A carer's dirty work.

Warning: This post may be too much information for some of you. It involves diarrhoea, a lot of diarrhoea.

So I have not posted much about the 'nitty gritty' work a carer has to do. Possibly because it makes me heave and I do not want to go through it in words as I have just done in reality. I think it is a problem that comes with old age and the aged digestive system not being able to cope with certain foods any longer. But it happened to a lesser extent with my Mum and now it is happening with my dad too. My Mum as you would probably expect by now would do anything to help me as she had cared for her Mum and knew all the work involved in caring for someone. My dad, on the other hand seems to have no regard for himself or for me so will refuse to help me in any way. He turns into a helpless childlike 90 year old who has not got a clue what to do.

I was a sickly child. My Mum has told me projectile vomiting was a frequent occurrence for me. I also regularly had nocturnal enuresis which was neither pleasant for my wornout Mum or for me. But with all this occurring, I was taught to be helpful and assist if I could. My dad either has not had any such training or has always regarded it beneath him to clean up after himself. My Mum was always the one to get her hands dirty and would never complain. She would just get on with the job. I took over that role when she became ill. Now, once again I am having to do it for dad. But I am finding it much more difficult with him as he does not help in any way.

For example, this afternoon, he shouts up the stairs that he has had an accident. I go down and find him standing there up to his ankles in diarrhoea. His slippers are overflowing. I glance at the lounge carpet. There are mini 'ant heaps' of diarrhoea displaying the path he has taken to reach the doorway. He walks to the bathroom spilling more of it along the way. I am trying to hold my breath and refrain from gagging simultaneously until I can rush out of the back door and into the back garden for fresh air.

I suggest he has a shower. He says no. I insist he has a shower because he will definitely need one. He says 'okay'. I tell him to put all his clothes in a heap on the floor, have his shower and I will linger in the kitchen just in case he feels dizzy. He listens to me. Yes, he actually listened to me. Wow.

He notices it stinks. I wondered how he had taken so long to get to that realisation. I closed the door and left him to the mess. I rushed around lighting candles and putting them in strategic places along his route. I opened the front door, windows and left the back door wide open. The air was very cold but the stench was horrific. So I did not care. I needed fresh air!

I had a few more deep breaths in the back garden before plucking up all the oomph I could muster to clean up the trail of you-know-what. There was a lot of it. Fortunately we have stain remover for one of our dogs who has accidents so that came in useful and I found some anti-bacterial fabric cleaning spray that smells very pleasant, so used that too. I needed a few breathers in the back garden while I did the first round of cleaning up. I mopped the floors so everything looked and smelt fresh until I got to the lounge. That carpet will definitely take a few rounds of cleaning and scrubbing to look remotely as it should.

He finished his shower and called for me to help him out of the shower. [Background: he had his first shower in almost three months yesterday with the carer. He now has railings to hold on to to get into and out of the shower and I have bought him a non-slip step as there is a substantial step up into the shower that we were concerned about. I think he is lacking in confidence a bit as he had not showered on his own for so long. He was not allowed to shower as his pacemaker wounds needed to heal for a couple of months. But he has now had the go ahead so he has no excuse any more.]

I know those of you with children may be thinking why am I making such a big thing about all this. The reason being, he is not a child, he is a grown man who should be able to do some things for himself but he chooses not to or maybe he was never shown how to assist when he was a child.

I asked if he had a towel wrapped around him, he said he did. I have my limits. I had found him a clean set of clothing with some difficulty as it is really hard to get washing dry in this climate. I removed his smelly heap of pooey clothing to rinse it and then wash it on the highest temperature. He needed some help getting dressed and then when he was all clean and feeling happier, he toddled off with his walking frame to have a lie down. Obviously, taking detours around the trail of paper towels that marked his earlier route. But I could not have a rest, I had a lot still to do. It took three hours in total. Okay, maybe the breathers I desperately needed added to that timescale but still.

It is getting harder and harder to provide him with meals as this is becoming a regular occurrence. I think boiled potatoes and fish fingers may have to become a thrice weekly meal at this rate.

It seems my life is full of poo at present - dogs poo, human poo. I suppose I am fortunate that I do not work on a farm. A close friend gave me a card that states: This shitty time will pass and you will still be awesome.

I do not think she knew how true that is. It is a really shitty time in so many ways. C'est la vie.