I Am A Dangerously Imperfect And Frightened Caregiver

Dear Nicholas,  Last night Bob forgot to take his blood pressure pills and I FORGOT TO REMIND HIM. Then today I may have made a drug sorting mistake.  Now I am one scared caregiver.

 

The Challenging Situation

In the last two years, Bob has had some little strokes and it’s very very important that he not have more. Though I usually manage the details of our lives, I am by nature a lousy bookkeeper and pathologically afraid of making any kind of damaging mistake.

Mistakes Are Not An Option

Bob says remembering pills is his job.  But I am the family rememberer. He has always called me our historian; he proudly makes a point of living in the moment, letting the past melt away.  By agreement, I am chief handler of schedules, finances, medical stuff, whether the dogs have been fed, etc.  I am at least supposed to be reliable back-up. Once upon a time, I did have a scary-good memory. Now at 75, I sometimes forget names. And apparently other things as well.

My Fault, My Fault!

About today’s medical confusion,  “I hope you’re not castigating yourself,” he says now from the kitchen table. I laugh (bitterly). “Not too likely, is it?” he says.

Of course I am castigating myself. I fear I have done him damage. I fear it will happen again.

And I am particularly vulnerable to such fears and guilt because the mental health meds I take are about 85% effective. Any degree of a caregiving situation is hard on a person with the brand of obsessive-compulsive disorder I have, which is scrupulosity: extreme fear of making mistakes, doing damage, committing sins. I also feel guilt about focusing in all this on myself.

The Wrong Kind Of Person?

But I was not built for keeping perfect track of things. My temperament is that of a novelist who writes  often about the supernatural, about fantastical things. Numbers scare me, because I might get them wrong. Also I often have trouble reading my own handwriting, So I have several deficits in the bookkeeping department. See my medical notes to the right. Bob has always said that at least I’m better at it than he is. And I have to agree with that. Neither of us are built for this.

The Stoic philosophy that I put some stock in suggests that this situation is giving me a chance to fully face and rid myself of scrupulosity.  On this, I echo Bob’s comment: “Not too likely, is it?”

Maniacally Careful

I thought I was being 100% scrupulously careful.  Still I make a mistake that could lead to worst-possible outcome. Keeping Bob with me and as healthy as possible is my main mission. I do love the guy and love our life together.

I wrote here long ago that if Bob dies before me, whatever the circumstances, it will be my fault. That was of course a slightly humorful exaggeration meant to show the perils of my scrupulosity.

The Present Moment

Right now I’m in a position where it’s crucial to get meds right and I’m clearly capable of error and so far not great at dealing with myself about this. Telling me not to kick myself doesn’t help. Telling me to be more careful doesn’t help. The thought of anybody else taking on the job is no good either.

As always, writing this calms me. (I also meditated twenty minutes before starting to write.)

I don’t know how to end this. So I’ll stop.

Peggy

 

 

 

 

 

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Tags: castigating, damaging mistake, dangerously imperfect, doing damage, frightened caregiver, g, get meds right, kick myself, making mistakes, maniacally careful, mental health meds, my fault, obsessive-compulsive disorder, scared caregiver, scrupulosity