My day is not unlike that of Fred, the dutiful baker who goes
off to work in the pre-dawn hours to shove dough in and out of the ovens (long before
most people are awake and craving their daily doze of sugary pasty) only to come
home in the dark of night and do it all over again the next day, and again, and
again….well, you get the picture (rather, you’ve just seen the classic television
commercial thanks to youtube).
But, instead of donuts my days and nights begin and end in
the darkness working for Miss Cathy.
I rise around five a.m. to start my day (for her) by turning
off the alarm system located on the kitchen wall and then pulling out whatever
breakfast meats or leftover’s she’s going to eat; then into the living room where
I turn on the TV, open the blinds and double check that her morning meds are in
their container.
This wasn’t always my routine, and Lord knows I haven’t
gotten up this early since I was in high school, living at home and part of my
chores was to get up (long before I needed to for school) and go out to start
my mother’s car to ‘warm’ it up, turn o the heater or a/c for her drive into
work….. And irony of ironies, here I am almost forty years later getting up
early on mom’s behalf as well….I guess there is a sort of symmetry to that, but
I digress.
I’ve learned to do this after many morning where I was
startled awake (more than once) by the sound of either the alarm going off
(when she’s opened the front door and forgotten the alarm was still on) or it’s
the electronic ‘beep-beep’ sound her frantically pushing buttons as she tries
to remember and enter the code to disable said alarm system.
Other times I’ve been rudely awakened by the harsh, static
noises emanating fro the television when she hits the wrong buttons that have
me up with the bakers to get things ready for whenever she starts her day.
I make sure everything is ready just in case she stirs
before me, then it’s back to bed for a couple hours before I get up to start ‘my’
day around eight thirty (I have the luxury of being an artist and have spent
the majority of my career working for myself so I don’t have to report to an
office).
I’ve don’t mind really, it’s quiet and peaceful, much like
when she takes a nap in the afternoon or goes to sleep at night.
That’s when I find I can get things done around the house
like cooking, laundry, cleaning, making phone calls to set up appointments or paperwork
(I call those “administrative days”) without her being underfoot, needing me to
any number of little things that add to distracting me form whatever I’m trying
to do for me (or for her on her behalf).
At night, after I’ve given her evening meds and a few hours
later turned out her light, I cook for the next day, straighten up the living
room, clean the kitchen and then I get to have ‘my’ evening; to go for a swim
lesson, read, write, watch TV or a film and occasionally to go out for a bit to
remember what it feels like to have a life independent of being a caregiver.
Then, all too suddenly it’s time to turn on the alarm and it’s
light out for me around midnight or so and before you know it, it’s time to get
up to ‘make the donuts’.
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