Difficult Seasons

Maybe you’ve noticed that I haven’t been writing here lately.

Missy Dog

It’s my dog’s fault. Well, sort of.

Missy Dog has abundant energy, and is seemingly always either receiving my attention or getting in trouble in an attempt to get it.

Of course, the reasons I haven’t been writing are more complicated than that, and it’s not fair to blame it all on Missy.

On the positive side, I’ve been devoting a lot of time to my photography. There’s so much to learn, so much to shoot, so much to post process and to share.

I’d love for you to drop by my personal blog (which I’ve converted to be primarily a photo blog) to see some of my recent shots and how I’m doing with this newly revived passion.

There was also both an unconscious and conscious decision to pause my writing on this blog. We’ve had a lot going on personally — difficult seasons — so far this year.  Several of my last posts were about my brother-in-law being in hospice. Happily I can tell you that his condition has improved so that he is living independently. But then in March, my 85 year old dad had a heart attack followed by pneumonia, resulting in 10 days in the hospital and an extended recovery. That thrust me into an essentially full-time caregiving role. Happily, his recovery has gone very well. Not only have these situations required a lot of my time, but a lot of emotional energy. Writing about them and difficult seasons in general has just not been something I’ve had the energy to do. And I’ve needed to focus what energy I have had into activities that provide renewal (like the photography).

I’ve missed the writing, though. And I have a number of things that it’d be good to write about. So I’m back — but with no promises about how frequently I’ll post.

Thanks for reading!

Sometimes, in the midst of providing caregiving for family members, we also end up caring for a geriatric dog.

That’s going on at our house.  Jenny Dog is a mixed breed who is 14 1/2 years old.  That’s geriatric for a dog, no matter what you use as a multiplier to get equivalent human years.  Based on her size, she’s probably somewhere between 90 and 100 in human years.

She’s slowed down a lot, just like people do as they get older.  She sleeps a lot, and is not as interested in exerting a lot of energy unless it is to get a special treat.  She’ll lobby me mercilessly in the evenings for a treat, and I really believe it’s her main entertainment in life.  And any time we come back in from being away, she’ll check to see if we brought in a sack that might contain a morsel of food.  And if we’ve been around other dogs, we get a special check.

She likes to follow me around, knows my habits well, and even tries to anticipate where I’m heading.  She no longer follows me around as I mow, however, and really had rather be inside in the air conditioned space than to even hang out on the porch.

She’s had a couple of major medical issues in her life.  She had heart worms as a pup, but weathered the treatment well.  The major issue has been an intestinal problem where her intestines were swollen and not functioning properly due to food allergies. It was resulting in liver and kidney disfunction as well, but fortunately a good vet figured out what was going on.  Unfortunately for Jenny Dog, it means eating a special vet diet which she doesn’t think is very appetizing.  She’ll do her best to beg, steal, or borrow some human food that tastes better.

During the last week or so, she’s been having some trouble getting her back end up when she’s ready to get out of a chair.  She can still bounce up into the chairs with no problem, it’s just getting back out of them that sometimes gives her a problem.  Just another sign of her aging.  She also has problems sometimes with the tile floor, which is also a common issue with older dogs.  It means that sometimes I have to help her.

And like all of us who are aging, her hearing and sight are suffering too.

It’s become painfully obvious to us that her time is limited.  It’s also a constant reminder that we’re aging, and can’t do some of the things we used to do effortlessly.

And taking care of an aging dog is just another part of this journey.

This promises to be a busy week helping Dad with his medical things.

Monday morning Dad’s having a colonoscopy.  He’s had some concerning symptoms, so my prayers are for negative findings, and safety during the procedure.

It’s also probable that we’ll get the pathology report Monday on the two tumors removed from Dad’s bladder last week.  We’d love for it to prove his doctor’s opinion that the tumors are an aggressive cancer wrong, but should it not, it will start in process setting up appointments for followup diagnostic testing and consultations.

He also has an appointment this week with his audiologist.  We’re hoping his hearing aids can be tuned or repaired to get his hearing back to where it was a few months ago.

By the way, for a guy that’s nearing 85, Dad’s amazing in so many ways.  He bounced back from Wednesday’s procedure in rapid fashion, took care of several business items himself later in the week, and was at worship and class this morning doing his regular visiting with lots of folks.

And also, we’ll actually celebrate Father’s Day sometime during the week.  Today he was on his liquid diet and doing the prep for tomorrow’s procedure.  I suspect he’ll be ready for a nice dinner one evening soon.

Thanks for keeping us in your thoughts and prayers as we navigate some new territory for us.  I’ll post updates as we progress through the week.  Thanks for reading, and I hope your week is blessed.

I’m concerned about burning out.

I don’t want to lose my passion, my drive, my desire.

And I’m concerned about you as well.  I don’t want you to hit the wall, to not have the energy to carry on.

All of us who care for and serve others, whether it’s our profession or something we do for family or as ministry, are candidates for burnout.

We have developed different phrases for this phenomenon.  Sometimes we call it compassion fatigue.  Sometimes we use the term, “hitting the wall.”  But “burnout” is probably the term that is most used.  Regardless of the label you put on it, it has the same results, and the causes are the same.

So I’ve decided to write a series of posts on Fighting Against Burnout.  I’m writing it for us.  For me, because I’m seeing some warning signs, and I need to renew my vigil and my protective actions.  For you, because what you do is too important to be compromised.

Here’s a question for you to think about as we begin.  How much reserve do you have in your life right now?  Enough to handle one more crisis?  Enough to take on one more assignment?  Enough to not feel stressed, overwhelmed?

Not how Dad sleeps!

Dad called me Saturday afternoon from a local ER to tell me he was about to be released.  It’s not the first time he’s called me after the fact.

“What’s going on, Dad?”  “Oh, I did a dumb thing and took too much Ambien.  I thought I could just sleep late.  But I fell and got an inch and a half cut on my head.  They’ve stapled it up, and are about to let me go home.  Figured I might as well go ahead and tell you before I see you at church in the morning.”

Then I knew why he hadn’t called.  You see, this isn’t the first time he has abused Ambien and fallen.  There was the time 3 years ago when Eloise and I were visiting him.  He was so out of it that we took him to the ER because we were afraid he had suffered a stroke.  It also happened a few months ago.

We were able to help him stay off of it for a long time after the initial fall.  But he has trouble sleeping, and eventually found a doctor that was willing to prescribe it for him again.  When we talk to him about it, he says, “But you don’t understand my problem sleeping!”

To be honest, I don’t understand his problem with sleeping.  I hit the pillow, and I’m gone and don’t wake up normally until morning.  So it is hard for me to relate.

And since I’m being honest about that, I’ll also tell you that I really don’t know how to deal with this continuing problem in the best way.  I want to protect him from falling, because one of these times he’s going to hurt himself seriously and not be able to get up.  I also want to protect me from him doing that.

So I’m continuing to work hard to convince him of the very real danger of his behavior.  I’m going to try to enlist the help of his doctors as well.  I may even remind him of the advice the ER doctor gave three years ago — that he should be put in assisted living and have them regulate his medications.  And I hope that’s successful.

The problem is, my dad is still able to make his own decisions, go to his own doctor visits, and frankly choose whether or not he abuses Ambien.  Taking this independence away, assuming that I could in the first place, would likely be a cure that has far more severe consequences that the original problem.

So I’m conflicted today.  And praying about it.  And working on it.

_____________________________

Photo Credit: Mike Bitzenhofer Flickr