Your father is a relatively active man, pushing 60. He drives himself around, occasionally hangs out with his friends, and visits his farm daily; the model retiree.
As you prepare for church, you hear your mother screaming and then you see it-your father slumped on the floor holding his hairbrush, unable to speak or stand. You dash across the room screaming his name, staring at his confused face.
Everything is a blur of activities, transporting him to the general hospital, the repeated questions as different people ask you to describe what happened, to do this test, and this scan. After what feels like days, they tell you he had a stroke and he is going to be managed and monitored.
The hospital is another world on its own, with constant vigil. By the second day, your relatives are aware, wanting to visit to show their support. You inform them the visiting time is by 4, the hospital has a strict one visitor policy, but they persist and the nurses make their displeasure known. Your aunties won’t stop calling to let you know they are at the gate, the doctors have prescribed another drug unavailable at the hospital pharmacy. You have spent the last few days; answering questions, queuing at the ATM, buying drugs, trying not to cry and failing, panicking, wondering where the burial will hold, banishing such thoughts.
Your father is different, he looks less himself and more like a man his age. The doctors certify him stable and refer to Physiotherapy. You see them coaxing his muscles to respond to their touch, vaguely aware of your mother muttering prayers by his bedside.
The discharge papers are ready, the bills paid, but your father is refusing to use a wheelchair because he isn’t an invalid and God did not create him to use such.
………………………………….
The nurses are spanking her, you are tired, staying awake is requiring the last bit of strength you have. Why isn’t she crying?
It has been 10 months. She cannot control her neck and your mother’s constant attempt to put her to sit yields no results. You’re tired of explaining to people that your beautiful baby has Cerebral Palsy. The looks of pity and constant questions the few times you are brave enough to take her out is stressing you out.
Your mother believes getting pregnant is the next step to take, says the new child will spur her to move. Your mother-in-law is certain this is a spiritual attack, sending prayers and inviting you to one mountain or the other to correct it all.
……………………………..
Being responsible for another human is a daunting task and in our bid to keep them alive and well, we neglect our wellbeing. Caregiving is an exercise in reassurance, in butting heads and arguing about the next step to take. It involves a lot of sacrifice and dedication.
In your quest to provide the best care, you must also strive to take care of yourself and recognize certain triggers. It is said that you cannot give what you don’t have and no matter how many times it is said, it is not a cliché. Nothing can come out of an empty cup, no matter how many times you shake it.
It is not selfish to take care of yourself and look after your mental health. Caregiving does not equal sacrificing your physical and mental health.
Take a break when you have to. I promise you, it is not selfish and you need it.
-Oyinkonsola