Fresh tulips

Cyanotype Print 8 x 10 by Steffen Ries, Photography by Paul Knoll

Last week the community nurse came to our house. She comes every six months to check on how we are doing, especially my brother. 

While she is exceptionally compassionate and kind, the visits are very stressful. It is a bi-annual reminder that life unfolds differently in our house and that there are many pressures that sometimes get worse and other times get better. 

I want these kinds of assessments to go well and for them to be quick, so I put on my best “game face”. I dress nicely, put on make-up, clean the house and ensure my brother looks good. I greet the nurse full of cheer and welcome her into our home walking her past the table with the fresh tulips. 

As we run through the meeting it is easy for me to speak competently to the nurse, answering all her questions quickly and precisely. 

You see, I am on top of everything and have spent many years and I have put astonishing effort into setting up the right health care support for my brother. His teeth and feet are regularly cared for, his personal support workers keep on top of his physio and most days he gets some exercise. He has mental health care, kinesiology and body work. I know all his medication doses, his sleeping patterns, his various moods and can easily speak to his overall wellbeing. It is clear I love him and want him to be at his best. The nurse is, as usual, satisfied. 

The assessment is winding up and then comes the final question, “Are you angry and resentful?”. 

I can feel a weight on my chest begin to build. It is unbearable. I quietly respond “yes” behind a cascade of tears. 

The nurse looks right through me, she has seen me this whole time. She says quietly “You qualify for our distressed caregiver program.” 

I decline with many thanks and lead her to the door, the tears still falling. 

I wonder which caregiver is not distressed, it is a hard if not impossible job. Your love for the person you care for runs in direct conflict with the dreams you have of the life you want to live. 

I feel hurt and broken because despite all my experience and effort, I can’t resolve this conflict that pulls heavily in my heart. 

I usher her out the door, take a big breath and welcome the thought it is another six months before I will see her again.