Honestly Speaking

There comes a point in any relationship where the newness wears off... along with the niceties.

It happens in romantic relationships all the time.  After the honeymoon period (which can vary in length depending upon the two people involved) of being a new couple is over, no longer is one greeted with "I couldn't wait to see you tonight," or "I thought about you all day!"  Really?  ALL day?  Every second of every minute?

The same phenomenon occurs in friendships as well.  There is a "getting to know you" period where true thoughts are not always spoken out loud.  "You look absolutely awful in that color," may be what one of the friends wants to utter, but somehow it spills out as "You look awesome in that color!" 

It's okay to admit it.  I'm sure this has happened to everyone at one point or another in some type of budding connection.  Honesty is necessary for the relationship to blossom.  And genuine, heart-to-heart, cut-to-the-chase honesty is entirely essential for the relationship to grow and thrive.  

Of course, the truth can always be told in a kind and gentle way.  "That's a very nice outfit you're wearing, but I think blue is a better color for you than orange."

From personal experience, I can tell you that effective Caregiving is deeply rooted in relationship building, although it might not be as obvious in the early stages of getting to know a new person.  Or, on the other hand, it might be crystal clear.

Having been a Caregiver for many years, I always enter a new relationship quite cognizant of exactly what I am saying.  I don't want to be overly sugary, but let's be face it.  I want the person to at least like me!  If I'm going to be tending to their most private, personal needs, it's usually best that they feel comfortable around me!

In some Caregiving relationships, the process of "getting to know" each other flows rather quickly, especially when the person suffers from a Dementia related illness, with the tendency to say the same things over and over again.  

Even in that case, however, one can always dig deeper and learn more.  After all, look how rich and rewarding my relationship with "M" turned out to be!  Our relationship, although defined by the parameters of her short-term memory loss, most definitely grew in wonderful ways the more time we spent together!  I miss her terribly, but can't help smiling every time I see an airplane!

After almost ten months together, I can definitively state that "V" and I have entered that more honest, truthful phase of our relationship.  The newness has worn off, and the niceties, although still clearly evident due to "V"s inherently polite personality, are becoming more and more honest the more time I spend in her company.

For example, a few months ago, I discovered that she liked it when I put shredded mozzarella on her salad, along with my ever-so-carefully chopped tomatoes, cucumbers and olives.   Since my sickly looking bowl of lettuce always looks so naked except for the raisins (I just have to have them, even though "V" despises the shrunken little grapes), I decided to try some shredded mozzarella one evening.  Knowing that "V" likes cheese, I put some on her salad as well, and she told me that she liked the "white stuff" very much.

Is the "White Stuff" the right stuff?

But now, as our relationship has budded and blossomed, I am forced to wonder... Was she really telling the truth, or was she just being nice so as not to hurt my feelings?

The reason I am wondering that is simple.  The other night, I told "V" that I we were having pasta and meatballs for dinner.  Usually, I put a bowl of grated cheese on the side of her plate, right next to the salad with the shredded mozzarella that she likes so much.

Before I even began serving the meal, however, "V" called me to her side and said something that completely and utterly surprised me.

"Please," she told me with an earnestness that I had not heard in her voice before.  "No more cheese."

No more cheese?  Had I heard her correctly?  She had said months ago that she liked the shredded white stuff on top of her salad!  What had changed?  Surely not the mozzarella!

"Okay," I said, a bit taken aback.  Actually, my feelings were a bit hurt, an emotion that commonly begins to occur after the newness and niceties of a budding relationship start to wear off.  I didn't show "V" my this, of course, but deep inside, I felt like a bad Caregiver.  There I had been putting shredded white stuff on "V"s salad for months, all the time thinking she was enjoying the taste, when in reality it turned out that she perhaps she wasn't enjoying it after all!

I pondered the situation all throughout dinner, extremely careful not to show my disappointment as "V" and I engaged in our usual pleasant conversation.  

Afterwards, when "V" was relaxing in the living room and I was hidden away in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes, her words hit me even harder.  In fact, they rung in my brain like a church bell chiming.  Or like "V"s little antique clock that rang every hour on the hour.  Over and over and over... "Please... No more cheese."  "Please... No more cheese."  "Please... No more cheese."

My thoughts began to get a little crazy.  Was this the end of our relationship?  Was she going to ask me to leave because I wasn't a good enough Caregiver?  Where had I gone wrong?  What could I do differently?  How could I not have seen the signs that she was sick of cheese?  Did she even like cheese in the first place, or was she just "being nice" because we were developing a new relationship?

Luckily, I had long ago learned a phrase in a Twelve Step Program that I diligently attend that began to ring in my brain just as clearly as a church bell and as persistent as the hourly chimes of the little antique clock.

"How important is it?"  

If ever a slogan was more appropriate, it was this one!  I was tearing my insides apart over something so silly as cheese.  

Slowly, I began to see the situation more rationally.  It wasn't the end of the world that "V" didn't want mozzarella on her salad anymore!  This was something we could learn and grow from!  In fact, this was a wonderful turn of events!  "V" was being honest with me about her feelings.  It had finally happened!  We had reached the point in our Caregiving relationship where she felt comfortable enough with me to tell me the truth.  She didn't want anymore cheese!

My disappointment quickly turned to delight.  I wanted to shout out the front door, for all the world to hear, "She doesn't want anymore cheese!!!"  This, of course, would surely define me as more than a "little" crazy, and I certainly didn't want the neighbors thinking there was an insane woman caring for the elderly woman next door.  How would I ever be able to explain the cheese thing to the authorities when they came to take me away?

When my crazy thoughts at last evened out over the rest of the evening, I felt a great satisfaction inside.  "V" was now able to speak honestly to me.  If she could tell me that she didn't want anymore cheese, then perhaps she could tell me other things that would make me better able to meet her needs.  Our relationship was no longer in the "Honeymoon" phase.  "V" had begun to trust me enough to state her true feelings, even if it meant hurting mine a bit.  This was a good thing!  A great thing!  A giant hurdle, one that so often stands in the way of the success or failure of many a relationship, had been jumped by me and "V".  "V" and me?   Who cares?  We had landed safely! 

I again felt like shouting out the front door, but was able to contain my emotions much more quickly.

Solidifying the new phase of our relationship, a similar situation occurred the very next week when I was getting "V" ready for breakfast.  We were going to have our usual oatmeal made with milk (mine would be instant made with water... and including raisins!), half a glass of orange juice, one slice of buttered toast and coffee.  Just three quarters of a cup. 

Before I even started the breakfast preparation, "V" motioned me closer to her.  She hadn't even gotten to putting her hearing aids in yet, so I figured that whatever she was going to tell me must be especially important.  This was so special.  How nice to be at the point of a relationship where you could speak honestly and openly with each other without worrying about hurting the other person's feelings.  

"Make sure you don't serve the coffee too early," "V" told me.  "You've been giving it to me too soon, and it's been cold."  OUCH!!!  That wasn't what I expected to hear at all!  And as if insult upon injury wasn't enough, "V" added, "I like my coffee hot!"

Was I hearing things correctly?  Maybe I was the one that needed the hearing aids!  Had "V" just told me in no uncertain terms that for ten months I've been serving her coffee too soon, and she'd been drinking it cold?  

Coffee in Bloom

After my initial shock at hearing the painful truth wore off, I thought that I must be the worst Caregiver in the whole world!  Here I was, eagerly trying to meet all of "V"s needs so that she could lead a comfortable, content life in her own home, and I had been starting off her day with cold coffee!!!  For almost a year!!!  Instead of shouting out the door, I wanted to crawl under the bed and hide so that no one would know what a HORRIBLE Caregiver I had been!

I helped "V" to the dining room table and began to get breakfast ready, overly conscientious about when to serve the coffee.  Should I serve it with the orange juice, so that all the beverages were on the table at once?  Perhaps I should put it out with the oatmeal, so that the two hottest things would be ready at one time.  Or maybe it should come out later, with the buttered toast?  Or maybe even after all the food was finished, so it could be savored by itself, nice and hot, the way "V" liked it?

What a dilemma!  I didn't know what to do with the darned coffee!  I just wanted "V" to have it the way she liked it... hot!!!

It was time for a deep breath and another recitation of the phrase "How Important Is It?"  I was dealing with a three quarters of a cup of coffee, not a high clearance top security government crisis!!!

Finally, rationality set in, and I realized how much courage it must have taken "V" to start speaking to me honestly about what she wants and doesn't want.  Here is a woman who has spent ninety-six years being courteous, considerate and catering to other peoples' needs.   A dutiful daughter.  A loyal and loving wife.  A devoted mother.  A reliable sibling.  A faithful friend.  A there-when-you-need-her grandmother.  And great-grandmother!

It suddenly dawned on me that "V" didn't want to hurt my feelings any more than I wanted to not satisfy her needs. 

For months, we had been dancing around each other, like people in a new relationship exchanging all the proper niceties.  A delicate balancing act.  Carefully trying to get to know the other person's needs and wants so that they could be properly met.  And even more carefully trying to avoid saying or doing the wrong thing so as not to offend the other person in any way.  Because you want the relationship to work!  To be successful and fulfilling and comfortable and even fun!  Just like a romantic relationship.  Or a friendship.  Or any other kind of relationship a person may find themselves involved in!  So that the other person trusts you enough to be able to speak openly and honestly with you, without fear of damaging the relationship in any way.

With Caregiving, it is definitely a delicate balancing act!  The entire relationship is contingent upon the ability of the person being cared for to speak honestly with the person who is caring for them... even if it means hurting the Caregiver's feelings a little bit.

Because after all, how important is it?  No relationship is worth giving up on just because one of the parties doesn't want cheese anymore, or because the coffee isn't hot enough.

"V" and I are now at a very healthy point in our relationship, and I look forward to it continuing to bud, blossom, grow and thrive!!!

FULL BLOOM!!!