Mom & Me Four Archive

    The instigating e was from MFLNF. He noticed the post in which I lamented my severe case of Caregiver Burnout and responded by offering to send me an unused portion of an antidepressant prescription. My response:

    Wow, I'm touched by your generosity, MFLNF, and, believe me, I'm not refusing your offer because it's Rxed pills. I've taken other people's pills before, I've even used other people's pills on my mother. I guess I could be said to have a little bit of the generation in me, about whom NYT wrote a month or so ago, who regularly takes unprescribed prescription medication and trades it with others. The problem is the type of medication, antidepressants. Not that I consider that I'd be taking unusual risks using them without a doctor's oversight, although, you know, that's possible.
    The thing is, MFLNF, if this Caregiver Burnout is a type of depression, and it probably is, I know what's causing it: Lack of adequate, trustworthy and available people who are either volunteering to take care of my mother or to whom I'd willingly hand over my mother so I can experience what is currently and popularly known as "respite". I concede that this Burnout is probably causing a neurological chemical imbalance which affects my behavior. I concede that maybe this imbalance could be corrected, partially or wholly, with antidepressants. Then, you know, I'd be "The Carefree Caregiver" again and, well, nothing would be done to correct the ridiculous lack and outrageously bad quality of respite resources upon which caregivers to the Ancient have to rely at this time. I mean, you know, it's all too pat: Give the stressed out, badly spotted caregiver some antidepressants and poof! Problem solved and no one else has to be disturbed or change their MO.
    See, I know I'm not the only one who labors under these conditions. I know I'm not the only one who, finally, after attempting to use resources, has found that they are less adequate than I am at my worst. I know I'm not the only one whose extended family is distant, at best. I'm not the only one who experiences anger, exhaustion and despair, nor am I the only one who becomes so tired that I occasionally stop protecting my mother and my relatives from my reactions.
    I also know that if situations can create neurological chemical imbalances, situations can also bring neurological chemicals back into balance. I know what'll heal my Caregiver Burnout: Reliable, adequate, worry free periodic substitutes for what I do for my mother. I also know that if I "give up" and take respite anyway, following the questionable advice that "I'll be a better caregiver" if I do this, by leaving my mother under less than adequate, worrisome care I risk having to clean up a mess when I return, sometimes a medical mess, and wishing I'd never left. It's happened to me before, five times. It even happened when I was scrutinizing her care as much as I was able when she was in the skilled nursing facility for two weeks' therapy when I was not considering her stay a respite for me. The alternate care situation in this country is so bad that it is not a worry free option for caregivers. And families? Who exactly is at fault for the fact that I can't rely on my family to pinch hit for me? Me?!? Am I supposed to be my family's motivation as well as my own and my mother's?!? Bullshit!
    MFLNF, I'm on a journey, here. I started it on behalf of my mother. I realized, belatedly, that I'm also journeying on my own behalf. Lately I've begun to understand, by virtue of my Mom & Me Journals, that I'm also doing this on behalf of all caregivers to Ancient Ones. Whatever I'm experiencing millions, maybe even billions of caregivers, past and present, have experienced and are experiencing the same struggles. At least for the time being, future caregivers have these struggles to which to look forward. I need to know where this leads. I need to go all the way, regardless of what that means. I'm perfect for this. I'm incredibly strong. I have a self-concept that will not allow me to faultily blame myself for outside circumstances. I have the internal strength to bring others to task when necessary, without apology. I can stand up to medical professionals using every "But, She'll Die" trick in the book and say, "No!" Time, after time, after time I hit the skids and finish the skid on my feet. And, I refuse to excuse society for the circumstances it creates that make my job much, much harder than it could be.
    Wouldn't it be interesting to know, publicly, how much it takes to kill a caregiver ("kill" meaning when a caregiver decides she can't do it anymore)? Maybe some of us can't be killed and, admittedly, it would be nice to think that I'm one of the hardier but, indubitably, many of us have been and are being killed. Time to know why. Maybe if we have a way to learn why we'll begin to wonder how, other than a pill or feel good psycho babble or scolding the caregiver, to fix the problem. That's not the journey I imagined, MFLNF, when I started, but this is where the path has led. Pills didn't get me into this. Pills shouldn't be used to get me out.
    Anyway, whoa, sorry to be so wordy. I'm moved by your offer and that you've even made yourself aware of what I'm going through. I honestly thought you regularly deleted all the posts that are automatically sent your way. I'm not just pleased but heartened that you don't. Although you didn't invite this barrage, your expressed sympathy allowed me to feel comfortable unloading on you, so, anyway, thank you in advance, truly, for listening.
    Please know, you're not one of those in the crossfire of my disappointment at being left out on a limb in this Caregiver Conundrum. But, again, thanks for listening.

    MFLNF responded that I struck him as akin to the guy who ate McDonald's for a month to see what effect it would have on him. My response:

    Supersize Me! Yeah, I remember that movie! Interesting documentary. Whenever it plays on the cable channel that produced it I usually manage to catch some part of it. I especially like the artwork that intersperses the content on the experiment; very provocative! I even rented it a while back so I could watch the special features, which were equally horrifying. By the time the movie was packaged for viewing the guy's body chemistry and composition still wasn't back to where it was when he started. I thought it equally interesting that the film featured another guy who has eaten very little else but McDonalds Big Macs for years and whose body seems to be okay with that.
    I guess I am like him. Except that he had alternatives that were not only acceptable but highly so and readily available. The guy even lived with a vegan chef! I wish I could say I was refusing acceptable, available alternatives for the sake of experiment. Instead, I'm selecting one of many evils, the default evil, as it were, and, as it turns out, no one else is particularly concerned about my choice, whereas everyone the Supersize Me guy knew, including medical professionals, was very concerned about his choice. Many people, including some I know, probably figure, "Yeah, well, that's what happens to all caregivers, always has, always will. That's life. Deal with it." Some people, I'm sure, probably even think what I'm doing is "good" for me, after all "[I] had to do it," and figure I'm getting my just desserts for having avoided any type of caregiving for so long.