Tag Archives: Life

So, What’s All This About Self-Quarantine?

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Not Good at Social Distancing

Not Good at Social Distancing

Not much has changed for me. Just the added pressure to keep my Loved One out of the hospital. I’ve been trying for weeks to get our beloved GP to establish a plan to set up an antibiotic IV at home, but I keep being put off. I called last week to impress upon them that the time is NOW. We can’t wait until Loved One is ill again to start talking about it. I have a home health company involved in Loved One’s care and they’ve confirmed they could arrange for the IV but it would require an order from the GP and yet… I get nothing. Nothing from them. Up to now they’ve been great, but it seems like this ask is too big.

And then I do get answers. And it’s No because Loved One would need a pick line and that requires a trip to the hospital and so, what’s the point?

Then another call—I have the doctors brainstorming now—maybe we could give Loved One antibiotic injections once every eight hours—IF I’m willing to learn how. Sigh. Of course I am. But, oy. I’m an arteest! Not a nurse. But nurses are in short supply during The Virus. And Medicare would never pay for a once-every-eight-hours visit anyway. Even if it keeps Love One out of the ER/hospital bed in the middle of a pandemic.

Meanwhile, it’s funny reading the agonies of all those humans suddenly quarantined, their whole busy exterior lives coming to a halt. But there’s a joke among caregivers—Welcome to our world! We go nowhere—but medical appointments—even pre-COVID-19.

So, yeah, nothing has changed. Oh, except my husband is working from home. He hates it. What’s wrong with that man? And I promise we’re leaving him alone, even while this place is teaming with CNAs, PTs, home health nurses. We’re going to install a revolving door. Yesterday one of these folks did a headcount to make sure we were under the current limit of ten people in one place. We had eight. So much for social distancing.

Of course, our main goal IS to protect Loved One so we’ve done some rearranging of CNAs to consolidate their shifts and I’ve canceled or been canceled for other things. So, yeah, we’re staying put—with our without The Virus—it’s all the same.

How about you?

The Requisite New Year Post

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Burning Midnight Oil

Burning Midnight Oil

Little has changed since my last post. Caregiving continues. The Day Job sputters. But I now rise at 2am—allowing myself three hours to work on my eternal novel project undisturbed. Or, mostly undisturbed. There’s always the cat.

I know it sounds crazy but that part of every day is mine. I plot out my schedule so I can be in bed early and not sabotage the tea and solitude with sleep. Every other hour I am running from task to task trying to keep loved ones fed, medicated, transported and comfortable.

It’s a strange role for me. I’ve never had kids so being responsible for others at this level is terrifying at times. And this path takes only one direction—from heartache to heartache.

But you have to find a place where you can set it all aside and still be you—if only just clinging to one tiny thread. If you can’t or don’t, you’ll diminish to the point of disappearing. And no longer be the fighter that your loved ones depend on.

____

See can what I’m working on via my writing blog:  LDavisCarpenter.com

 

The Caregiving Journey

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The day job is slow. The caregiving is not. It’s an all-consuming and isolating phase of life. Your world closes in. You go nowhere. You turn down every social invitation until they no longer ask—and that’s a relief. You scroll past the Facebook posts of the rest of humanity going by amazed that people get on with their lives. And yet it is on Facebook that you also find your current tribe. Groups for caregivers—many of them with much more dire situations—which either make you feel not quite so sorry for yourself, or guilty that you’re even tired when compared to the challenges of others. Here are people who understand you now—better than your closest friends. It’s odd, even surreal that you feel more in common with strangers than with those around you. You’re committed to it—because it’s the right thing to do and you love your loved one who is suffering so much more than you can imagine. But you wonder what you’ll have left when it’s over—when you’ve given your all—poured into the black hole that is dementia—the incurable, one-way street.

The Close Calling: Caregiving

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Are you called to feeding the hungry in a distant land?

Or your own family member?

Are you willing to hide away in obscurity and do what’s needed in the closet? Things that don’t make newsletters and fundraising splashes?

Can you set aside the big dreams of “making a difference” in order to ease the burden of the one closest to you?

Many of you are tucked away, feeling forgotten, wondering what became of your plans.

Take courage.

What you do today, every day, has the same eternal significance as the thing you meant to do. The Lord sees the widow’s mite, the prayer in secret, the cup of water to the child.

Have faith, believe on Him.

Flash Memoir

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Photo on Foter.com

The paying gig has been slow this quarter but family needs have taken up all slack. As a result, my big goal for completing a second draft of my novel by the end of June is pretty much DOA. This week I am finishing up some unpleasant tasks (read: 2018 taxes) and other odds and ends with a view to getting back to The Book by next Monday.

In the meantime, I have been toying with flash memoir to hone my writing skills. As long as I am slogging through the construction phases of my Main Project, I don’t get the chance to put much practice into word crafting. I hope that by drilling down on these very short pieces, I will be more prepared when my longer works are ready for the final polishing.

I’ve written more about this on my writing blog here.

My first two flash memoir items are here and here.

 

 

 

Working From Home

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work to do - small

We never know what change is coming at us.

Two months after my last post, Hurricane Matthew looked like he was going to grind up the entire Florida coast as a Cat 4. I dashed away from my out-of-town gig to rush home and evacuate my parents. Two hours into my five hour drive south I got a call from my boss saying, sorry, but we’re going to have to replace you immediately. We’ll get you back in here ASAP once your family responsibilities are complete. I said, OK, no problem. This is life as a storm adjuster who also lives in a hurricane prone state.

Can’t be everywhere at once.

One hour later – still rushing south – phone rings again. Different company asking me if I am available to lead an in-office storm team – right in my own home town! Oh, yes! How’s that for timing? Maybe God is in control?

That gig didn’t last long but segued into another also in my home town. Whew. Good thing too because by then I needed to attend all parental medical appointments, etc. Working out of town is no longer an option.

Fast forward one year. Hurricane Irma is coming and another out-of-the-blue call – offering me to:

WORK FROM HOME! 

Woot!!! Woot!!! World’s Biggest Woot!

The hours were brutal but completely flexible – allowing me to work as much as 77 hours/week while still getting my parents to appointments and walking their new dog. (Hah, that’s another post).

But, after ten months of that pace, I’d had enough. I took the slower summer season as the chance to change my Day Job. We’d been praying that this opportunity would come and it did. Same industry, different role. Still work from home. Still completely flexible hours – just a lot less of them and less emotionally draining.

I LOVE my Day Job!

And, since work is slow right now, I am still catching up on all sorts of things that were neglected: INCLUDING MY NOVEL! (See my writing blog update HERE.)

FIRST DRAFT = DONE!

 It’s been two+ years of hard work and sudden changes. I am thankful for the grace of God which continues to strengthen me for each step and allows me to face the future with peace – having seen His hand so clearly at work in the past.

2019 is going to be challenging in endless ways but when I can make myself stop and remember His past blessings, I can face the next round of the whirlwind.

Early Bird Efforts

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Mr. Grackle in snow –  Picture by: Lausanne Davis Carpenter

The best remedy for surviving a twelve-hour day in cubicle-land is to spend my early mornings on my own goals. I have posted on LDavisCarpenter about the challenges of writing historical fiction and am starting a Flash Memoir side-project while chipping away at my novel.
 

I am reasonably confident in my non-fiction abilities but creative writing is – whew. I know how long it takes to develop any new skill so I want to use my life experiences as material for word-crafting practice – before I am faced with final edits of my long fiction. Flash Memoir seems like a good choice for distilling memories into words that transport a reader to another’s time, place, thoughts and senses. I also think it will be fun to capture snippets of my own crazy life in this form.

 

Meanwhile, you can see last summer’s mural on the Marsh Hawk Studio blog. I still plan to do a process post showing the steps to creating it but those pictures are on my other laptop which an Office update recently corrupted and can no longer access the internet. (Yes, thank you very much.) I will soon update the Long Ago & Far Away blog with notes on Conn Iggulden’s Genghis Khan series.

 

If I can ever get my blogs up to date AND have a day off – I’ll be back to writing my novel.



***About Mr. Grackle – just a fellow at my feeder on a snowy morning back in VA. Those eyes look like I feel most mornings before tea.

Writing and Responsibility

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desk and candle

There’s a certain martyr’s pride we risk when forcing ourselves out of bed in the wee hours to get our writing done.

I’m back to the Day Job – the traffic, the hours (the paycheck! old friends! new friends!) Thankfully, this time I have a shorter commute which is allowing me to find a few minutes in the morning to think about writing. So far I’ve managed to read some research material and scribble a couple of posts on my writing blog.

I could get up even earlier but, working six or seven long days every week, less sleep would reduce my ability to help the people who depend on me at the office. They depend on me for training in order to stay in their assignments as long as possible. But, my sense of responsibility goes beyond their urgent questions. My employer depends on me to keep our people in their roles because that’s the core of our business. Our client depends on our people to serve their customers well, in support of their brand. Those customers depend on our people to be professional and accurate during their time of need and sometimes great stress. And, my people have others in their lives depending on them to bring home a paycheck.

I owe them all seven hours of sleep every night.

Dickens-at-the-Blacking-Warehouse