I’m the lady at the airport struggling to open the water bottle I’ve just purchased, and clearly having no luck. My husband who is standing by doesn’t notice, but a 20s something young man, who has just purchased an overpriced sandwich to sustain him for the flight, does. “Can I help you with that,” he asks, sporting a friendly smile. I feel blessed by his thoughtfulness and grateful that I can now quench my thirst.
You could ask why did I not ask for help, from my husband, or from the person who sold me the water? In truth, I have done that before. Stopping at a gas station on the turnpike when I was driving by myself I’ve picked out a bottle of water and said to the clerk, “I’ll buy this if you can open it for me.” But that may be more blackmail than asking directly for help.
Asking for help is not my first impulse, in small and large things. As a woman: a mother, a grandmother, a professional social worker, I have been more often, the helper. And, working with people who care for others, either professionally or in their family lives, I find they, like me, often have trouble asking for help for themselves. And it isn’t just asking, it can come down to allowing someone to help. At a workshop for caregivers recently a man asked, “Do you have any advice for me as to how to get my wife to allow me to help with the care of my mother who is living with us.” Sounded like he was having trouble wrestling the laundry basket away from her.
I assured him it’s often a challenge for many women to let go of doing it all ourselves. I encouraged him not to give up trying to take an active part since care-giving is a hazardous occupation and not a solo endeavor. “It’s like with a successful football team,” I told him, “caregiving takes ‘a deep bench,’ so that when one player is injured or exhausted, there is another to fill in, and another one after that.
My daughter taught me the best lesson about putting together a support team. After the treatments for her breast cancer failed to work and it became clear the journey was going to take much longer than expected, she reached out to almost everyone in her life. As an astute executive might do, she surveyed her address book and the interests and skills of the people in it. She recruited each person to help with one of the things needed to keep her household of three young children running smoothly. One friend did her ironing, another shopped for her for birthday and Christmas gifts, and someone else wrapped the presents. Sorority sisters flew in to relieve me for some weekends when I was her primary caregiver, and soccer moms and friends from the church took turns delivering meals to her house. And this went on for nearly two years.
My daughter-in-law is involved now, with her stepdad, in the care of her mother who is in hospice and living in a cottage on her property. When I mentioned Corinne’s caregiver support team she said something true, and something that most everyone says, “But my friends are all soo busy! I hate to ask them.” I reminded her of what my daughter had told her husband when he was reticent for them to ask neighbors and friends for help. “People want to help. And remember how good we feel when we help somebody. Well, we’re giving that to them when we find ways for them to help us.”
When I visited with my sister grandmother last weekend she was feeling very uncomfortable being the person in the center of the family who was being helped and cared for. “I don’t want to inconvenience everybody,” she told me. She was wishing she could just die that day. A few days later, after spending quality time with her granddaughter and other family members she told me, “Today is the happiest day of my life. I feel so grateful that so many people love me. How lucky I am.” And those of us who had been giving to her felt so blessed to hear that she had received our love
Sheila
