I’m a strong woman; born that way, raised that way, live that way. So when my husband, Harvey, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease when he was fifty years old, I knew I would have to be even stronger. We shared a medical practice and family responsibilities, and when he retired, I instantly became a solo practitioner. And caregiver to my husband. And primary parent to two teenage daughters. And CEO and CFO of our household.
I knew I could do it; I just didn’t want to do it all! Harvey and I had the division of labor thing down cold. Now it was going to be all on me. And I couldn’t complain about my extra load. Harvey had it much worse than I did.
As we began this journey, I maintained my relationships with family and friends and neighbors. Harvey didn’t want people to know his diagnosis, but I knew it was important that key people knew so that they could watch out for him. So I quietly told certain folks and they became my eyes and ears when I wasn’t close by.
Over time, because I had maintained these relationships, I felt comfortable describing what was going on at home, sometimes complaining, often expressing concerns. Then friends would just begin to offer to help. And here’s the amazing part: I learned to accept their offers of help! I didn’t have to be strong alone.
As I got more and more comfortable with accepting offers of help, I also became more comfortable asking directly for help. In the end, when I look back at all the people–friends, family, and professionals–I am astounded at the size of our caregiving team.
And I am deeply grateful to have each and every member.
There are so many barriers to asking for help. I was strong and knew I could do it alone, but how much better for all of us that I didn’t do it all by myself! Helping a family facing the ravages of Alzheimer’s is rewarding in itself. Really connecting with a person who has Alzheimer’s is a whole other level of rewarding. And knowing there was a whole village of people who supported our family through this? Wow!
Spouses, especially older couples, sometimes feel they are the only ones who could possibly care for their loved one correctly. Or they feel that their loved one needing care wouldn’t want anyone else but them to be the caregiver. Or asking for help would be a sign of weakness. Or they couldn’t possibly put anyone out by asking for their help. The list of excuses is as long as there are people not willing to ask for help.
What’s your excuse?
In my next several posts, I will describe some of the concrete ways our friends, family members, and professionals became the village that surrounded Harvey and me with love and support.