Many Hats

I have the most rewarding, enjoyable, hardest, most frustrating, irritating, and consuming jobs on the planet... But one is ore important than any of the others.

I'm one of those work-at-home folks who wears many hats. I have my fingers in many pots. I'm an author, a freelancewriter, an illustrator, a creator, and a children's minister.

But I'm not going to talk about any of those jobs today.

I"m going to talk about the one that takes priority over them all.

I am a caregiver.

Now, wait! Before you roll your eyes, sigh and click to the next post, take a minute to consider what that means.

Giving care. Putting their needs above other things. Putting their needs above most things.

My job has two main parts -- two main people.

My husband and my grandson.

My husband ~

We're going to call my guy 'Bear'. It suits him. He's gruff and sometimes too grumpy and he tends to hibernate when he's in pain. And he's in pain quite often.

I've never known my husband pain-free. Injured in an accident while in the service during the Viet Nam era, he's struggled with it all of his adult life. It's caused issue and problems, but he's always worked through it. He's struggled and forced himself to maintain. He's been admired and cherished by our family and he desreves it.

But 2017 changed everything. And 2018 made it worse.

Within nine months, Bear was physically devistated. It started iwth heart attacks and surgery to insert stints in uncooperative arteries. Within a few weeks, that was followe dby the discovery of cancer. Treatment pushed that out of our wheelhouse and we were ready to return to normal. What a delightful idea!

But the shaking in hsi hands wouldn't stop...

And we heard the words 'Parkinson's Disease'.

I still write and illustrate, compose and create. I still love working with kids in our neighborhood and our church. But htose jobs are interspersed with visits to our room, trips and phone calls to doctors, preparing separate meals for him and me, and dealingi wth falls and fears. This man, who was never afraid of anything before, dreads the beginning of each new day. It's hard to be brave when you can't sleep at night due to shaakes.

Sometimes it's tough for me, too. But the promise I made was 'better or worse'. I figure this is just the other side of that 'better' part.

And my grandson ~

He's always been amazing, always marched to his own drum.

But by the time he was three-years-old, his mom - y daughter - was looking up symptoms and trying to figure out why her little blond-headed guy, the thrid of for children, wasn't thriving, wasn't developing like the others.

She found Autism on some webpage and began to read ... and read ... and read. She made a suggested diagnosis long before the specialist confirmed.

By six, our little man had his first operation to repair a digestive tract issue. Now, six more years later, he still deals with the after-effects. He may always have to.

But it's the Autism that sets him apart and gives him the most trouble.

And, since his mom works three nights every week, he stays iwth us.

It's a challenge. Caring for our little man is consuming, exhausting and sometimes so irritating that I doubt my ability to continue.

We squabble over homework, bathing, cell phones, friends, lack of friends... I listen to hours of YouTube every month. We walk the dog together, we play Skipbo. We've written a book together and, while his work is available on Amaonz, he struggles wit h reading.

He can be the sweetest preteen in the world, or he can flip into an Autist ic fury in the blink of an eye.

But he's my boy. He's my joy and the bane of my existence.

And I suppose that's how it should be.

I'm sure that's how it is.

I am still an author, a freelancewriter, an illustrator, a creator, and a children's minister.

I'm one of those work-at-home folks who wears many hats. I have my fingers in many pots. And I love my jobs -- al of them.

But one stands far above the others.

I am a caregiver.

I am