Summary: Caregiving Stole My Friends
Series 08: The Screen Between Us
Annette Dufresne is 62 and has not left her house for more than two hours at a time in fourteen months. Her mother Cecile, 88, has late-stage Alzheimer’s. When Cecile was diagnosed three years ago, Annette sent the same text to twelve people: “Mom has Alzheimer’s. I wanted you to know.” Three responded. Two maintained contact for more than a month. One, her friend of twenty-two years named Diane, is still calling every Thursday at 7 PM for whatever time Annette has available.
The mechanics of caregiver social isolation are structural. Time: Annette’s day runs from 6 AM to 10 PM, organized around her mother’s needs. Energy: what remains after a fourteen-hour day of sustained vigilance is not social energy. The house: Annette cannot leave Cecile alone, and her social world has contracted to the dimensions of the rooms they share. The subject matter: caregiving conversation is heavy, and most friends do not know how to respond to updates about bodily functions, cognitive decline, and insurance denials. None of this is the friends’ fault entirely. None of it is Annette’s. It is structural.
Diane does something specific that most friends do not know how to do. She calls at a set time on a set day, every week, without exception. She does not say “call me when you have time.” She takes whatever time is available. She asks questions that require short answers. She sometimes just talks about her own life so Annette can listen without performing. She says “I’m here” instead of “I don’t know how you do it.” The first sentence opens a conversation. The second closes one.
This article includes a guide for the friend who wants to stay but does not know how. Call on a set day and time. Do not wait to be called. Ask short questions. Accept short answers. Talk about your own life, because the caregiver’s world has contracted and your world is the window she has. Do not say “let me know if you need anything.” She will not let you know.
Annette left a voice message for Diane at 2 AM on a Wednesday after four hours of managing Cecile’s agitation alone. She did not call. She recorded two minutes and sent it. Diane heard it at 6 AM and recorded a response. Annette listened at 7 AM while preparing Cecile’s breakfast. Asynchronous communication is not a limitation for caregivers. It is the format that fits their lives.
Annette also belongs to an online support group of ninety-four adult children caring for parents with late-stage Alzheimer’s. The people in this group understand in a way that Diane, for all her faithfulness, cannot fully understand because she has not lived it. Diane gives Annette something the group cannot. The group gives Annette something Diane cannot. Both are real. Neither is sufficient alone.
Thursday at 7 PM, Diane calls. Cecile is asleep. Annette has fifteen minutes. The call lasts fourteen. It is not a cure for what caregiving has done to her social world. It is the floor that holds her through to Friday.
Read the full article on BlueMirror.life.