I leave feeling dirty and self-repulsed some days,
Proud and honored the next.
Many people tell me they couldn't do what I do regularly..
If they found themselves spraying off a urine soaked wheelchair pad or listening to Edna inquire about the date, for the third time in an hour...to put it delicately... they would be either puking or pulling their hair out.
But I do this daily.
I am the one left to wipe your mother's ass- because you are grossed out by her incontinence.
I am also the one who explains to her over and over why she can't call you when she is scared and lonely.
When tucking her into bed at night, saying a soft prayer for her slumber, she recognizes not my face, but yours. She smiles holding my hand and tells me how much she has missed me and how very proud she is of me.
Missed you-proud of you. Well I'm not.
Might it surprise you to know that this is the part of my job I take pride in? The parts I honor and am honored for.
On the other hand they don't want me- they want you, mom, sister, husband, child...
Their Alzheimer's, car crashes, epilepsy, cancer, paralysis, and handicaps took away the things they could handle. And the one thing they needed was you. Where are you?
Don't make excuses like, "They don't even recognize me anymore." They do, it's in their eyes.
"She is too hard to look at." So are you.
"He was a horrible father...why should I give him the time of day?" We are all human, he did the best he could with what he was given!
Other days I feel repulsed and awful-a true intruder, a violator.
After a straight week of refusing his shower he is dripping with sweat, dried urine, and old food fragments.
He is going to take a shower tonight...he is 'ok' until it's time to wash his intimate areas.
You offer him the wash rag and he says he can't...he needs you to do it.
Like you have done one hundred times before, with him and tons of others over the years.
He still doesn't want you to do it, but it has to be done. He can't afford another yeast infection...another rash.
You wash him and all the time he is looking at you like you raped him. Like you want to hurt him...
A few tears streak down his face and you are as gentle as possible, but it doesn't help you know how violated he must feel.
I don't blame them, I would react the same if not worse.
I walk to my car and bawl on my lunch break. Disgusting.
He has seen me everyday for two years and I am still a stranger every hour.
He has seen me everyday for two years and I am still a stranger every hour.
Dear God, please let them forgive me- forgive the world.
