I had my head in the sand, but I didn't know then what I know now. I had good friends caring for a loved one traversing life-threatening illness, but it wasn't until I found myself in their shoes did I truly understand just how challenging caregiving is.

In the past year I have found myself a regular visitor to the emergency department. Being the primary daughter for aging parents, I caught a glimpse of my worried look in a mirror. There is balancing act in caregiving, allowing autonomy while being an advocate, rather than being a control freak.

It's hard to watch the people we love struggle. But I found it even harder to listen deeply to a life altering conversation and to keep my mouth shut, until the appropriate time.

As my husband says, I got sick, not stupid! Allowing the communication between Doctor and patient to continue unimpeded is patient empowering. And even though we are a team and I had burning questions, I had to remain quiet and allow the patient first dibs at enquiry.

This difficulty in silence drew my awareness to how out of control I was feeling. What to do about and how to handle this disturbed inner energy. The need to be supportive and at the same time to understand medical terms, conditions, outcomes and variables that were mostly out of our control. Then understanding that when one is not well, or is frightened, overwhelmed, tired and just feeling horrible, that their thinking can be unclear. And there is so much information to absorb, that an extra pair of ears could be valuable.

This brings in the power of being present. When we feel frightened ourselves, how can we be the advocate we wish to be. It takes life skills in being present and that for me starts with breath. Making sure I'm breathing and then slowing my breath down.

This action alone can reduce stress and engage the parasympathetic nervous system so we can relax and think more clearly.

And I believe in the power of advocates, but the advocate requires emotional discipline and holds the wishes of the patient in the highest regard. A patient wants an advocate on our side, supporting, listening, asking the right questions and rallying around us when we are not at our best. But what happens when we advocate for a parent of a spouce and our heart is breaking, when we may also feel in control. What tools are available to the care giver or advocate then?

Self care is a good place to begin. Proper rest, sleep, nutrition. Keep emotions level by making notes, asking questions, planning scheduling, defining terms, organizing prescriptions; all cognitive functions; that settle emotions because our attention ion cognitive functions; and these processes take place in our neo-cortex.

When all possible stay out of the fear zone. harder to do without some key life skills for reducing stress.

I recall one of my first ER visits resulted because my dad had collapsed. We raced to the ER and braced ourselves for what seemed probable; watching the heart monitor that confirmed my father's heartbeat lagging 23, 22, 23, 21.

Doctors and nurses buzzed around the room, and we were informed that a helicopter ride and a pace maker was the best outcome. As the sound of the helicopter blades faded away, we settled into the knowledge that there was nothing more we could do that night. Rising the next morning at 5, we jumped in the car and headed for the ferry that would lead to Vancouver and onward to the hospital. My sister and I merged from opposite directions, and a mear 24 hours later, we were all eating dinner at the table surrounded by friends.

It might seem easy, but for months following that stressful event I found my hair everywhere. The stress had been very real and I needed to consider how better I could have managed my own emotional state. The next chance was already tuning in.

One month later, I had been to ER three times with Mom and another for my Dad, and I was becoming familiar with the drill.

Looking back, I know this experience began to prepare my brain and up level my stamina for what was on the horizon. I would soon require a well of life skills and resilience from the moment my husband's pancreatic cancer diagnosis appeared.

Picture a deep well filled with murky water, a compressed chest and difficulty breathing. Our harmonious life had just collapsed, and the force knocked us sideways.

I felt out of control, grief stricken, numb and stressed, exhausted and sleepless at the same time. The only thing to do was to keep doing. What ever I could, clean the floors, do the laundry, even if it was clean. Add in all the dozens of things around the home that he used to do. Work was not in short supply.

Sunrise broke through my eyelids, and the realization of a changed world would enter my mind. Fear and grief filled every cell, I felt anxiety all day, afternoon and night. I knew I needed to be present and that meant getting myself together.

Daily, I worked on myself, meditated, walked, cried, watched comedies, practiced gratitude, held on tight. Around and through, I cycled through practices I had practiced and taught for years. And grace appeared inside a quiet mind. What I desperately needed now was to remain focused and keep my eye on the desired outcome.

There was no doubt we had entered a long and arduous journey. I felt like we were at base camp and there was a very steep and dangerously precarious path ahead. One that I couldn't yet see. And truthfully I needed faith because the road ahead terrified me. To lose the person I have spent more of my life with, was unthinkable, and yet we all know that this could be the reality.

Every day was like the weather, different. One day I would get a flash of positivity and grasp for it only to feel it disappear again. Then, I would hear hope calming my panic, as the ground beneath crumbled.

Some days felt like I was tumbling in an avalanche and I could get my footing or a breath of air.

Today, I have a glimpse into what it is like to be a caregiver, but before, my perception was shallow, my voice and judgement undeniably inexperienced. I really had no concept.

Within my pain, there is so much gratitude for those who support us every day. Gratitude for our health team, and for the knowledge we do have choices available for us. But the greatest gift I have learned to date is a deeper empathy for those that travel this road with me, that have endured the pain before me, and for those who may one day find themselves in my shoes.

What I offer is strength, support, and comfort. The tools of neuroscience steadied my nerves. Self care and mindfulness add resilience. And if we know the ontological outcome, we desire for ourselves, we can cultivate our wellbeing and those we serve.

web: https://www.lifecoachadele.com

Connect with me for a conversation: https://live.vcita.com/site/pj6nd2nw1oky5ogs/online-scheduling?service=uf3n8209n8wavo1u

Recieve stress relief: https://live.vcita.com/site/pj6nd2nw1oky5ogs/online-scheduling?service=b27vg9mv55qcwgn8

On a previous episode with Anne Crook we talked about holding space for someone moving through challenge as either a care giver or for them selves: https://directory.libsyn.com/episode/index/id/17465483

Can we really have empathy without having experience?