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caregiver challenges, caregiving, caregiving spouses, spousal caregiving

Caregiver’s Solution: An Empty Bird Feeder.

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One incentive to get up and about that Chris cannot resist is an empty bird feeder.  He feels about those birds like he feels about his children.

Here comes Scout, he says, as a lone little bird perches on the cedar bird feeder.  ‘Scout’ flits to one side, then the other.  Finding both empty, he cocks his head and looks straight at us.

We are sitting in the living room, Chris in his wing back chair, me on the sofa, observing this ritual through sliding glass doors.

Now he’s upset, Chris says.  And indeed, the bird pecks at the empty wooden floor of the bird house then turns to look at us again as if to say, Where’s my dinner?

When neither of us gets up, Scout pecks once more at the barren floor and then flies away in disgust.

I make no motion to get up and go to the bag of birdseed.

He’s telling the guys back home, forget it, they’re deadbeats, Chris says.  I chuckle and nod agreement.  A few minutes go by.

I guess we need to fill it up before he comes back or he’ll really be upset, Chris hints.

I guess so. I curl my legs under me on the sofa.

Finally Chris gets up, grunting and helping himself with the arms of his chair and his cane.  Unsteadily he makes his way to the bag of feed in the corner by the door.  He opens the door and manoeuvres clumsily through to the patio, then balancing himself without his cane, he lifts the roof of the birdhouse and pours in the seed.  It takes two trips before he is satisfied they will have enough for awhile.

By the time he returns the cup to the bag of seed for the last time, he is perspiring and leaning heavily on his cane.

Do you want to lie down now?  I ask, rising.

No.  I want to wait and see if those little beggars come back, he says grinning.  I help him sit.

Was it mean to make him do that?  I don’t know.  How can I know?

Was it harmful or dangerous for him to do that?  Again, I don’t know.

What I do know is that sitting for hours on end, lying in bed most of the day, is not good for the circulation.

And the doctor says, he needs to exercise.  And I have a feeling Scout would second that notion.

Yours truly

Margaret Jean.

caregiver helping preserve patient identity, caregiving, caregiving spouses, patient identity

Rice-Christians at the Bird Feeder, Caregiving at it’s Best.

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As his wife and now his caregiver I’ve always noted that Chris gets pleasure from simple things. One of these is old movies.

One of his favourites is Keys to the Kingdom, starring Gregory Peck.  When Peck, a priest, gets to his mission in China, he finds that he has no parish members.  He is told the people will only come if he gives them rice.  Peck stoutly replies that he doesn’t want any ‘rice-Christians’ in his mission.

These days another pleasure for Chris is the bird feeder.  We chose a little cedar model.  Then came the choice of birdseed.  It seemed expensive, but it was no mess and recommended, so we bought it.

I rigged the birdhouse up, put out the seed and waited.

The next day a single bird, brown and grey with some white markings, came and sat in the Japanese Maple next to the birdhouse.  After a thorough visual examination, he finally landed and began to peck at the seed.

He left not long after, much to Chris’ disappointment.  But later that day, Chris ventured out to the living room to have coffee.  Marg, Marg!  Come and see! he called.

Our ’Scout’ as we had dubbed him, had come back, bringing another with him.  Together they dined.

The next day they returned, and this time another bird with orange markings trailed along. There was some fluffing of feathers and a bit of pushing and shoving at the trough, but Scout held his ground.

In the end, they all ate to their contentment, more birds joining in, some taking sunflower seeds or peanut halves back into the branches of the maple tree to break down and eat.

Chris watched all this with interest.  It’s their hangout, he said proudly.

If I had wondered why Chris wanted a bird feeder, now I knew.  All his life, Chris has helped people: giving them jobs, helping them with housing, even going to the Sisters of Atonement and making sandwiches for the homeless.

Now that he’s infirm, none of that is possible.  But these small creatures, Scout and his friends, depend on him. That allows him to feel generous.  It lifts his spirits.

In May we were gone for two weeks.  We came back to an empty, abandoned bird feeder. We put feed out right away, early in the morning, but in spite of repeated checking, we saw no birds all day.  Chris came to the dinner table disappointed.

Rice Christians, Chris said, as he unfolded his napkin.  That’s what the little beggars are.  Rice Christians.

Yours truly,

Margaret Jean.