Friday, March 2, 2007
Last night Mom and I watched...
...Rain Man. This is a movie that we've watched so many times I thought we owned it. Thus, when I noticed it was coming up in 15 minutes on TCM, I mentioned it to Mom and rifled through our movie collection cabinets to queue to movie from DVD so, in case Mom decided to comment through it (this is one of those movies that connects her with her past as a special ed teacher and educational administrator), we could pause it, talk, rewind and continue watching it. I was surprised to find that I've never purchased a copy. I'll be looking for one, since, at the end of the movie Mom assumed we owned it and replied, when I told her we didn't, "We should." She's right.
I've always considered this movie more a display of the condition of the autistic savant and a "brother" movie in which old injuries that prevented a relationship are patched and healed. At the point in the movie, though, when Charlie and Raymond Babbitt are at their first road trip restaurant for a pancake breakfast after a mild but eye-opening night of adjustment in a motel, when what seems like a Pandora's box of further autistic savant behaviors begins to spill over and Charlie begins to show the stress of handling Raymond, my mother commented, with equal parts perplexity and intrigue, "It's like taking care of a child!"
Without thoughtful pause, I immediately corrected, "No, Mom. A normal child is adjustable, changes, develops into the kind of adult we expect people to become. It's actually like taking care of an elderly demented parent."
Mom was sitting in her rocker. I was sprawled on the floor to her left, thus, she was only in my peripheral vision. I noticed, while continuing to attend to the movie, which required an intensity not solicited when we watch DVD's, since, with a DVD, I know I can "go back" if I miss something while I prowl the house doing minor chores neglected earlier in the day, that Mom sharpened her sights on me for more than a moment in response, then returned her attention to the movie. Although her expression was placid, I knew that she was processing a foggy connection between what I'd just said and my presence in her life. Suddenly, I realized, this is another of those subtle caregiving movies that can, if we choose to recognize it as such, increase our understanding of and empathy for those who play out the caregiving role for loved ones who are Ancient and/or Infirm...but, since we don't readily identify with this kind of caregiving, at least in this culture, we, rather, try to avoid it, this is lost on us.
I thought about how Proof is not, in the literature, identified as a caregiver movie...nor is Magnolia, nor, astonishingly, is Marvin's Room. The funny thing is, you don't even have to think deeply to catch the caregiver facets of each of these movies. I think our blinders are that we aren't interested in identifying ourselves as caregivers to other than our children until we are thrust into the position. Too bad. It is that element of the surprise thrust that renders so much of caregiving so unpleasant, and, I think, ultimately undesirable for most of us.
Yet, caregiving is exactly that with which Charlie Babbitt finds himself coming to terms: The shock; the denial; the frustration; the lashing out; the refusal to accept; then, the slow process of putting oneself aside and observing the care recipient; noticing that not everything about the recipient is "retarded" or frustrating; allowing a sense of appreciation for the care recipient to develop; becoming attached to the recipient beyond expectations; realizing aspects of the recipient's character and abilities that were not previously discovered by prior caregivers, especially professionals; lobbying on behalf of these aspects; falling in love with the care recipient; and, finally, making a clear, informed determination about whether being the recipient's primary caregiver is a good idea.
In addition, the movie addresses, "What's in it for the caregiver?" Admittedly, Rain Man focuses on this using a heavy handed device: Charlie's need for money, lots of it, and his desperate frustration when he discovers that his father has left him nothing that he can readily turn into the cash he needs to save his business. Thus, when he discovers Raymond's existence, his initial desire to become Raymond's caregiver has nothing to do with Raymond and everything to do with the benefits which he imagines will accrue to him. No matter. Movies are expected to use such ungloved, iron fisted devices. I doubt, though, that there is a caregiver alive, no matter how little or much involved she is in her care recipient's life, who assents to caregiving without considering the benefits to self. Nor is there a person related to a caregiver alive who doesn't, at some point, wonder what the caregiver could possibly be getting from the experience and even suspect, often erroneously, that the reward must monetary or in the form of gaining control of the recipient's assets. Rarely, though, does an intense needs caregiver do it for the money. Often, we never consider why we're doing it, what's in it for us. Despite the fact that I've been doing this for over thirteen years, I hadn't considered this until last night.
Why, after six months of waffling, did I decide to assent to my mother's request? I remember, in one of my introductory essays written many years ago, mentioning that doing this was made easier by the fact that my employment history, while full, has also been eclectic because, while I'm an easy employee to manage and usually a stellar employee, I'm not an employee who is easily satisfied with the treatment employers load upon their employees. It was easier, and much more interesting and edifying, for me to travel from company to company, position to position, first as a permanent temp, then a self-employeed contractor. Yet, when I began my sojourn with my mother, I immediately sought full time employment and found it so difficult, two and a half years later, to become my mother's full time companion that I avoided this by remaining employed in the world of commerce longer, probably, than I should have while my mother was drowning in fairly constant sleep.
It was hard for me to acknowledge and embrace the requirements of being my mother's full time companion and life-manager. Even when I did, it took a couple of years for me to stop refusing to completely take over the business of her life and yet a couple more years before I stopped refusing to manage her medical care. In each case, I refrained from doing so until my mother was teetering on the edge of disaster but wasn't aware that she was.
I'm still, today, having a hard time figuring out what I initially thought was in it for me. The only benefit I can so far identify is that I was unwilling to allow my mother to become a stranger to me and did what I needed to do to keep that from happening. Over the decades we had kept up such a close, multi-faceted relationship, despite my constant traveling, that the thought of having her dwindle, alone, against her will (which will was obviously expressed in her request that I live with her for the rest of her life) was simply not a thought I could entertain. Truth is, I cringe when I think of this. It makes me sound like some kind of saint and, believe me, I'm far from saintly. I wouldn't even want to aspire to such status. My motives certainly weren't as mercenary as Charlie Babbitt's, but I'm sure they weren't, as well, completely selfless.
I do, though, know why I'm still here, and, oddly, it's for exactly the same reason, above, I suspect I assented to do this, with the following trimmings:
What's especially interesting about Rain Man as a movie about caregivers is that Charlie Babbitt decides it is not in his own or Raymond's best interest to continue as his brother's caregiver. As he relinquishes his brother into the hands of his usual caregivers, though, he insists that the discoveries he's made about his brother have been overlooked by those who've been caring for him for decades. There is also a hint that Charlie will remain in touch with his brother in part to make sure that those who care for him are reminded that even Raymond is capable of evolving. He's right about this, and, luckily, Raymond's professional caregivers take note. This is an idealized and felicitous version of what professional caregiving could be with regular, refreshing oversight by family members. There are, it should be said, many who do this. Our professional facility staffs members, though, are only just beginning to consider that family members who regularly visit professionally placed charges are more than interlopers with whom they must negotiate in order to give all appearances (true or not) that care recipients are receiving the care their relatives expect and make sure no one expects anything more than that for which adequate payment has been received. Rain Man does not hesitate to make the point that "Wallbrook" (I believe I'm remembering the name of the facility correctly) is one of the best, if not the best, of such facilities "in the country" and is careful to establish the dead father as a very rich man who set up a hefty trust to handle the cost of Raymond's excellent care. This movie was initially released in 1988. Funny how things haven't changed much since then in the professional care business!
So, hmmm...fanciful, really, and thought provoking, to be a caregiver and watch movies from the caregiver's perspective. Amazing what one notices, and amazing, as well, what we don't notice.
I've always considered this movie more a display of the condition of the autistic savant and a "brother" movie in which old injuries that prevented a relationship are patched and healed. At the point in the movie, though, when Charlie and Raymond Babbitt are at their first road trip restaurant for a pancake breakfast after a mild but eye-opening night of adjustment in a motel, when what seems like a Pandora's box of further autistic savant behaviors begins to spill over and Charlie begins to show the stress of handling Raymond, my mother commented, with equal parts perplexity and intrigue, "It's like taking care of a child!"
Without thoughtful pause, I immediately corrected, "No, Mom. A normal child is adjustable, changes, develops into the kind of adult we expect people to become. It's actually like taking care of an elderly demented parent."
Mom was sitting in her rocker. I was sprawled on the floor to her left, thus, she was only in my peripheral vision. I noticed, while continuing to attend to the movie, which required an intensity not solicited when we watch DVD's, since, with a DVD, I know I can "go back" if I miss something while I prowl the house doing minor chores neglected earlier in the day, that Mom sharpened her sights on me for more than a moment in response, then returned her attention to the movie. Although her expression was placid, I knew that she was processing a foggy connection between what I'd just said and my presence in her life. Suddenly, I realized, this is another of those subtle caregiving movies that can, if we choose to recognize it as such, increase our understanding of and empathy for those who play out the caregiving role for loved ones who are Ancient and/or Infirm...but, since we don't readily identify with this kind of caregiving, at least in this culture, we, rather, try to avoid it, this is lost on us.
I thought about how Proof is not, in the literature, identified as a caregiver movie...nor is Magnolia, nor, astonishingly, is Marvin's Room. The funny thing is, you don't even have to think deeply to catch the caregiver facets of each of these movies. I think our blinders are that we aren't interested in identifying ourselves as caregivers to other than our children until we are thrust into the position. Too bad. It is that element of the surprise thrust that renders so much of caregiving so unpleasant, and, I think, ultimately undesirable for most of us.
Yet, caregiving is exactly that with which Charlie Babbitt finds himself coming to terms: The shock; the denial; the frustration; the lashing out; the refusal to accept; then, the slow process of putting oneself aside and observing the care recipient; noticing that not everything about the recipient is "retarded" or frustrating; allowing a sense of appreciation for the care recipient to develop; becoming attached to the recipient beyond expectations; realizing aspects of the recipient's character and abilities that were not previously discovered by prior caregivers, especially professionals; lobbying on behalf of these aspects; falling in love with the care recipient; and, finally, making a clear, informed determination about whether being the recipient's primary caregiver is a good idea.
In addition, the movie addresses, "What's in it for the caregiver?" Admittedly, Rain Man focuses on this using a heavy handed device: Charlie's need for money, lots of it, and his desperate frustration when he discovers that his father has left him nothing that he can readily turn into the cash he needs to save his business. Thus, when he discovers Raymond's existence, his initial desire to become Raymond's caregiver has nothing to do with Raymond and everything to do with the benefits which he imagines will accrue to him. No matter. Movies are expected to use such ungloved, iron fisted devices. I doubt, though, that there is a caregiver alive, no matter how little or much involved she is in her care recipient's life, who assents to caregiving without considering the benefits to self. Nor is there a person related to a caregiver alive who doesn't, at some point, wonder what the caregiver could possibly be getting from the experience and even suspect, often erroneously, that the reward must monetary or in the form of gaining control of the recipient's assets. Rarely, though, does an intense needs caregiver do it for the money. Often, we never consider why we're doing it, what's in it for us. Despite the fact that I've been doing this for over thirteen years, I hadn't considered this until last night.
Why, after six months of waffling, did I decide to assent to my mother's request? I remember, in one of my introductory essays written many years ago, mentioning that doing this was made easier by the fact that my employment history, while full, has also been eclectic because, while I'm an easy employee to manage and usually a stellar employee, I'm not an employee who is easily satisfied with the treatment employers load upon their employees. It was easier, and much more interesting and edifying, for me to travel from company to company, position to position, first as a permanent temp, then a self-employeed contractor. Yet, when I began my sojourn with my mother, I immediately sought full time employment and found it so difficult, two and a half years later, to become my mother's full time companion that I avoided this by remaining employed in the world of commerce longer, probably, than I should have while my mother was drowning in fairly constant sleep.
It was hard for me to acknowledge and embrace the requirements of being my mother's full time companion and life-manager. Even when I did, it took a couple of years for me to stop refusing to completely take over the business of her life and yet a couple more years before I stopped refusing to manage her medical care. In each case, I refrained from doing so until my mother was teetering on the edge of disaster but wasn't aware that she was.
I'm still, today, having a hard time figuring out what I initially thought was in it for me. The only benefit I can so far identify is that I was unwilling to allow my mother to become a stranger to me and did what I needed to do to keep that from happening. Over the decades we had kept up such a close, multi-faceted relationship, despite my constant traveling, that the thought of having her dwindle, alone, against her will (which will was obviously expressed in her request that I live with her for the rest of her life) was simply not a thought I could entertain. Truth is, I cringe when I think of this. It makes me sound like some kind of saint and, believe me, I'm far from saintly. I wouldn't even want to aspire to such status. My motives certainly weren't as mercenary as Charlie Babbitt's, but I'm sure they weren't, as well, completely selfless.
I do, though, know why I'm still here, and, oddly, it's for exactly the same reason, above, I suspect I assented to do this, with the following trimmings:
- I know what I'm doing and have arrived at a level of confidence and competence that rivals that of my performance in any job in which I was ever employed in the world of commerce;
- I'm inspired by what I've discovered in myself, my mother and the world we inhabit as we've journeyed together. I await, with excited anticipation, further surprising discoveries. This, in fact, is one of my primary desires in life: To be in a position to continually discover, discover, discover, consider, consider, consider, create, create, create, and surprise myself over and over;
- I like that I'm in a position of being "off the radar", so to speak, as far as the rest of my society and culture is concerned, because,
- One of my primary interests and joys is to turn my own attention and that of others to areas of life that have escaped consideration but seem to me to need it.
What's especially interesting about Rain Man as a movie about caregivers is that Charlie Babbitt decides it is not in his own or Raymond's best interest to continue as his brother's caregiver. As he relinquishes his brother into the hands of his usual caregivers, though, he insists that the discoveries he's made about his brother have been overlooked by those who've been caring for him for decades. There is also a hint that Charlie will remain in touch with his brother in part to make sure that those who care for him are reminded that even Raymond is capable of evolving. He's right about this, and, luckily, Raymond's professional caregivers take note. This is an idealized and felicitous version of what professional caregiving could be with regular, refreshing oversight by family members. There are, it should be said, many who do this. Our professional facility staffs members, though, are only just beginning to consider that family members who regularly visit professionally placed charges are more than interlopers with whom they must negotiate in order to give all appearances (true or not) that care recipients are receiving the care their relatives expect and make sure no one expects anything more than that for which adequate payment has been received. Rain Man does not hesitate to make the point that "Wallbrook" (I believe I'm remembering the name of the facility correctly) is one of the best, if not the best, of such facilities "in the country" and is careful to establish the dead father as a very rich man who set up a hefty trust to handle the cost of Raymond's excellent care. This movie was initially released in 1988. Funny how things haven't changed much since then in the professional care business!
So, hmmm...fanciful, really, and thought provoking, to be a caregiver and watch movies from the caregiver's perspective. Amazing what one notices, and amazing, as well, what we don't notice.
Comments:
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Originally posted by Mona Johnson: Sat Mar 03, 06:16:00 AM 2007
Gail, what courage you have to discuss the essence of caregiving with your mom! Of course, it's a tribute to your mother as well as to you that you can talk about the things that matter.
You might like being "off the radar," as you put it, but I wonder whether baby boomer caregivers, and then their caregivers, will remain out of sight and out of mind given the huge numbers of people who will be caregiving.
Either way, your journals will be required reading for these future caregivers.
Originally posted by Karma: Sun Mar 04, 11:31:00 PM 2007
Well, you're not off the radar here on your blogs. I think its great that you're being so introspective about what you're doing. I think its important for us to do from time to time - to evaluate where we are, what we're doing, and to acknowledge that whatever situation we're in, that we benefit somehow from it or we wouldn't stay.
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Gail, what courage you have to discuss the essence of caregiving with your mom! Of course, it's a tribute to your mother as well as to you that you can talk about the things that matter.
You might like being "off the radar," as you put it, but I wonder whether baby boomer caregivers, and then their caregivers, will remain out of sight and out of mind given the huge numbers of people who will be caregiving.
Either way, your journals will be required reading for these future caregivers.
Originally posted by Karma: Sun Mar 04, 11:31:00 PM 2007
Well, you're not off the radar here on your blogs. I think its great that you're being so introspective about what you're doing. I think its important for us to do from time to time - to evaluate where we are, what we're doing, and to acknowledge that whatever situation we're in, that we benefit somehow from it or we wouldn't stay.
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