My life changed on October 22, 1997. That was the day I was thrown into the role of full time caregiver and it felt like my life was turned upside down. Just two weeks prior to that day, I had undergone outpatient surgery and was just starting to feel recovered myself. It was a beautiful October day. My two sons, had finished their homework and went outside to play ball. I decided to take a quick nap before starting dinner. That’s when I heard Clara yelling for help. She fell and broke her arm which left her almost immobile. As if a broken bone wasn’t bad enough, she broke her arm right about where it meets the shoulder. A cast was not possible so a sling was put on and it was stressed that she had to keep that arm completely immobile. It was her right arm and she was right handed.
As we got back home that night from the emergency room, Clara was filled with fear, mainly that she would move her arm without meaning too. Clara’s eyesight had already put certain limitations on what she felt she could do, and now she sat paralyzed with fear to even move. I was embarrassed when Clara asked me to undress her and put her pajamas on, but my compassion for her outweighed my embarrassment. I was ever so careful as I slipped off her clothes, put her pj’s on, then helped her into bed. The next morning, I was over early to help her back out of bed and to her sofa. I tested her sugar level as I had been doing regularly and then got her syringe of insulin out of the refrigerator. Clara said she needed both hands to give herself the injection; one hand to grab a fleshy part of her belly, and the other hand the give the injection. Since she only had use of one hand, Clara said I would have to give the injection. I have to admit, the thought of it made me very nervous and I’m not normally a nervous person. Flashbacks of the session with the nurse during the injection lessons came to mind and I visualized the nurse standing over me like she had with Clara insisting that I give the injection. I also remembered that my injection hurt, and my biggest fear was hurting Clara. I was still having a hard time each morning poking her finger tip to get a drop of blood for the monitor to test her sugar level; I would apologize profusely each time. Now I had to add an injection to my guilt. I took a deep breath, gently grabbed a fatty piece of her belly and gave the injection. When finished I sighed with relief and announced, “It’s done.” Ever so sweetly, Clara said, “You have a gentle touch, I didn’t even feel it.” I wasn’t sure if she was being truthful or not, but it gave me the confidence I needed for the evening shot and took a bit of the guilt away as to whether I was hurting her. That morning is when I realized my life took a drastic turn. Clara felt comfortable holding her cup of coffee and sipping it, but was afraid to feed herself. Again, it was a bit awkward to feed my mother-in-law like a toddler, but compassion was a good motivator to get me beyond myself. After feeding her and cleaning up the dishes, I went back to my portion of the house, but left the door open so I could easily hear Clara if she needed to yell for me.
