They come for their monthly visit. They bring lunch and a basket full of advice. They look at my husband, hear how things are going, and start offering ideas.
Meanwhile, I’m wondering how to explain that I’ve already tried them without sounding rude.
Because I have. I’ve tried the things they’re suggesting. I’ve spent the time, put in the effort, and hoped something would help. His condition hasn’t improved the way any of us wanted.
When somebody walks in with another suggestion, it can feel like they think the answer has been sitting there all along and I somehow missed it.
Maybe that isn’t what they mean. I can’t know what they’re thinking. I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end.
It feels like they think I’m doing it wrong. Like they could do it better.
Well, there he is. Have at it.
I mean that with more exhaustion than I know how to explain.
Go ahead and try. I would love for something to work. I would love for this visit to bring an answer I haven’t found. I’m tired, and I have no interest in winning an argument at the expense of something that could help him.
So they try. They discover that the things I’ve already tried don’t suddenly work because somebody else is suggesting them.
And lo and behold, he’s still the same.
Then they leave.
They get a pat on the back and credit for showing up. They brought lunch. They made the visit. They tried to help.
I’m still here with my husband and the same needs he had before they arrived.
That’s the part I wish people understood. They’ve seen a piece of the work. I live with the rest of it. A monthly visit gives them a glimpse, and somehow I end up feeling as though I need to defend everything I’ve done between visits.
I find myself wanting to explain every attempt. Every reason an idea didn’t work. Every detail that might convince them I haven’t just been sitting here waiting for somebody to tell me what to do.
I’m already tired from caregiving. Explaining my caregiving takes more out of me.
And there’s something painful about watching someone get credit for a brief attempt when your ongoing effort has become so familiar that people barely notice it.
They can see the lunch. They were here for the visit.
My work continues after they go home.
I wish a visit could begin with someone asking what I’ve already tried, then listening to the answer. I wish there were more curiosity about what this is actually like before the advice comes out.
I wish I could say a suggestion didn’t help without feeling as though I have to prove I gave it a fair chance.
Mostly, I wish people understood that my husband still having the same struggles doesn’t mean I’ve failed him.
That is a hard thing to hold on to when I’m worn out and somebody else seems so sure.
If you’ve ever stood there listening to advice you could practically recite yourself, I wonder how much of your energy goes into staying polite. How much you leave unsaid because explaining would take more energy than you have.
I have plenty left unsaid.
Today, this is what I can say. I’ve tried. I’m still trying. And when the monthly visit ends, I’m still here.