Young and Old

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The past couple of weeks have flown by. During it I have repeatedly felt like the filling between a slice of young and a slice of old, as I've dashed between the family's oldest and youngest generations.

Grandotty had her first ever sleepover with us when her parents travelled north for a week, before they left with Little Sister  to attend and stay overnight at a wedding celebration. I'm glad to say the grandparents survived unscathed and Grandotty was an absolute delight. The only cloud on the horizon, apart from the post-babysitting fatigue,  was that due to a technical oversight on the part of her parents, we were provided with only 3 spare pairs of disposable training pants for the whole 24 hours that she was in our care. A little slow on the uptake, we didn't realise until after the nearest supermarket (8 miles away) had closed on late Sunday afternoon. Hats off to Grandotty, we didn't quite manage to complete a crash course in toilet training but she did assist in averting what I feared was going to be a disastrous night.

Amidst the visitors I also found myself with a flurry of appointments for my mother at the hospital and elsewhere. Back in June, I referred to the pressure I was beginning to feel under. I'm still stunned by the lack of support out there for the elderly and their families as they strive to cope with a dementia diagnosis and the downhill spiral that ensues. The Government views anyone of state pension age as ineligible for a carer's allowance, presumably because they are recognised as too old to take on primary caring responsibilities. The Local Authority and NHS, however, deflect the burden back, regardless. So long as there appears to be a caring family in the background they are on their own to cope with the complications of an awful disease, presumably unless or until something dreadful happens.

Now I have for the past ten years been of the view that retirement is generally a stress free time and the physical symptoms of overload were very much left behind on the day I closed the office door behind me. The past week, however, has been a wake up call. Is the human body only  capable of taking so much anxiety in a lifetime or is it the case that having wound down over the course of a decade, trying to ramp up again to juggle all the balls is simply no longer possible? Just how many 60-75 year olds are there in the UK today putting their own health at risk looking after an elderly relative?

Sadly, I feel that I've fallen early in the race. Heart palpitations, headaches and nausea serve as a serious warning that this is not a role everyone can fulfil. Health and well-being which I have striven to nurture and prioritise in retirement are fundamental. Without them we put our own lives on the line and are of no use in helping anyone else in the family. Reason has dawned and I'm now working hard on restoring balance and harmony to my own life, as well as pacing effort and contributions to match.

In case I needed any help in slowing down and breathing deeply, today the weather stepped in with a high of 32 degrees; that's modest by European standards but something of a high for the Costa del North Yorkshire. I couldn't even make it to a deck chair in the garden, it felt so hot. No headless chicken impersonations from me, even if I'd wanted to run round.

(Image by daniel alonso from Pixabay) 

 

 

Comments

Mona McGinnis said…
Caree, I've just been through the caregiver role with my mom. She passed away last Aug at the age of 91. I found the emotional toll greater than the physical. Prioritize your selfcare as much as possible. I gave myself "days off" & relinquished her care to the staff of the nursing home she was in. In the words of one of my friends - remember that you have a community. And that includes the community health care workers.
14 August 2025 at 00:26
Caree Risover said…
Yes, it’s definitely the worry and anxiety that affects me but when there appear to be no community health workers that visit, other than for initial assessments, life gets very difficult for everyone.
14 August 2025 at 08:00
Treaders said…
I'm so sorry you're going through this. I remember when my BIL was told there was no help for his mother who, at the time, had dementia and was very aggressive and a danger to herself and to others - he told them "well I'll just dump her in the local hospital then". He wouldn't have of course but as they were living four hours apart and he couldn't get there every day in any case, all of a sudden they found a place for her in a home. There really is not enough care in the community in these situations but the government seems to find tons of ways to divert funds to other dubious causes don't they - often to their own pockets. Did anyone really need to spend £38,000 for a painting of the speaker of the House of Commons?????
14 August 2025 at 09:04
Caree Risover said…
Ive been hearing for years that the social care system for the elderly is in crisis but until you know somebody personally who is affected, I guess you just have no idea. I certainly didn’t.
14 August 2025 at 13:51
Jennyff said…
We imagine many aspects of our lives are safely covered until we actually call upon them for help and realise we are on our own. I am sorry you are facing yet another exhausting battle, I hope you find the strength to keep going. x
15 August 2025 at 12:08
Caree Risover said…
The imagination in this instance even gets fed bý over-promises that aren’t so much under-delivered as not delivered at all, the net result of services stretched to breaking point and a lack of cohesion between them all. I shall survive but I’m already getting battered.
15 August 2025 at 12:33
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