So, I’m still at a loss for what to add, here, that I haven’t already added. I need someone to STEP UP and send me a guest post! In lieu of an original thought, I’ll send you some from the long-gone year of 2015 because, once again and sadly, not much has changed other than the fact that I am indeed, older and the world pandamnic pretty much exposed for everyone what we MoFaCas already knew.
There's a story making its rounds today titled Disability Caregiving May Lead to Memory Decline in Moms.
Sigh.
Go on and read it, especially the parts where they talk about dads, except that for them they use the word fathers.***
Feminist language, sigh.
It reminds me of another story -- years ago -- that demonstrated that providing care to a family member with a chronic illness or disability is not associated with increased risk of death in most cases, but may instead be associated with modest survival benefits for the caregivers. That one was titled Caregivers Live Longer, Study Says, and it was in the American Journal of Epidemiology. I wrote about it here.
Both articles were in a pretty decent disability aggregator website called Disability Scoop whose digest I receive once or twice a week in my inbox.
Can I be honest?
Studies annoy me and seem, sometimes, like a giant waste of time and money. Take a good look at me and any number of my comrades in arms (except perhaps for the everything is a blessing and everything has a meaning and is part of God's plan people), and it's pretty clear that we have a hard road to hoe. Do we really need to be studied before getting some help from the Powers That Be? I read about memory decline in "moms" who do the majority of caregiving and think, no shit, Sherlock. And given that my comrades-in-arms are also some of the strongest, most kick-ass REAL tiger women on the planet, I think no shit, Sherlock, when I hear that we live longer than "normal" folk.
As far as the new study goes, maybe losing your memory in a long, long life ain't such a bad deal, anyway.
Right, Moms?
***Before you get your boxers or tightie whities in a wad, I know there are plenty of dads -- or fathers -- out there doing primary caregiving of their disabled children. This post doesn't include or exclude you.
Well, at least I know why my memory is just shit:)
When I think back to what it was like when Katie still lived at home, it was horrible. Up until she turned eleven, it was just hard, but when puberty hit at eleven, it became a nightmare. She was very agressive and violent, usually with me because I spent the most time with her. I remember crying a lot, feeling hopeless, feeling dead, feeling like nothing good could ever happen again. Every single morning was filled with dread as soon as I heard her feet hit the floor. It sounds so awful writing it out but it's the truth.
When her first group home placement failed and I chose to bring her home, my husband didn't want her back home. I knew I was done with him at that point. Then it was a matter of finding a safe place for Katie and then myself. My husband's drinking increased and his verbal abuse increased. I found what I thought was a safe place for her and I divorced my husband.
Turns out the second group home placement was a failure as well when the agency was taken over by the son of the original owner. Katie is now with a good agency but that took ten years and caused trauma to both Katie and me. She is in a good place now.
I still believe that Katie has taught me so much but I wouldn't wish those teachings on anyone.
Although I have not spent my life caregiving on the level that you have by any means, I have done my share of the "normal" kind. Is that even a thing? Well, for women it is, I do believe. Even with my far more limited lifetime of it, I have no doubt that my life has been affected in ways that I can't begin to grasp.