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| The Electrolux Vaccum (It really DOES do everything!) |
Every now and then, a caregiving experience occurs completely out of the blue!
That's exactly hat happened to me yesterday afternoon!
It involves a person I had never met before (I'll refer to her as Alma, since she refers to me as Bernadette) and a gadget I had never used before (the extremely popular Electrolux vacuum).
Here's how the situation unfolded...
It is two days before Christmas, and I am between caregiving assignments with "V" (with whom I will happily be spending part of the holiday).
Caregivers are frequently advised to "take care of themselves," and this is an area I admittedly struggle with immensely.
With all my Christmas shopping wrapped up, I decided to go see a movie at the local $3.00 theater (Yes. You read that correctly... a $3.00 theater! $2.00 on Tuesdays! They show recent films that are just about to be released on DVD, and are very popular with people like myself who like to see a movie in a traditional atmosphere).
I didn't even know what I was going to see, but all of the films start around the same time, so I headed out in the early afternoon towards the dreaded mall area, allowing myself plenty of time to navigate the last minute shopping holiday traffic.
The slightly suburban area I live in has a typical strip of road lined with various retail stores, assorted restaurants, and, of course, "the Mall." The movie theater I was headed for is, unfortunately, right in the center of this strip. Luckily, my mobile home is located in a part of the county that is more rural, complete with quaint country roads dotted with old barns and horse farms. Whenever I have to head toward the dreaded mall area, I take solace in the fact that I can enjoy these beautiful back roads.
About halfway through my drive, I received a phone call from an unknown number, so I pulled over to investigate further (and not get a ticket!). Whenever I receive a call from an unknown number, I always answer it in a guarded manner, in case it is some kind of solicitor trying to convince me to purchase a product or service that I simply do not want.
Guardedly, I answered the phone with a low-toned query, "Hello?"
"Can you help me vacuum my living room so I can put up my Christmas decorations?" I could tell that the voice was that of an older woman, someone I had never heard before.
A bit taken aback, I politely asked who was on the line.
"Oh. I'm Alma. My son-in-law gave me your name and said you could help me vacuum my living room so I can put up my Christmas decorations."
Recognition began to set in. The son-in-law is the owner of the mobile home park I live in, and in a recent discussion about my job as a caregiver, I had given him my phone number. As is commonly the case, he said that he had several older members in his family who might need my services.
"Can you help me?" the woman asked, a sense of urgency in her voice.
"Sure I can," I replied, completely unsure of what I was getting myself into. "When do you need help?" was the next logical question, so I asked it.
"Can you come now?" The sense of urgency sounded even more serious.
"Well..." I hesitated, not wanting to commit myself to a new assignment without first meeting the woman, which is generally the way I begin any case. Kind of like a getting-to-know-you visit to see if me and the potential caregiveree (I know it's not a word, but the purpose of my blog, it should be!) are compatible.
"Oh what the heck!" I thought to myself. It's the holiday season. The $3.00 theater and the second run movie will be there another day. Plus, I still wasn't sure which film I wanted to see.
"Sure I can help you," the words tumbled out of my mouth quicker than anticipated. "Where do you live?" Again, the next logical question.
Let me preface the next part of the story by saying that I do not believe that there are any coincidences in life. At the half century mark, I have been around long enough to learn that everything happens for a reason, even if I don't quite know what it is at the time. Eventually, sometimes sooner and sometimes later, (frequently much later), the reason becomes crystal clear. Ohhhhhhhhh! That's why that happened! If I hadn't have experienced a certain event (often times a painful loss), then I wouldn't have been ready to experience the subsequent situation (often times, a joyful new beginning!). After all, this is exactly what had happened in my life over the past year. If "M" had not moved to Florida, where she now has a local caregiving team, I would not have been able to work with "V", who is a sheer delight! See? One door closes and another one opens.
As luck (or fate) would have it, the woman just happened to live about five minutes from where I had pulled over to take the phone call.
And that's how I ended up in Alma's kitchen yesterday afternoon, where she greeted me with a cup of coffee and "stale" bread that was anything but stale! Talk about delicious! What a treat!
We chatted a little, a brief getting-to-know-you period, and Alma told me about how her mobility had diminished significantly over the past three months. I was unclear about the whys, but I could definitely see the results. Alma, who had also suffered a stroke several years ago, was seriously struggling to get around the first floor of her home with a walker and a cane. She pointed to her legs, swollen and painful-looking, and told me that as much as she wanted to, she simply wasn't able to do the things that she used to do. My heart went out to her, as this was the same situation that was going on with "V".
"Christmas is in two days and I haven't even vacuumed my living room or put the decorations out," Alma told me. Seeing her physical limitations in person, I began to understand why the sense of urgency in her voice during our initial phone contact made complete sense.
Without a second thought, and also without seeing the living room, I agreed to help Alma for a "few hours."
"I just need you to help vacuum the living room and put up some Christmas decorations," Alma explained as she led me to the area I would be working in.
SHOCK! Sheer and sudden! That's the only way I can describe how I felt when I saw the device with which I would be vacuuming the pristine looking living room (that didn't even appear to need any vacuuming!)
"It's an Electrolux," Alma told me proudly. "I've had it for years! It can do anything!"
Excitedly, and much too quickly, Alma showed me all the attachments, and explained which one I should use on each different surface. "This one is for the furniture. This one is for the lamp shades. This one is for the bricks on the fireplace. This one is for the corners of the room. This one is for the stairs. This one is for the carpet..."
One more time, please, and a bit slower! I was amazed at how adept Alma was at switching the assortment of attachments that accompanied the vacuum! Panic began to creep into my body as I watched Alma's quick movements. How would I ever be able to operate this "thing"? I desperately wanted to help her, but I also wanted to do the job right! The quality of my work is very important to me, as well as the satisfaction of the people I work with! Simply said, I didn't want to screw this up!
"I'll be in the other room if you need me," Alma said, disappearing around a corner.
And there I was. Left alone with the Electrolux that supposedly does everything. I'm not a big fan of modern electronic devices, but how I wished that I could just tell the "thing" what to do, and have it complete the project, no questions asked.
"Well," I reasoned to myself. "There must be a reason I was meant to be in Alma's living room learning how to use an Electrolux today."
With a great trepidation, I began the task at hand, talking myself through every step.
"Okay. This gadget goes here, and this gizmo goes there..." I diligently made my way through all the things Alma had asked me to do. The furniture. The lamp shades. The bricks on the fireplace. The corners of the room. The stairs. The carpet.
I was sort of proud of myself when I had finished, and I called Alma into the room.
Her reply was in no way what I expected to hear!
"Are you sure you vacuumed in here?" she questioned me. "It still looks dirty!"
A bit shocked at her response, I recalled how pristine the living room had looked to begin with.
"I did everything you asked me to do," I answered, definitely taken aback by her response.
"The pillows need fluffing! Did you vacuum the pillows? They need to be fluffier!"
I looked around the living room again and noticed two little pink pillows on one of the chairs. The chair was adjacent to the front window, and there was an empty glass on the end table next to it. I had assumed that this was Alma's sitting chair, thus leaving the two little pink pillows untouched. I wanted everything to look exactly the way it had before I started, including the two little pink pillows.
"And the glass!" Alma continued. "You didn't put the glass in the kitchen!"
I didn't know what to say, but I knew I had to say something. In a desperate attempt to justify the unmoved glass, which I hadn't even noticed, and the two un-fluffed little pink pillows, which had appeared perfectly fluffed to me, I explained to Alma that I didn't want to disturb any of her personal items and I had tried to keep everything the same as before.
"Okay. Okay," she said, moving on to the next cleaning task.
The next cleaning task? I thought I was just vacuuming the living room.
"Go to the kitchen and get the paper towels and the glass cleaner under the sink," she instructed me, and I hurriedly obeyed, wanting to make sure she was satisfied with my work.
Towels and spray bottle in hand, I returned to the living room, where Alma instructed me on how to clean the large front windows.
"Now this is something I knew how to do, I thought confidently. Spray the cleaner. Wipe the windows.
"I'll be in the other room if you need me, "Alma said, again disappearing around the corner.
Quite frankly, I have to say that those windows looked perfectly clean before I sprayed them down and wiped them clear. But in spite of my perception, I began to consider Alma's perception. She had always completed certain cleaning tasks in a particular order right before the holidays. And this year, because of her physical limitations, she was unable to do these tasks independently. Plus, this was the first time she had to ask for help. I thought about how I would feel in that same situation, and realized how frustrating this must be for her. Compassion suddenly replaced the confusion that had been swirling around in my head.
The rest of the afternoon flew by as I happily did everything that Alma asked me to do. I dusted the furniture. I wiped down all of the family photographs. I followed her slowly as she literally crawled up the staircase to the unused second floor of the home, where the Christmas decorations were kept in her daughters' old bedroom.
At times, Alma's breathing was quite heavy and a bit staggered. It was evident that the exertion of getting to the second story was a strenuous effort for her.
As Alma and I sorted through the Christmas decorations, with her sitting on one of the twin beds in her daughters' old bedroom and I gathering the different bags and boxes she pointed to, I noticed that the urgency had left her voice. She began to slow down, happily telling me stories of Christmas' past spent in the company of her late husband and three (now grown) children. There was great pride, and love, in her voice, and I could literally feel just how much each decoration meant to her.
With the utmost care, I carried each decoration down the stairs to the living room. After about ten trips (at least it felt like ten!), all of the boxes and bags had been moved, and Alma slowly worked her way down the staircase, with me following close behind to ensure her safety.
As it grew darker outside, Alma sat in her chair (the one with the now fluffed and vacuumed little pink pillows) and allowed me the pleasure of decorating the little Christmas tree that we had found, put together, and placed on an antique table in front of the immaculate front picture window (after I gingerly removed the giant lamp and placed it in the proper corner of Alma's bedroom, of course). First the lights. White ones interspersed with a few colored bulbs, as directed. Then the little ornaments, placed exactly where Alma told me to place them. And finally, a single strand of garland, which I managed to wrap around the tree "Perfectly!" according to Alma. (Yay me!!!)
"It's beautiful!" Alma exclaimed, very much satisfied with the results. "Now everyone can see that I have my little Christmas tree up and decorated, just as usual!"
"It is beautiful," I replied sincerely. "I might just go home and redecorate my own tree!" I told Alma, and she laughed, so much more relaxed and content then when I had first arrived.
"Just vacuum up the sparkles from the tree that fell on the kitchen floor," Alma told me, "then you can go."
I gladly vacuumed up every single sparkle. And I didn't even worry about which Electrolux attachment to use. I had a feeling that whatever one I chose would be just right.
The two hour assignment had turned into four hours, but that was fine with me. My afternoon with Alma had turned out to be an unexpected holiday gift, bringing both of us great joy, pleasure, and companionship. Our new friendship was confirmed when Alma uttered the next sentence.
"After the holidays," Alma added as I was leaving, "We'll work on the drapes!"
My heart sank just a bit. Drapes? I don't know anything about drapes!
"By the way," Alma called out after me, "If you don't know anything abut drapes, I'll teach you."
Standing in Alma's driveway, I snapped a picture of her little Christmas tree as it appeared through the immaculately clean front window of her home. Blurriness of the photo aside (night photography with my new Samsung phone is another area I need to improve upon), I have to admit that my afternoon with Alma was a complete and utter delight!
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You just never know what unexpected pleasure may be waiting around the corner, so keep your eyes (and mind) open, and enjoy the holiday season!
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