Saturday 11 December 2010

Accepting a New Role.

I mentioned in an earlier post that I occasionally get called next door to help the elderly, disabled man who lives there. Last night he called at 9.45 and asked me to help him get out of his armchair and into his stairlift. He said he felt too weak to stand on his own and needed a hand so he could go to bed. Tonight I got another call from his daughter who lives fifty miles away in Manchester. He’d called her to say he had the same problem and needed my help again. His daughter was very apologetic about asking, as she always is when she has to call on me for assistance.

This is something I’ve never had to do before, and it’s caused me to examine my reaction to it. If I’m to be fully honest, I have to admit that it irritates me. I’m a private and relatively solitary individual. I do my own thing my own way. I hate having other people direct my activities, I hate having my space invaded, and I hate having my time imposed upon. That’s a flaw in my nature. I don’t give freely enough of myself at the behest of others.

At first I rationalised this new-found obligation by seeing it from Fred’s point of view. He’s had two strokes and suffers a raft of other debilitating conditions that require the attendance of paid carers and a bucketful of medications. He can no longer walk without assistance and is unable to read as a result of the stroke. He sits in his armchair all day listening to music and watching the TV, but he insists on living in his own house so he can have a measure of independence. Frankly, he doesn’t have much of a life. If I can give him a hand to live independently, it really isn’t asking that much, is it?

Now I’ve thought some more and see another angle. In the days before the advent of social services departments and care homes, the elderly and infirm were cared for by their friends, family and neighbours. It doesn’t happen much these days; people are too wrapped up in their individual lives, and I suppose I’m an obvious example of that. The fact that I’ve never had to do anything like this now strikes me as a gap in my education. Maybe it’s about time that gap was exposed; it’s something life has a habit of doing.

Don’t think for a moment that I’m blowing my own trumpet here. Far from it. I’m admitting to something I’m not proud of, and simply passing on the information by way of examining one small facet of the human condition. If I were as generous with my time as I feel we all should be, it wouldn’t even occur to me that there was any issue to be addressed, would it?

3 comments:

Wendy said...

Personally, I would feel the same irritation and almost an "oh-oh" feeling about feeling obligated to help an elderly neighbor. You have every right to feel this way and to accept the fact that you can talk to the daughter and tell her that you can always be at the beck and call of her father. It's not your job to do it. Once in a while, is fair enough but if you keep helping him because of some moral "should and shouldn't" you'll end up resenting him and feeling even less inclined to help him.

JJ said...

They're good people, though Wendy. The daughter and son-in-law pull out all the stops to get him as much professional help and equipment as they can. And Fred himself feels guilty about calling on my assistance. He only calls me when there's no other option, which is usually during the 12-13 hours between the visits of his evening and morning carers. I just feel that life sometimes gives you tasks to perform. Maybe even tests.

winschod said...

Thanks for sharing, it was interesting to read!