It’s Tuesday morning, early 6:30 A.M. I wonder how I’m going to feel today. Sitting in my bed, I checked my energy level initially. Feels pretty good, much better than yesterday that’s for sure. Heading out into the living room and walking into the kitchen, I’m still checking out how I feel. I was in bed last night at 9:00, and I’ve slept pretty well, only getting up once to check on Deb asleep in the other bedroom. “What a difference a day can make,” I think to myself as I put the teapot on the burner and prepare the funnel with two tablespoons of ground coffee sitting atop my cup.
What I know now, that I didn’t always know, is that mornings like this one are hard-won. They are earned on the other side of caregiver fatigue that can quietly and ruthlessly take you down if you don’t learn to see it coming.
The water is ready, and I slowly pour the steaming water over the grounds in the filtered funnel. I pour a glass of water from the dispenser on the fridge and drink it down. It’s always good to drink a nice, cool glass of water when you first get up in the morning. The last water I had was nine hours ago. Out on the porch, I looked out and saw the little rabbit and, much to my surprise, a rather large field mouse with a very long tail. They are both foraging on the ground together. I never knew that rabbits and rats could get along so well. One is a rodent; the other a lagomorph. Well, oh well. I just learned something already this morning.
When the Caregiver Needs to Rally
It’s time for me to rally. I get my phone and headset, open my Amazon Music app, and put on David and Steve Gordon’s Gamma Waves and Binaural Beats. These are isochronic tones and nature sounds. I retrieve my yoga mat and foam pad from behind the couch, which I use for my knees in the kneeling position, as it also substitutes for a yoga block. The headphones are on, and it’s time to start breathing with my baby Buddha on the floor in front of me. I start out with my cat-cows and cobras. This is a yoga-stretch flow that I created for myself. I can adjust the length anywhere from 20 minutes to one hour. It’s going to be a long one this morning. The thoughts come to me about what I still need to do and what I’m going to do today… I let them come and go right out as I focus on my breathing and form. That is the key to gaining the meditative state. But what I’m really glad about is that “yesterday is gone” and I have my energy…almost.
What Caregiver Fatigue Really Feels Like
Yesterday morning, when I got up and was sitting on the bed, I knew, I knew something was off. I fell into another dream, sitting up on my bed. That never happens. Going into the kitchen and starting my coffee seemed like such a chore. I just want to be back in bed, but I must teach that 8:00 fit for life class at the Y across the street. One must “show up.” Is this what Deb feels like all day, not wanting to move at all? I asked myself.
I got on the scale and it read 180 LB. I know I am depressed, haven’t been cooking; instead going out to eat and spending money on the wrong kind of food. It’s bad for me and it’s bad for her.
My mind is going to the wrong places, and I know it. I sit down at my laptop and decide which music set I’m going to use for the class this morning. I make sure that the music flows with the exercise patterns we’re going to do. I am so tired. Even this was draining. I made it through the class and getting home Deb is still in bed, which is not unusual. I must get her up out of bed almost every day. And she complains almost every day. “Deb, it’s time to get up.” “What for?” She responds. “Because it’s 11:30 and you are getting up now! Don’t make me pull you out of that bed.” She is like a child now. I am exhausted and not sure what is going on with me.
The Physical Toll of Constant Caregiving
I get her up. She is having surgery on Thursday, and I need to take her across the street for an X-ray of her abdomen so the surgeon can compare the last picture taken with this new one. “We have to get an X-ray of your urinary tract, so get up now please. I have your clothes ready right here on the bed. You need to drink some water before your coffee.” (This is the carrot on the stick.)
She is out of bed, and I go to the kitchen to get her a carrot muffin and her coffee. I am so fatigued. I have a sinus headache, and everything I do is a big, big chore. I just want to lie down. Am I getting sick? I wondered.
It’s 12:30 PM and we are at the medical center. I have her dressed for this procedure. No metal buttons, no bra with hooks, drawstring pants. This is not my first rodeo, far from it. All goes well without a hitch. I make the appointment for her bloodwork for next Tuesday at 11:20. She has her annual physical on the following Thursday.
We are back at the condo. It’s 1:30 PM and I feel like I have been in a marathon. But I didn’t ride my road bike at all last week. I had the flat on Saturday morning, and since I was only about 1 mile into the ride, I just dismounted and walked back to the trail parking lot. . I wasn’t going to change the flat on the road. I told myself that the next time I have a flat, I am going to replace the tires, true the wheels. ( I have the equipment). And I did the next day, Sunday. New tires, a nice clean drivetrain. But I won’t ride tomorrow. I need to take another day to see if this extreme fatigue is a real problem. My blood pressure is high… Stage one, sometimes in the afternoon stage two, but it comes down in the evening.
I am saying to myself, “I have a consulting business to run… the projects are always a rush job from the client’s view…” But not from mine; not today. I have to control my time. It is more valuable than the money I need to bring in.
Small Acts of Self-Care That Make a Big Difference
I get Deb something to eat, turn on the TV and I retire to my bed… this afternoon and the rest of this day is only resting time. Hopefully, recovery time. I fall asleep almost immediately and sleep for 3 solid hours.
Getting up, I felt a little better, but my energy was not even close to 100%… maybe 50%. A cup of green tea with lemon perked me up a little more. Enough to get me to the Publix supermarket next door and pick up a steak, arugula, and brussels sprouts. Dinner was ready at 7:30. Steak off the grill, steamed red potatoes, hand-mashed with yogurt, a little butter, and fresh dill. The salad was fresh, with grated beet, fresh strawberries, goat cheese, and chopped walnuts over a bed of arugula, finished with a raspberry-walnut dressing.
A huge victory. I felt good about myself.
Deb did the dishes…. I got a movie on for her, laid her pajamas out, and I was in bed at 9 PM.
Only Other Caregivers Know
The caregiving I do, taking care of Deborah, is a constant pressure and anxiety-inducing job. It is incessant, and it has been pretty rough lately. The constant mantras of “drink your water”, “drink your water”, “drink your water” and “get up and move”, “get up and move”, “get up and move” are so persistent; only other caregivers really know and understand the gravity: the weight.
Finding Your Way Back: Rest, Recovery, and Routine
Self-care for a caregiver is not a luxury. It is the work that makes all the other work possible. The yoga mat on the floor, the glass of water at sunrise, the three hours of rest in the afternoon, the steak off the grill….. these are not indulgences. They are the small, deliberate acts of a person determined to stay standing. Because the person in the other room needs you standing. And so do you. If any of this feels familiar, the fatigue, the rally, the slow climb back to yourself, you are not alone, and you are not without resources. The stories and fitness strategies happening at solidtothecore.com and bicyclehigh.com are built for exactly this: adults over 50 who refuse to stop moving, physically, mentally, and spiritually; even on the hard days. Especially on the hard days.