Caregiver Trauma / PTSD: we will leave it to the licensed therapist to sort that out, but what happens for me, and many other caregivers is not fun when it sets in. Here’s how my caregiver’s brain works.
It’s cold here in Washington, and Mom’s central heating and cooling system needs the filter changed. This is what my mom and I assume because her system stopped working yesterday. I, with my no filter changing skills, scared shitless of the attic (with no logical reasoning why), totally intimidated by this massive heating and cooling system, self-think, I’ll figure it out. So, after three attempts at going into the attic and having to come out and take deep breaths, I finally figured out how to change the filter.
I think everything is ok because I came downstairs, and the thermostat now says 63 degrees when it said 60 before. Mom and I both feel a little hope and think it’s going to be okay. I make her dinner, tuck her in bed, and go home. My caregiver brain starts saying, what if you installed it wrong and there is a fire? Should you go back and remind Mom about the fire escape plan? I had better check the security cameras; nope, she’s okay. Drink some tea, Christina, and she will be okay.
Not too long later, I’m checking the security cameras again and know the mom’s-gonna-die-in-a-fire nightmares are going to be part of my night if I don’t try to calm my caregiver’s brain. Ok, let’s pray…. Amen! Ok, just in case god is busy, I should check the cameras again and again. It’s 2:00 am, so I need sleep. Check the camera one last time! Ok, no fire. She looks fine, and God has been notified, so let’s try to sleep.
A melatonin, 2 cups of sleepy time, and chamomile tea. Later, I wake up at 4:32 am, check the cameras, and all seems ok. Trying just to do normal life stuff and telling myself it’s all gonna be ok and breathing through it. I call the day shift caregiver right as she gets there and ask if it’s cold in the house, and she says, “Yes, it’s freezing.” I immediately take the little money I have and jump on Facebook marketplace to buy some used space heaters because I know we can’t afford emergency weekend rates to fix this. I show up at Mom’s and talk to her, and 10 minutes after plugging in the used space heaters to tide us over until regular business hour rates, I’ve blown a fuse.
My heart rate and blood pressure start to climb as I walk to the fuse box and move all the excess crap mom has been holding onto from her life before the stroke. I realize the space heaters are too old to work safely. Let’s check the thermostat again… it says to change the batteries. I find batteries and change them and quickly realize these batteries are left over from pre-stroke days and send the caregiver to get new ones. I started calling more places to try to find someone. Emergency weekend rates are between $209-$500 just for them to park in our driveway, and then the parts and labor charges are on top of that. I start doing caregiver math. $209-$500 is at least eight hours of care for mom or four shipments of adult diapers. We will need to find the money for that somehow if we get the heat fixed.
I go into a full-blown panic attack because I now must choose between heat for my mother or care for my mother. What for most people would be a simple heating problem has now become a life-and-death situation thanks to caregiver brain. The flashbacks start to come from the day she had her stroke, her being hooked up to life support, the Drs telling me she only has a 1% chance to live; I snap back to today FUCK WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A PANDEMIC BECAUSE OF A VIRUS THAT EFFECTS THE RESPIRATORY SYSTEM. All our local hospitals are in crisis protocol, which means they have limited supplies because they have so many patients, and they are only using things like ventilators on patients they know have a higher chance of survival.
One of my friends is literally planning her mother’s funeral this weekend because her mom was in the same shape as my mother and got sick. The hospital had to make a choice, and they had no choice but to use the limited resources they had on someone who was healthier. MOM CAN’T GET SICK; SHE GOING TO DIE, AND IT’S GOING TO BE MY FAULT IF I DO FIGURE IT OUT. I have to choose heat NOW. The guy comes out, and it’s not a simple fix. The part won’t be in until Monday or Tuesday, and the temperatures are dropping here. My world stops. All my plans for the weekend are canceled. When I say plans, I mean caregiver luxuries like showering, cooking some healthy meals, cleaning my house, catching up on work, sleeping in my own bed, and spending time with my pets. The weekend will be spent keeping my mother in bed with multiple blankets, managing my grief, fear, and panic attacks while pretending everything is ok in front of her so she doesn’t get scared and praying, please, God, don’t let mom get sick. Are you there, God??? It’s me, the Caregiver!!!
Christina is available to speak on the topic of caregiver relationships and empowerment. Please contact her for details. The information shared is for general information only; please consult your healthcare team, legal, or financial advisors for guidance on your situation.
