Stretched Thin

But, in Another Timeline, I’d Plan Your Dream Vacation

I’ve heard people my age talk about being “sandwiched” between caregiving for their children and for their aging parents. I’d argue, it’s not really much a of a sandwich. That implies structure. Some symmetry. A clear center being pressed in by identical pieces of bread.

Instead, I feel like I’m being stretched. My desire to care for my child is pulling me one way and my drive to help my parents has grabbed me and run in the other direction. I’m somewhere in the middle, turning opaque and starting to fray.

The Third Thread

However, my life has added a, secret, third caregiving thread.

My husband.

If my child has my arms, and my parents have my legs, which part of me is left for him?

Should he wrap his arms around my midsection and drag me into depths of appointments, referrals, scans, and lawyers?

Although, it’s not him that is pulling me, it’s my own worries and fears and anxiety as I watch him navigate his injuries. The car accident was weeks ago, and he’s still not getting better. We can’t seem to find the right care for him and working with a lawyer complicates things that should have been made easier. Every call, every question with no clear answer…it drags me further in.

Planning for the Worst

My Mom is sick, she is getting great care, but potential relief is still months away. Meanwhile, new problems that require new scans and images have emerged. New symptoms, new questions…round and round we go.

Hotel rooms are booked. Travel plans are made, scheduled around surgery and recovery times. Itineraries of the worst possible kind.

I’m actually amazing at planning trips. Sometimes I think I missed my calling as a as a travel agent or vacation concierge. Any place that I plan to visit, I dive deep into everything I can find out about it. I’m not talking about scrolling Expedia reviews (although, I do glance at them.) I’m watching videos of the history of the place, studying other people’s trip reports and itineraries on Reddit, browsing facebook groups for visitors and groups for locals as well. I want to understand as best I can where we’re going before we get there. And I want to plan for the people I love because I want them to love it too.

In another timeline, I am doing deep interviews with clients to really get a feel for them and their families and booking incredible holidays that scratch their very specific travel itches. In another life, I’m the person who plans your dream vacation after hearing your childhood stories and asking what kind of ice cream you like. That’s the level I go to. I do this because I care. And because I want to be prepared.

If I don’t have a trip booked, I’m actively researching my next potential destination, it gives me something to look forward to and things to learn. Without question, I greatly prefer reading reviews on museums and restaurants than doctors and hospitals. I want to look at images of suites in far off lands, rather than trying to get a feel for how far a hotel is from the hospital.

No One Else Can Do This

Here’s the strange part: even with all the stress (layers of it, compounding daily) I would be livid if anyone tried to take this from me.

While there are a million other trips I’d rather be planning, I wouldn’t give this up. Not even if someone offered.

Isn’t that something? Stress on top of stress, on top of stress—and still, I’d never say no.

I would never let go of these responsibilities. I think that’s what love looks like, sometimes. You carry the weight, even when it’s unbearable, because of course you do. This is family, this is what we owe one other when things are hard because they’d do the same for me.

Still, I’m scared. Terrified, actually. That this is level at which things remain or possibly get worse.

What if right now is the least stressed I will feel until the end of my life?

Tethered to the people I love most, stretching paper thin, and falling into the cracks of the Earth.

The Tradeoff We Don’t Talk About

I know through my work at Good Grief, that sometimes things get easier after they are hard. But I also know that sometimes “easy” is a tradeoff that comes with unimaginable loss. The logistics drop off and the grief slips in.

And what is easy about that?

I know people age. I know illness and injury happen. But I didn’t think it would happen to us. Not now. Not all at once.

And yet, here we are: falling apart, making plans, holding on. Hoping that when we put the pieces back together…we’ll like the way it looks.