Apple of My Eye: November is National Caregivers Month

This past summer every other gal I know was glowing and pregnant, eyes focused to the future with tiny, new lives. Meanwhile, I felt as if I had taken a few steps backwards.

I got divorced and was starting over, beginning with needing a place to live. I had nothing to my name, except maybe my overpriced B.A. degree and the certified nursing assistant (CNA) license I got several years ago at the start of the recession when I needed a job.

When I spotted a Craigslist ad for a live-in caregiver to a 91-year-old British lady who resides close to my day job, I jumped on the opportunity.

I liked Apple immediately. We were introduced over tea by her daughter Colette. Both Apple and I were being uncharacteristically reserved, so Colette steered the conversation. She apologized when it fell onto British TV shows for several minutes, fearing I'd been left out.

But I wasn’t. To show my interest I mentioned that I was a huge Hugh Grant fan. 

The 91-year-old smiled broadly and replied, "Who isn't?!"

This would not be the last time we shared a grin over our mutual appreciation of British reprobate hotties. (We watch House together weekly.) 



The irony that is Tampa Do-Gooder, if you hadn’t already noticed, is that I'm no different than any other well-meaning person who occasionally does the right thing. I have heart and good intentions, but following through with challenging tasks, especially long-term ones, is pretty darn tough.

The fact of the matter remains that I came to work as a CNA & caregiver out of humbling desperation. I would not do this for anyone in my own family. It’s physically & emotionally draining, long hours, and I think about quitting every day. 

Part of the challenge is that as I take care of someone else's needs, I feel like I’m missing out on rebuilding my own life. I’ve always been impatient though. Hanging out with a healthy 91-year-old every day, however, is a constant reminder that I’ve got time (and if I don’t, what could I do about it anyway?). It’s a good lesson in balance for this impatient fool who rushes into and through everything. I might get a lot done, but I often don’t know how to enjoy the moment I’m in.

I loved Apple a day into our weekend trial run. Sharp as a tack, witty and blunt, she reads the paper daily and vehemently defends the young president of her adopted country. She occasionally puts up with my C-SPAN habit and I cook something or study when she puts on Chris Wallace.

Having lost both of my grandmothers during college, Apple is my bonus granny. And I am especially grateful that my presence is among the reasons she doesn’t have to think about trading her house in for facility living. For now, we're both safe and flourishing at home.

30 Days of Thanks

Some friends are posting their appreciation for life's little things in their Facebook status updates throughout this month.

I've decided to do the same here, using as many videos and photos I can come up with since this month will be a little hectic for me - two jobs, grad school, traveling - all of which I'll be writing about soon.

But for now, my very humble gratitude.

Day 1: I am thankful first and foremost for my friends. I wouldn't have a life without them, certainly no quality of life. My instinct has been to run away & bury my head when times are tough. Now I've opened up and invited them in. They've taught me how to be a better person, and to treat myself better, too.

Day 2: I'm truly thankful for all the men in my life, from my friends' husbands and brothers to my ex's, in/significant others, flings and other undefinable things. I'm generally a 'fraidy cat when it comes to establishing  meaningful connections, especially with the hairier sex.

But I remind myself that I've never been intentionally harmed or abused by any male in my life now, and that the pleasure of being acquainted with these very thoughtful, dear men is mine. While stories of the horrendous actions of men exist from my city to the Congo, I'm thankful to my man friends for giving their gender a good name.

Day 3: My iPhone! I'm an anticonsumer who rarely buys new stuff, but I needed a digital camera and a better phone. Additionally, it gave me the ability to put insomnia to good use: reading, browsing the web, bonding via text, talk and photos with friends in different time zones. Plus, there's the inHouse app.

Sample Houseisms:

"Belief implies a level of giving a crap that I am never gonna achieve."

"There's no way a do-gooder like you isn't volunteering all over town, ladling kittens, spaying soup."

Day 4 is easy: Though I am thankful to be employed, I am more thankful that it's Friday.

Wasted Time

Time will go by no matter what we do with our lives, so we might as well do what we like, right? Easier said than done. Yesterday was a Sunday and my first wedding anniversary but I was stuck working for most of the day. Granted I was working from home so it wasn't so terrible, and the task at hand, though tedious, was easy enough that I enjoyed hours and hours of the House marathon - which was pretty ironic since my work was nothing more than counting the amount of positive urinalysis (pee tests) of prescription drug abusers.

Ever since I was a young latchkey kid/couch potato, I've been aware of the power of the media. I knew it made me want things we couldn't afford (or really didn't even want), and encouraged me to look a certain way that was supposedly more physically attractive. The media is so powerful because it's so huge - a few corporations own the hundreds of TV channels we watch, and nearly all of the radio stations (including satellite) and record companies that produce the music we listen to. The same goes for books, magazines, food, and news. One can't feed their body or their mind without being tempted by something not only unhealthy but toxic - it's becoming increasingly difficult to even have access to healthy options.

Take House as an example. It exists to entertain its viewers, not to educate on the travails of recovering from RX drug addiction. That the storyline presents many of the issues an addict faces is a byproduct; the show is not a useful PR tool for those who work in the field of addiction any more than it would be a way to prep med students to be doctors. But it reaches millions more viewers than, say a documentary on addiction. But it's just a tv show, you say. Well, the news functions in a similar way.

This morning as I finished up counting pee tests, I was listening to Counterspin on my local community radio station. It's one of my favorite shows because it asks (and answers) the question: Why is this lame issue taking up time on the news (Tiger Woods' affair) instead of another issue (like those wars the U.S. has going on around the world). One of the issues addressed in today's show was the height of Dennis Kucinich, as if his less-than-the-ideal-male-American stature of 5'7, epitomizes his power as a shrimp of a political figure. When it comes to standing for human rights, Kucinich certainly stands taller than most of the jerks in D.C., but you'd be hard pressed to find anything in the mainstream media that doesn't present him as a hippie loon.

Didn't we learn the danger of stereotypes in junior high? Yet the media relies on them and other short cuts to bring the public "information." Happily, I am not spending my time working for corporate media. I'd rather type away from my home computer, passing along these bits of truth to those lucky enough to be among the handful of my dear readers.