My father has a habit of repeating off the wall phrases when he can’t hear what was said.

Instead of saying, “Pardon me?”, he’ll comment with the inflection of a seasoned old preacher up talker, “Did you say the bass has rabies?” 

For years this drove me UP A WALL. Finally, I got smart ass-y and said, ‘Yes, Dad. That’s exactly what I said.”

He wry smiled me…(that’s a verb I made up for when he lifts the left side of his mouth into a grin and squints his eyes)… and then you know what he did?

He passed the gravy.

My mother always said he was the king of selective hearing. Me thinks she was right.

Holidays with oldsters can be crazy making, freakin’ funny, or wonderful.

#1 – Your Choice.

You decide if the 432nd telling of Gus the three legged depressed turtle he saved in Vietnam is going to send you over the edge or make you laugh. If you don’t want to hear the story, leave. Next room. Yep. You have the power.  

This moving to the next room for a break business also works if your oldster is on your last nerve.  Rest a little, take some space, re-group, and back in… GO! You can do it!

#2 – You can’t control the circumstance. You can control your reactions. 

The TV is really loud  - again. At Noble’s retirement home, the collective volume on the television sets is s-t-a-g-g-e-r-i-n-g. The oldsters don’t wear their hearing aides or the hearing aides don’t work, and consequently, the rest of us I need ear plugs. So, when the going gets tough, I really do wear ear plugs. $6 for 20. I highly recommend them.

#3 – Ask for help

Not everyone in your family has the caregiving gene. I know, sometimes you wish the folks in your life could see the forest for the trees but alas, they cannot. They are not wired like you are.

That’s not a bad thing, it’s just a thing. You can gripe and moan or you can deal with it. 

If you need help, ask. You can play the martyr but that’s not really serving anyone but you and my goodness it’s exhausting.

Save all that energy for the 93 times you’ll need to get up from wherever you are to fetch things your oldster needs during the visit. 

#4 – You don’t have to be right even though you KNOW you are.

Really. You know Mother didn’t put the little marsh mellows in the green salad. You know. You were there. And yet, Dad swears it’s true.

But I’m right, you say. So what. SO WHAT. Step away from the marsh mellows and save the peace. You can be right in the quiet of your heart and let your oldster have a moment glory. Yes. Really. 

#5 – Breath and get in the now.

If you are stressed and caring for an oldster, I will bet you the dollar in my pocket your mind is a-whiring —

Got to remember to get the Depends. 

Can’t forget the straps to his leg bag.

Can’t forget to sign out his meds.

Do the O2 tanks have enough in them for the car ride?

Got to find his two pocket shirt because he will simply NOT be happy without it.

How in the hell am I going to park the car and get him into the airport with his walker and luggage that he cannot have out of his sight?

Sound familiar?

Take a breath. Get in the now. This moment. Right now.

Find that pure place in you, that can connect with that pure place in your oldster. I know—they can’t remember like they used to remember. You have to help them walk, get off the commode, change their socks, change their poopy pants.

It’s tough. I know but let all of that go for just this moment and be here. Now. All the effort is about connecting…so connect. In the airport. While you’re packing. While you’re putting on his socks. Connect. 

#6 – Grieve what you need to grieve and do the best you can. That’s all you can do.

This whole caring for the people you love when they can’t be who they were… this takes time to get used to, no?

And a lot of it, well, there just isn’t any getting used to anything. It’s a new normal and frankly, some of it sucks. 

You’re not alone, though. Please remember that. There are a lot of us plugging along, doing the best we can. 

#7 – Let it Be Ok for Them To Need You 

If they’re able to say thank you, take it. Accept it. Say you’re welcome. If they can’t say it, imagine a time when they could or did. Just imagine.

And if you can’t imagine and they can’t say it, let me.

Thank you.

Thank you for stepping in and taking care of him/her/them. 

Thank you for recognizing this is a season of your life, of his life or her life, and the season will pass soon enough. 

Thank you for doing what you can while your oldster is here.

Thank you for using your words and actions and gentle touches to spread more love in the world – even if the person you’re caring for doesn’t have a clue who in the world you are…

Thank you for showing up, whatever that looks like for you.

Thank you.

Happy Thanksgiving to oldsters, youngsters, and everyone in the middle…

Now. Will someone please pass the rabies?