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Notes from the Road, #20: Caregiver Duties and Burnout

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It’s been a difficult past few weeks, worse than before. My family member had an episode last weekend during a brief power outage, and it messed with their oxygen concentrator enough that they’re having a hard time bouncing back from it.

One of their care team members brought over some morphine, and last night when I came back from Wally World, they asked for some as a trial run to see how they react to it.

I agreed, and grabbed it from the fridge. I tried to open it as carefully as possible, since I heard that stuff kills people. I saw something on TV about this cop who handled it and it messed them up. I went into the kitchen to get the scissors to poke a flap in the seal as a last resort, making a note to run them through the dishwasher before I ever used them again.

Their nurse and I were talking today after they got done, and gave me the news that neither of us wanted: there isn’t a lot of time left. This wasn’t the outcome I was hoping for, since like I said earlier, I’ve heard instances of people who lived for several years with conditions similar in severity.

My goal is to continue making them outliers. Like I said, we’re a team.

Addiction is brutal, no matter what it is, and I’m seeing the results of it firsthand.

Now I’m more scared than ever. I wanna be able to stay in this house, and the job search thus far has proven itself to be a joke, especially those “Help Wanted” signs. Employers have been either ghosting me, or treating me like crap, one of the two.

Obviously they don’t want or need the help that bad if that’s how they’re gonna treat people, huh?

Whatevs. The way they’ve treated me has been duly noted. All I gotta say to them is that karma’s a bytch, and I hope they never end up having to go through this.

I honestly wish this was me instead of my family member. If I could trade places with them, I’d do it right this second.

Nobody deserves this. Idgaf who you are, where you are, or whatever you did or didn’t do. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

Not even someone like the former president, or even Hitler himself.

In the past, I would’ve drowned out my feelings in food. It was what played a role in why I got to the size I did at my height, and it was the only way I knew how to cope with it.

Not anymore. I can’t go back to that. I won’t go back to that. I’ve come so close to where I’d like to be with my weight loss goals. I’m not throwing it out the window. It was a childhood coping mechanism that served some purpose for me at the time.

Not anymore. It’s not worth it to me, and it’s not worth me dying over it. That’s exactly what would’ve happened to me if I’d continued down the path I was on, before I made that change in November 2017 to lose this weight.

Over the past two years of my family member’s decline in their health, I’ve been so exhausted it isn’t even funny. Now I know what it’s called: caregiver burnout.

Some days, I wished I truly was dead, especially when I’d have a flare-up in my own health issues, and also when a product I tried that promised to make life better for me ended up making my own quality of life even worse.

It was around that time I took up the Bang and their knockoff varieties. I touched on this before, but I’d have multiple cans of it in one day. It was ruining me in more ways than I realized, and I’ve kept my promise to you to stay away from that shyt. I told my family member that I haven’t gone near them in a month a few weeks back, and it’s staying that way as my promise to them and to you.

No more of that crap either. It’s not worth whatever benefits it claims, or whatever short-term benefits it actually gave me.

Readers, if you’re going through something similar in your lives, I see you. Feel free to slide into my DMs here if you need someone to talk to, or you can drop your thoughts like they’re hot in the comments below.

Missed the last installment? No worries, I gotcha covered here: 19

 

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