“We are all in this together.” How many times have you heard that said? How many times have you said it? I am convinced we will look back at 2020 (maybe even 2021) and the pandemic health crisis that stole life and memories like a war, coined the phrase “social distancing,” and required we wear a mask in public as a thing of the past that our grandkids and great grandkids will study in history class. But that does not make it any easier to navigate right now.
I am also convinced that our new normal will not be the same as the one we knew before this craziness began. Zoom meetings, online ordering, watching church on our phones, and working from home are here to stay. But even that doesn’t make daily survival any easier. In fact, it tangles how I’ve always done things, requiring me to adapt and conform.
I love to problem-solve. I like to plan. It’s one of my strengths. I enjoy the challenge of fixing the broken, enhancing the dull, and unraveling the complicated. I have been hired (many times) to expand, repair, find solutions, overhaul, raise money, and put right. I enjoy the challenge, the process, the learning, and the network required to get from one side of a problem to the other. It’s invigorating!
I have recently appreciated trying to adapt and conform. I have been learning to use Zoom and teach my university students online. I have wrestled with new ways to meet the needs of my clients and creative ways to socially distance myself and still enjoy the company of my friends. I have read articles about Coronavirus vaccines and testing methods that I hope will work. I have voted in this highly volatile and controversial election, and I make my bed every morning. All because I want to be a part of a solution and because I want to do my part in the together part of “We are in this together.”
But COVID, the unrest in my country, and my work are not my only concerns.
Lately, I’ve been asking, almost out loud, “What happens when the problem is not solvable or when the solution is not favorable?”
I have an elderly mom who does not adapt and conform easily. She started this Coronavirus health crisis as a resident in an independent living facility for seniors. Helping her understand why I could no longer visit, why meals were not being served in the dining room, and why her hairdresser was closed was a daily challenge. Then she broke her hip. Now she lives with me and Doug.
Doug has also been nursing a painful hip. For a couple of years, actually. His hip deterioration has been a gradual sort of thing. We finally saw his orthopedic surgeon early in March, before COVID-19 made the news. He was put on a list for a total hip replacement. Then COVID became a household word. What we thought would be surgery in a couple of weeks became a wait for surgery for months and months. Finally, the surgery happened. Pain medication and dementia… I wasn’t prepared. I think I will hold off telling you about that for another blog.
Here is a sweet picture of Doug and Mom healing together.
My home life these days mostly rides on the merry-go-round of caregiving. I care for Doug, who is, one day at a time, sadly progressing into the tragedy of dementia. And I care for my 88-year-old mom, who isn’t aware of her many limitations and who doesn’t like to wear her hearing aids. I bounce around between cooking meals, giving directions, repeating myself, incontinence embarrassments, repeating myself, physical therapy appointments, laundry, and repeating myself. The days when I laugh, get a hug (socially distanced, of course), see a friend (wearing a mask, of course), and drop a couple pieces into the 300-piece jigsaw puzzle being worked on the table are good days. Those are the days that keep me balanced.
Most of the time, I think I am pretty strong. Most of the time, I think I can handle it.
That is until I burst into tears because I forgot to bring the garbage can up the driveway and got a homeowners association ticket for leaving it out. Or until the lady in the car on my left doesn’t put her blinker on as she crosses into my lane and forces me to slam on my brakes and lay on my horn. Or until I feel my pulse in my temples when I repeat the point three times more often than I really feel is necessary. Or until the frustration rises in my chest as I approach the front of the grocery store, notice the glaring masked faces staring at me, and realize I left my mask on the counter at home.
My family has noticed the reality of my waning strength. They love me enough to step up and start talking about it. They see past the inaccurate “I can do this by myself” perspective I wear like a medal around my neck. They call. They visit from afar. They talk with me. They talk without me. They love…
They convinced me to move us closer.
It’s time. I know it is time to be geographically closer to family. It is time to share my caregiving experiences, responsibilities, and my people (Doug and Mom) with my close-knit family. My son is not shy to remind me that today is the best day dementia will have. He’s right, you know. He’s right about a lot of things. He’s even right that it is also time I build respite into what I am now starting to admit is a weary frame.
Moving closer to family means moving about 1000 miles north of where we live now. It will be moving back to very familiar territory. It has been home to us before. It is home to most of our family. Moving north will put us close enough that family can drop by unannounced (without a plane ticket) and be present whenever it feels like they need to be present. I look forward to that.
But, in the light of complete transparency, as good as a move north promises respite, family presence, and the familiar, I am sad to leave this place Doug and I have called home for ten years. I am sad to leave the place itself. The sunshine. The people. The memories. The friends. Mostly the memories.
Doug was healthy when we landed here and started a new thing. We loved it together. We made some beautiful friendships together and enjoyed the amazing landscape, outdoor adventures, and patio dining under the summer misters and the winter heaters. Now I love it mostly by myself.
That said, I know how blessed I am to have a close-knit family who is willing to help me navigate through the dementia problem that does not have a favorable solution. I realize the blessing of having siblings who want to share in problem-solving our only living parent’s old age, limitations, and dignity. I embrace the blessing of having a family tribe that wants to be a tribe close in geography, regardless of the inevitable messy and new normal we will face together. I am thankful every day for this.
You see, we really are in this together. As a family, we have decided to adapt and conform together in geography and toil. As a tribe, we have committed to navigating the waters before us no matter how difficult the journey becomes, regardless of what the new normal will look like, whether it is easy or hard. One-day-at-a-time.
So today, I go to Home Depot, adorn the mask, and pick up boxes and packing tape. I donate things I have not used in far too long and rest in the love surrounding me. The moving van pulls out in a little more than two weeks.
I am the lucky one.
Karen
As it is in Heaven 
Oh Karen…such a beautiful blog. We (I really mean I) will miss you very, very much!!! Please accept this hug from “away”. See you Friday for the last time here….but hopefully in PDX. Send me your new address if you feel inclined. Andee
Andee Wright 47865 Stillwater Drive La Quinta, CA 92253-7119 Tel: 760.564.1408
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Karen, thank you for sharing all of this with all of us. I am happy- sad-happy-sad-happy-sad for you.
You are so strong and capable, and so smart to know that you need the love and actual support of your loving family. Yes- you are the lucky one. ❤️ Ann Montgomery
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Dear Karen, You will be missed. But I sure understand the move. I hope you will continue with your blog.I hope some day when I am back in Portland we can go get coffee. You are a wonderful teacher, caregiver and friend to many. Love, Marilyn Schneider
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Karen, you continue to amaze me. The tenderness you feel for both your mom and your husband amaze me-your daily job is grueling, heartbreaking, maddening. Yet you do what you have to do and forge ahead. I know your pain and you amaze me. You write this blog not only for you, as difficult as it is and as time consuming as it is, for the rest of us. You are leading the way and I thank you. I wish you well in your new arrangement and hope it can work for all of you. You are a blessing and I hope every day you find a small glimmer of happiness. Thank you
Sally Miller. I met you as you taught the water aerobics class at Palm Desert.
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Karen I will miss you so much , your in my prayers please keep in touch . Leti Peterson
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As usual, your blog made me laugh and cry. I am so sorry that you are having to leave a place of good memories and joy for you and Doug. I will pray for you as you pack, that He would bring you great peace and hope! Much love to you and Doug.
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Dear Karen
I am lucky as well. Lucky that you were not only the best personal trainer ever, but that I can call you my friend.
You certainly are facing uncertainty as the years progress but having your family support will be important. You should not navigate the challenges alone.
You will be so missed but hopefully we can keep in touch(especially with zoom)
With sadness, but love 💕
Minette
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Oh Karen. Huge virtual hug. Been thinking of you and your mom and Doug so much lately. I would love to support you and your family in any possible way. Will you be moving closer to Eugene? Feel free to message me. Meantime sending you every bit of love and strength I can. You are amazing, woman.
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Oh Karen, I appreciate your transparency! I am so thankful you can move closer to family🙏🙂and get the respite you need,😘what a tough season as caretaker to husband and mom. Pray you sense Gods love, strength, peace, and joy in the midst of it all:) I always love you!
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I’ve been thinking about you lately, and wondering – and now I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out and say so. You continue to be a source of inspiration to me in your non-sugar-coated realness and basic goodness. Loving you and praying more. xo
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Thank you for sharing your life, struggles and victories with us. I started to say, I don’t know how you do it – but that’s not true. Even now the Lord is preparing someone else to face the hardships you have and they will gain strength through your testimony. You and Doug were so much more important to us when we left MoVal and moved to the desert than you will ever know. And when we later moved back we brought what we learned with us to resume our lives here. We’re sorry we were never able to come back to visit, but take our love and prayers with you.
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Thank you for sharing your heart, Karen. Praise God for your family sharing the burden/blessing of caring for Doug and your Mom. You are wise to move forward and you will be a huge blessing by being close to your family and sharing life together. Love you and Doug and appreciate your love and friendship during the years of ministry in Olympia. God is good. – Pat and Dick
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Karen,
So glad your moving around family. Dementia is a long road. I have been working as a CNA in a Alzheimer Dementia Care Facility in Troutdale Oregon. (Almost 1 year) I think and pray for you and Doug a lot. You are doing an amazing job. It is not an easy job. Keep it up and know YOU are in my prayers.
God Bless you and give you patience, peace, and love. Jennifer Tappero
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Karen, beautifully put. Thank you. May your move bring more good things your way. You deserve it all. Thank you for your steady presence as my teacher and co-conspirator in my ever improving health. You have helped me stay strong. And though I will miss you, your move is the right move for your family and We Will Carry On. 💕
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Karen I felt the need to pray with you. I have gone through the feeling of being overwhelmed by the stress dementia in a loved one can bring. Here is my prayer for you.
Dear God, Karen is in a situation that requires her to do what might seem impossible. She needs your help! Thank you for encouraging her one day at a time. Give her the power to accomplish the little things so that over time she can get through the overwhelming challenge. I trust you will take care of what she cannot control. Thank you for this opportunity to show her your power. Lord, thank you for her family and friends. Let her know it is okay to accept their help and not feel guilty about it if she stops to relax. She needs to take break to care for her physical and spiritual needs. Otherwise she will not have energy and miss precious moments of quiet time with you. Thank you for loving her and her family. Amen
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Dear Karen
You are an amazing person I hope to learn from you It has been an honor to be in your classes
I wish the best for the future Sheila
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Dear Karen,
A big hug is being sent to you and I so appreciate your share. Please know how much I appreciate you and all the hard work you continue to do on your journey in life. So glad that you all will be together with family close to help you. You are an angel and I am so blessed to have had you as my teacher. You are always in my thoughts, prayers and my arms are around you. God bless you and your family ❤️❤️
Melinda Moore
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Karen,
You have many talents and expressing your story in writing is just one of them. Thank you for sharing.
I have enjoyed getting to know you a little better this summer and so grateful that you were able to join us for socially distanced boot camp.
Wishing you love and luck in this next chapter. All the best. We will miss you but I don’t believe this is goodbye.
XX Barbara Ferguson
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