Seeing Through the Fog

As a caregiver have you ever felt like you are in a fog? I didn’t realize I had been in a fog until after Robert died last year.

Everyone saw the joy in Robert’s smile. Everyone told me how much joy Robert brought them and I saw that. I saw his smile every day and absolutely loved it.

But it wasn’t until I saw his smile on the calendar I created with his photo that I really, really saw the joy in his smile.

During the decade and a half of caring for Robert what I saw clouding that smile was his health declining. He wasn’t concerned, it didn’t affect his smile but it clouded his smile for me.

People saw his infectious smile, his pure laughter, his ability to live in the moment.

I saw his mobility issues;

I saw him choking on his food;

I saw his temperature rise with the flu, with Covid, with RSV;

I saw his smile through the beeping machines and oxygen tube when he was in the hospital;

I saw his smile turn into “seizure mouth” when a seizure was coming (it was pursed lips with his head turned to the right);

The doctors saw his smile in the ICU with pneumonia when he told them he felt super, amazing, excellent and great but I know the doctors also saw my worry;

When I look at my calendar now and see Robert’s smile, I see his dimples and I even see the smile reaching his eyes.

Simple things made him so happy. A Starbucks Frappuccino, Rocky Road ice cream, pizza, a cheeseburger and french fries – really, anything food related!

Playing toss the ball with Taz made him smile;

Getting his hair cut with Richard brought a smile to his face;

Playing bingo made him smile – but only once he won (he was pretty competitive);

Talking about the San Francisco 49ers? Oh that definitely made him smile;

Going out to dinner with family always made him smile (I mean, food was involved but he loved being around people he loved!);

“Working out” (physical therapy) and seeing his wonderful therapists always made him smile but I saw the increased difficulty he had transferring from his wheelchair to the exercise bike.

He smiled with his doctors (when he wasn’t falling asleep) but I saw my notepad with questions and concerns;

Caregivers see so much more than a smile but because we do see more we often miss the joy that comes with the smile.

The smile is there. The joy is overwhelming.

Caregivers see this but it’s often a little foggy.

If we are lucky, we can remember to set aside the fog for a bit and enjoy the smile and the dimples and the twinkling eyes.