Caregiver Guilt

Here is a great dementia resource for caregivers and healthcare professinals,

Here is information on being the best caregiver you can be

Here are more interesting dementia articles and activities,

Sharon Brothers MSW

Are you looking for caregiver training?

Check out the Personal Care Aide Certification - a comprehensive training program for family, in-home and assisted living caregivers.

Paula Spencer, senior editor at Caring.com wrote a great article on caregiver guilt titled "Aging and Caring: The secret guilt of caregivers" which I highly recommend both to caregivers and to professionals trying to better understand the challenges of family caregivers.

Paula points out that caregiver guilt closely mirrors what she calls "mom guilt."

She's so right, in my experience. Talking with families about leaving mom or dad off at their new retirement community or assisted living home, many report feeling like "leaving my kid at kindergarten or preschool the first day of school." It's a feeling of anxious uncertainty, wondering if you've made the right decision; if he/she will be OK; if the people in charge will do the right thing.

I believe strongly that becoming a family caregiver doesn't mean we're now parenting our parents; rather, we're experiencing yet another role shift in our relationship as we have at various times throughout life. Still, the feelings of parenting seems pretty close to some of the guilt-feelings of caregiving. When your child (mom) is ill, should you just watch and see, or rush to the doctor? It always seems that whichever choice you make will inevitably be the wrong one...and more guilt rushes in.

Paula shares some great "rules of thumb" about handing guilt:


You can't ignore this pesky emotion, can't will it away. Guilt simply is. So straight off, don't think there's anything bad or wrong about your feeling it.


There's good guilt and bad guilt. Good guilt is the kind that causes us to examine our behavior and make a change, if necessary. If you feel guilty because, say, you were impatient with a parent with dementia, it's like a little poke reminding you to try a little harder next time because hey, patience really is a virtue. Unfortunately what eats most of us alive is bad guilt. Bad guilt has no constructive underbelly. Bad guilt makes you feel guilty about a situation that you can't help (your parent has to move into rehab, for example) or that is actually a positive for you (you're hiring home care because you can't do it all yourself)


Beware the oughts-shoulda-couldas. For caregivers, this refrain can sound like: "I ought to be able to handle this; I'm her daughter." Or, "I shouldn't feel so happy about going someplace without Dad." Or, "I could have handled that better." Things (and feelings) are what they are; stewing or denying wastes precious energy.


Guilt creeps in when we discount ourselves. Ironically, selfless people tend to feel proportionately more guilt. Because they work so hard aspiring to an ideal way of doing things for others, they tend to ignore the inconvenient reality that they have to look after themselves all the more. They may even forget that they, too, deserve extras and shortcuts. Or, when they finally get around to (by choice or force) having a Calgon bath or lunching out with friends, it feels as alien as it does great. That's a sign you probably need to follow your self care with more self care.


Guilt loves high standards. News flash: Nobody's perfect. No caregiver anticipates every fall or bedsore. Tempers boil. Germs sneak in. Bills slip through unpaid. Life happens, in other words, no matter how much you love the person or how much you feel you "owe" him or her. Aim to be a "B" caregiver instead of an A+ caregiver, and everybody's going to be happier.


No mom is an island. No caregiver, either. I think it's no coincidence that most of the "happy guilt" that creeps into a caregiver's mind follows having the load lightened by getting help. It's such a persistent canard that it's somehow a sign of weakness to ask for or find assistance, and from as many sources of help as you can locate or who will offer it.

When my kids were little I learned that, as a working mom with three little girls, guilt would be a part of my life. Somehow, just accepting that seems to make it a little less powerful, and maybe lets us get on with life and do what we need to do, in our very own personal style.

Challenges with care eased by music

Sharon K. Brothers, MSW

There's a beautiful story in a recent New York Times article that illustrates just how important music is to the person with memory loss.

Tom was a wanderer. When his wife, Elsie, came to visit him at a care unit for patients with dementia, he would give her a perfunctory kiss, then wander off through the rooms and stare out the window. Elsie tried to walk with him and hold hands, but he would shake her off, leaving her heartsick.

A music therapist at the facility, Alicia Clair, was searching for ways to help couples like Elsie and Tom connect. Ms. Clair asked Elsie if she'd like to try dancing with Tom, then put on some music from the '40s - Frank Sinatra singing "Time after Time." Ms. Clair said recently, "I knew Tom was a World War II vet, and vets did a lot of ballroom dancing."

As Sinatra began singing, Elsie opened her arms, beckoning. Tom stared a moment, then walked over and began leading her in the foxtrot. "They danced for thirty minutes!" Ms. Clair said. When they were finished, Elsie broke down and sobbed. "I haven't been held by my husband in three years," she told Ms. Clair. "Thank you for bringing him back."

It's a lovely story, and it illustrates the power of music in the lives of the person with memory loss.

I remember the first time I heard one of our caregivers explain how she got a client to bathe. This client resisted everyone's effort to help him bathe, and could quickly become angry and aggressive if pushed. We'd all tried every approach we knew, and then Wanda stepped up.

An hour later, the client was bathed, relaxed and smiling. We had to know: how did she do it?

Here's what she said: "I just started singing with him. We sang, and walked, arm in arm to the sink. The room was already nice and warm, and the towels, soap and washcloth were already there (I did plan ahead at least that far). We stood in front of the sink and I turned on the water and just started splashing my hands in the water, all the time singing together and smiling.

"Pretty soon, his hands are in the water, too, and we're soaping them up, laughing - and singing. Next, we washed his arms, slipped off his shirt and washed his torso.

"We got through an entire sink-and-washcloth bath just by singing and playing in the water together."

It was a beautiful, relaxing and enjoyable event for the caregiver and the client, rather than a frightening time for both.

Music has some wonderful qualities. According to the article, people respond to music even when all other forms of communication no longer work. "Music, unlike language, isnot seated in a specific area of the brain but processed across many parts. 'You can't rub out music unless the brain is completely gone.'"

If you can't carry a tune, there's good news for you, too. People with memory loss don't seem to be picky: just start the music and let the caregiving - and relationship nurturing - begin.

DID YOU KNOW...

Many long term care insurances will cover the cost of caregiver training. Many will also help pay for in-home caregiving provided by Certified Caregivers. Our Caregiver Certification Course is approved by most insurance companies -
Check it out, Just click here

For a great resource for those with dementia, caregivers and healthcare professinals, click here

For more interesting dementia articles and activities, click here

Caregiving at one Degree of Separation

Sharon K. Brothers, MSW

My neighborhood has a women's book club that includes about a dozen of us who live within 2 blocks of each other. Some of us have lived on the same street for more than 20 years. We've watched our children grow up together. We've celebrated birthdays, graduations, weddings and births of precious, new grandchildren together. When one neighbor's home burned to the ground in the wee hours of the morning, the rest of us were there, almost before the fire trucks arrived.

We come together once a month to talk about our kids, our neighbors and - almost always - our book. We have laughed, cried and argued with each other.

Last night, someone asked, "How many of us are dealing with an aging parent?" All but two raised their hands. One neighbor has spent the last month with her mother who lives over 1,000 miles away, finally convincing her to move into a care facility for people with memory loss. Next month, she'll return to actually make the move with her mom.

Several of us have lost parents over the past few years. We've spent hours at their bedsides, in hospitals, nursing homes and assisted living communities. We've shared our anger at "the system" and our frustrations at being classically squeezed between the needs of our children and our parents.

While we don't see each other much outside of our monthly book club meeting, we do know this: when it comes to being a caregiver to an aged loved one, we're all doing it. We do it alone, often, but we know we're together in facing the challenges of family caregivers everywhere.

Last night when we took a count, it was clear that it's something we are all doing today. And those that aren't personally caring for an elderly parent know someone - first hand - that is providing this care. It's a small comfort, but perhaps, ultimately, a large movement toward increased resources, improved quality of care and better options for our aged loved ones.

After all, we're all at the frontline of this effort today.

DID YOU KNOW111
Many long term care insurances will cover the cost of caregiver training.
For information on being the best caregiver you can be(caregiver training), click here

For a great resource for those with dementia, caregivers and healthcare professinals, click here

For more interesting dementia articles and activities, click here