts of treatments for his cancer. My mind wandered back to that time, the time when his cancer took over and our world started falling apart. My husband, who always took care of everything and everybody, suddenly needed help more and more. And I was there for him, of course, and my life completely centered around him, his cancer, and his needs.
It’s Hard To Be a Caregiver
I don’t know if I can even call myself a caregiver for my late husband. I didn’t really do that much compared to what others do. He was quite independent until the end. But I did drive and accompany him to many appointments, treatments, hospital stays and so on. I was there for him whenever he needed me. I made sure to serve him foods he could tolerate after treatments, as much as it was possible anyway. He had such a hard time after every chemo. I was there to steady him or catch him when he got dizzy, bring him things, or do anything to make things easier on him. Ready to drive him to work or pick him up on days he didn’t feel well enough to drive. Everything centered around making sure I did all I could to help him as much as possible. If he had some kind of emergency (and there were many), I dropped everything and was there. Whenever he was at the hospital overnight, I stayed as long as I could or spent the night there myself, often in an uncomfortable chair. I always had a comb, bobby pins, hair ties and a bit of makeup in my purse just in case. He was so courageous and strong and went to work every day until the end, but you never knew when he’d suddenly feel bad and need medical help. And during his last days at hospice, I rarely ever left his side, afraid to not be there with him when the time came.
I know it’s nothing compared to what others go through. Others care for their loved one for years, every day and night. My caregiving was very limited, and yet, it took a toll on me.
The Memories Came Flooding Back
As I sat in the emergency room with my daughter and grandson, all these memories came back. Memories of countless hours at the hospital, or other medical facilities, waiting, worrying, praying—and my heart wept all over again.