Somebody’s Hero

I don’t fight fires or cure the sick. I’ve never scaled a mountain or scored a winning touchdown. In many ways, my time on this earth is spent living an average life. But everyday, in little ways, I get to be somebody’s hero and the feeling is like no other. For you see, I am a Caregiver. It is a title I wear proudly.

My acts of caregiving are directed at a special person – my sister Gail. Eight years my junior, Gail is developmentally disabled and functions at about a five-year-old level. Gail is sweet and funny. She’s very compassionate and concerned about others. She is truly one-of-a-kind.

One of Gail’s special qualities is her unlimited capacity for gratitude. She is thankful for even the smallest gesture so it makes me want to do even more for her. Little things like buying a bag of her favorite kind of candy at the local supermarket. Stretching out on the couch on a blustery afternoon and watching a movie together – anything with a boisterous musical score is her personal preference. Going for a walk along the beach. Playing a round of miniature golf together. No matter what it is, it brings a smile to her face.

I ‘m not sure exactly when or how Gail and I ended up connecting so tightly. I know her so well that I can practically read her thoughts. I think our connection began in childhood.

In family photos, Gail is always right next to me. Maybe we connected because when she was a toddler, Gail occasionally would have a petit-mal seizure. I would sit by her side and hold her hand until the seizure passed. I can still remember how her face looked once the seizure was done. Her facial expression was one of serenity.

Becoming Gail’s caregiver has changed me in so many ways. It’s taught me the art of patience. It’s shown me to appreciate the small things in life. Overall, I think it’s made me a better person. Becoming a family caregiver is not a choice. We become caregivers because there is a need to help our loved ones. Forget Superman or Wonder Woman. Family Caregivers are the real superheroes. I am convinced that being a caregiver is something that is learned under fire and not a skill that is innate.

I don’t have a magic wand that can make everything better for Gail, but I try to make sure she has a good life. But everyday, there are issues that give me moments of concern. I worry about her health and safety. I worry that others will be kind to her. I hope that she is happy. But most of all, I worry about her future and pray that everything will be all right in her life.

Despite my sisterly praise, like each of us, Gail is not perfect. Because of her developmental limitations, there can be some moments of frustration for both of us. Sometimes I can’t figure out exactly what’s going on in her head, and she can’t always express her thoughts clearly. This often leads to some tears. But her feelings are easily soothed and she bounces back to her regular happy disposition. Also, Gail can exhibit a bit of stubbornness from time to time. She functions best when following a strict routine. Requests to deviate from her routine are often met with resistance. But by showing her a little understanding and patience, Gail learns to adapt – albeit reluctantly.

Occasionally, I wonder what my life may have been like if Gail was not in it and I had not become a caregiver. I would have been a very different person, most certainly. Because of having Gail in my life, Santa Claus lives, rainbows make me smile, and I know what unconditional love is.