Holidays in the time of Covid

 

So—this past year we had a lame Easter, Fourth of July, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s. Between lockdowns, restricted visitation, and difficulty getting traditional foods, those dates didn’t feel like a celebration. And maybe we won’t have a “normal” holiday until the end of 2021.

 But it’s not all bad news. Perhaps we ought to see this as a study in contrasts. For example, this new year may feel more joyous because of last year’s lacks. I certainly hope so!

There’s a certain amount of frenzy that accompanies holidays, especially Christmas. There are so many preparations—decorating, gift buying and wrapping, cooking and baking—plus more school and social events than usual. Not in 2020, however. I’m wondering if an ideal holiday might fall between this forced austerity and the excesses of the past.

Maybe we need to focus on more spiritual aspects. There are several important dates at the end of the year: Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Diwali, the Christian Christmas among them. Sometimes these observances get short-shrift, which is a shame. Quiet reflections can be calming, even profound. While we may not have had traditional songs and communal prayers in 2020, or had them in person, there’s still an opportunity to celebrate in a meaningful way with our own ceremonies.

 In times like this, we have to sort out what is and isn’t important. Maybe it’s not a bad thing to go without, if just to appreciate what we had.

Part Eleven (and the last): The Reluctant Caregiver's Guide to Broken Hip Recovery

Progress

Rather than inch by inch, progress seems to be moving millimeter by millimeter. So he’s standing a little faster than yesterday, or able to reach a little higher with his exercises. It hardly seems like a celebration, but do make note of it. Recovery is happening!

People ask how things are going, and you try not to bark back at them: Not fast enough! I’m tired, he’s not able to do much, and I want our life back! But you attempt a smile and say, “We’re making a little progress. Still have a ways to go.”

They say you look tired. Well, you are. Fair enough. And not likely to change in the near future.

And should you push him a little or let him go at his own pace? Beware: This is the stuff of nasty snits and fights.

Your husband may be the perfect person who good-naturedly tries hard and is never in a bad mood. If so, we all hate you.

For the rest of us, tread lightly. Let the therapist push and you just reinforce and cheer on. You do want a continuing relationship, right?

Right? Come on, now--

Then, on a day when you’re bleary-eyed and trying to make nice with the therapist, your husband performs his exercises with a grace and vigor you haven’t seen. You’re amazed and the therapist smiles and nods. Yes, it’s working. He’s finally getting better.

Normal returns, finally

It seems to take forever, but suddenly something happens that feels—normal! Like going to the grocery store by yourself and not worrying about him getting along while you’re there. Or going out to dinner, even though he’s still using the wheelchair. You enjoy your dinner and conversation and it feels—normal. How wonderful!

He learns how to get in and out of a car, is walking more smoothly, and seems more like his old self. He starts getting more interested in his usual activities and invites friends over. You’re actually making plans for fun things. You have time for long showers, to enjoy a TV movie, to cook a nice meal. Normal kind of creeps in slowly, but when it does, it’s so surprising and welcome.

Normal may be somewhat different than it was before the injury, but it seems so much better than what you’ve been living through. You can make appointments, meet your friends, and start to return to your life as well. Normal feels like a refreshing whiff of cool air. And best of all, It brings a sense of peace with it.

So go celebrate in whatever way that seems appropriate. Retire the wheelchair—recovery has happened! Take pride in the fact that you survived—and so did he!

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I hope you found these entries helpful! Feel free to email me on the contact page and let me know. An e-version of the eleven blogs will be available on Amazon later this month (August 2020), and a paper booklet some time after that.

Part 10: The Reluctant Caretaker's Guide to Broken Hip Recovery

Slow it down

Let’s say he’s in the living room on the recliner and nature calls. So you put on a gait belt, help him stand with the walker, transfer to the wheelchair, put up the footrests, wheel him to the bathroom or where the commode chair is, lock the wheelchair, take down the footrests, transfer to the toilet--

You get the idea. Fast just doesn’t happen. He may want things to happen quickly—be it being transferred somewhere, getting lunch or something fetched from across the room—but the word fast is now out of your vocabulary. Hey, they didn’t respond quickly in the hospital and rehab. In general, you don’t need to either.

You might be cooking or cleaning or simply putting your aching feet up. Some things can wait a few minutes. And even when there are more urgent needs, safety protocols are more important. Don’t skip moving him safely for anything! He’s anxious; you don’t need to be.

Time for you

Well-meaning friends will say, “Be sure to take time for yourself.”

Excuse me a moment —chortle, snort, ha ha, maniacal laughter—

Yeah, not happening. At least, not at first. Time for myself consisted of a quick shower, or working a crossword puzzle in the paper. Or maybe sleeping.

You’re on call 24/7, and initially that’s all you can do. Be kind to yourself. You don’t have to do more than you’re doing. It won’t be perfect, so don’t worry about that. You’ll run over his toes with the wheelchair or walker and you’ll manage to bump whatever hurt parts he has. It happens. Forgive yourself in advance. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s more than enough.

Most of your “me” time is spent in trying to coordinate equipment, doctor visits, bills, and groceries—and whatever else you have to do. Don’t try to be a super-caretaker and do it all. Just the basics, no more.

You’re wrong

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ve rammed the wheelchair into the woodwork. You burned dinner when the doctor’s office called. You put carrots in the stew again. And you’re not cheery enough.

You’re doing it all wrong. Except you aren’t. You’re just being told it’s all wrong. You’re actually doing what’s right, and being safe about it. You’re protecting yourself so he has a caretaker, for gosh sakes. But there are days---believe me, your patience will be tried! But do your best to ignore the complaints. He’s obviously not at his best, and probably trying to do the best he can, too. Don’t take on his moods. Go be unavailable for a spell. It will do you wonders.

Here’s another place a friend can help by lending a sympathetic ear. That can do wonders, too.