Seventh Day of a Caregiver's Cold

I woke up on the seventh day of my cold feeling worse than I have felt in a very long time, and I realize that this is not a cold any longer, if it ever was.

I am lucky enough to get in to see a doctor on the same day. Sinus infection, she says. She prescribes amoxicillin, 500mg, three capsules twice a day for two weeks. "Oh, and by the way," she says, "it may take a week for you to start feeling better."

Great. I've been feeling badly for a week already. This is just great.

I stop by the nursing home to see Romeo. Probably shouldn't, but I haven't seen him for seven days.

When I arrive, Romeo is foggy. He is slow, he looks like his mind is far away, he barely notices me. This goes on for about 10 minutes. That's okay. I wasn't expecting him to come out of the fog at all during my visit, so it was good to have him back.

I'm there for only 40 minutes. Not long enough, I surmise (based on what, I don't know), to spread the sinus infection germs. As I'm getting ready to leave, to go home, to lie down and rest, Romeo confides in me.

"You know," he says, "when you first came in, I didn't know who you were."

"What?"

"When you got here, I didn't recognize you."

"Really?" That explains Romeo's fog. This is also the very first time Romeo has not recognized me. I hadn't seen him for seven days, and that's all it took for him to forget me. What a sweet soul he is to tell me, to speak it as if it were an every day occurrence.

Am I sad? Upset? Grieving? No. Right now, all I want to do is go home, lie down, and give this sinus infection room to heal. I'll process today's events later.

Sixth Day of a Caregiver's Cold

Another day away from Romeo because of my cold symptoms. It's been a week since I've seen him. This is getting old.

He called me this afternoon. "What are you doing?"

Me, with a scratchy voice: "I'm about ready to get some lunch."

"Oh, good."

"What are you doing?"

"Are you coming to see me soon?"

"I still have cold symptoms."

"Oh, are you drinking lots of orange juice?"

"All I have in the house right now is grape juice and apple juice."

"Get some orange juice. It's much better for you."

"Okay."

"Juliet, this will sound silly."

"Probably not to me. What is it?"

"Well, I know it's been a long time since you've been to visit. And I know it's because of your cold."

"Yes."

"But, I know this is silly, but I can't help but feeling that one day you'll abandon me." I could hear the tears in his voice, which made me tear up.

"Oh, Romeo, you're right. It's silly."

"I know." More crying from both of us. Gosh, we're wimps.

"You know, Romeo, that I will always do the best I can to see that you get everything you need."

"Yes, I know."

"And if you ever get to the point when you don't know who I am, you gotta know that I'll still come to visit you."

"Yes, I know."

More tears, more crying.

So that solves it. No matter what, no matter whether I am coughing, sneezing, sniffling, or not, I'm going to go see Romeo tomorrow.

Fifth Day of a Caregiver's Cold

Feeling much better today, but still low energy, and still coughing and sniffling and staying away from visiting Romeo at the nursing home. I'm still contagious and don't want to infect any of the residents there.

When I spoke with Romeo on the phone this morning, he told me about an incident this morning that worried him. It worried me as well. Still, he relayed the story with his usual god-like calmness and presence.

At the breakfast table, Romeo could not see his food on the table. He couldn't see anything on the table. His eyesight is fine, but dementia sometimes hijacks the messages that travel to his brain so that he never gets them. In this case, his eyes probably saw what was in front of him, but his neurological system didn't translate it for him, so he saw nothing. This often happens with dementia. Shoot.

Fourth Day of a Caregiver's Cold

Today was my crash and burn day, surrendering to the cold virus that's been visiting the past few days. My voice was nearly gone this morning, and by 10:00 a.m., it was gone.

I did absolutely nothing all day but lie on the couch with my blankie pulled over me, dozing, sipping water. I watched a movie, HGTV (my default channel), and the Food Network.

Oh, well, wait. Yes, I talked with Romeo today too, of course. He was so sweet and loving and full of advice on what I should do to take care of myself.

Romeo advised me, "Take lots of vitamin C, drink lots of fruit juice, and have some brandy. Brandy is very good for colds."

"I don't have any brandy in the house."

"Go out and get some."

"I don't want to leave the house."

"Call the store and have them deliver it."

"I don't know of any liquor store that delivers."

So I cuddled up under the covers without the brandy.

Later, I felt up to watching a movie. The sillier, the better. I love silly movies when I'm sick. They make me laugh, and laughter is good medicine -- maybe about as good as brandy.

Typically I put in a Marx Brothers movie when I'm sick, but I just watched the only one I own (A Night At the Opera) a day or two or three ago and didn't want to watch it again. And I didn't want to drive to the library to get a different one. So I decided on a movie in my private collection, pulled it off the shelf, and popped it in. Three Amigos, with Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, and Martin Short. It did the job: made me laugh.

I'm not sure what it is about singing and talking animals that cracks me up so much. Whatever it is that makes you laugh, I highly recommend you do it or read it or watch it when you're not feeling well or when you're feeling down. Laughter is a great substitute when there's no brandy.

Third Day of a Caregiver's Cold

I feel fuzzy, drained, dopey. Regardless, I go to my acupuncture appointment. Afterward, I intend to go home, have lunch, and sleep. And that's what I do.

Romeo and I have missed each other's phone calls today, so no phone conversation with him until tomorrow. I don't visit today, as I'm probably still contagious and don't want to expose anyone at the nursing home to my cold germs.

But silly, crazy me...later, I go out with friends for dinner and some great music, come home, and stay up way too late, as has become my custom. Staying up late. Why? Because I can? Because I'm not working now and can do that? Because I'm naturally a night person? Because I usually need only six hours of sleep each night? Because I'm sick? Dunno. I'm too fuzzy, drained, and dopey to know or care.

A Caregiver's Cold

This morning I woke up with a cold. There were no warning signs, no symptoms that came on slowly. I simply woke up with a cold. Weird.

I called Romeo to talk with him, to tell him that I wouldn't be coming to see him until the cold is gone. I don't want to pass along the germs to him or anyone else at the nursing home.

Romeo understood, of course. But his next words melted me completely: "Oh, my Beloved, I want to come home and hold you and take care of you." Oh, yes, I would like that more than anything right now. Me, who doesn't like to be held or touched when I'm sick, would love it more than anything if Romeo were here to take care of me.

When I'm sick, I prefer to curl up in a ball under the covers all alone. Let me be. But for Romeo, I would let him hold me. For Romeo, I would let him fuss over me, tuck me in, kiss me on the forehead, bring me cough medicine and hot tea, read out loud to me, do reiki on me, bring me vitamins and tinctures, and sing lullabies to me. For Romeo, I would let him hold my hand, massage my aching muscles, and tell me fairy tales. For Romeo, I would fall asleep in his arms.

But Romeo can't be here. So I will do what I've always done when I'm sick. I lie on the couch with tissues and hot tea within reach, a favorite blankie tucked all around me, and pop in a movie. This time, though, I fall asleep and dream of Romeo as the Marx Brothers play in the background.