Oliver: Getting a needed break takes planning, but happily it’s still possible

I must admit that I’ve always been a bit of a workaholic. I’ll go and go and go and then wonder why I’m on the verge of burnout.

I remember more than one instance of finally taking a vacation when I was near my breaking point. It would take half the week just to stop spinning about what was happening at work.

So, I suppose that now that I am a full-time caregiver for my husband, Tony, who has early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, it comes as no surprise that I wouldn’t necessarily see the need to take a break. Or, at the very least, feel that I could reasonably take one without being overwhelmed with guilt.

That’s why when I was invited to take a six-day class last week, I almost dismissed it out of hand. The invitation came in March. I had plenty of time to figure things out, but my misgivings were many. How could I leave Tony for six days, even if it was just for eight hours a day? Wasn’t that an enormous ask for his other caregiver, Andre, who also has another client?

Instead of panicking, I put together a plan. What if I divided those eight hours into shifts? Andre would still come each morning to get Tony ready for the day. Then, the first shift could take over for Andre for the rest of the morning until lunchtime.

Andre graciously offered to return around noon so that he could help Tony with his medication and take him to the bathroom. Tony won’t go to the bathroom with just anyone. In fact, he’s decided that he isn’t too keen on me helping him with that anymore, so this was a cause for concern.

Then there would be a second shift, which would end when I returned home.

The next step was trying to find people who would be willing to sit with Tony for big chunks of time. Up until this point, I would only ask Tony’s friends for help when I had a doctor’s appointment or when I knew it wouldn’t be too long.

The problem with dementia, and I know I’m not the only one who has experienced this, is that it’s unfamiliar to a lot of people. No one likes to admit that Tony’s strange behavior scares them, but I know it does. Still, Tony isn’t an aggressive guy. Or at least, not when his pain is under control.

Once I started to ask for help, the schedule filled up surprisingly fast. I like to have a couple of people here, so that no one feels overwhelmed by the task. Unless it’s Andre, who doesn’t need backup.

Still, there were a lot of details to work out. I usually make Tony an egg sandwich for lunch. I couldn’t expect anyone to try to do that each day, so I figured out a reasonable alternative. That way, I could have Tony’s lunch ready to go in the refrigerator each morning, clearly marked, so that it wasn’t too difficult to figure out.

I did the same for Tony’s 10:30 a.m. snack. The thing to remember about people with dementia is that they do best if they are in their routine. That I was going to be gone was enough of a break from his routine that I wanted to minimize everything else.

I also had a backup plan in case something went off the rails. If it was a small problem, my helpers were instructed to call Andre. If it was a big problem, I was only about 30 minutes away and could return home. I could continue the class on Zoom, but the idea was to be in person for as much of it as possible.

All these plans would have been for nothing had Tony decided that he didn’t like the situation. However, he’s always been good when his friends visit, and sometimes it even looks like he’s happy to have a new audience for his antics.

Still, when the day came to leave for the first day of class, I was a little nervous. How would Tony do? Would Andre have to keep having his day interrupted to deal with crises? What would Tony be like when I got home? How messed up would the house be when Tony moved everything from room to room?

I really shouldn’t have worried at all. Not once did Andre have to come for a crisis. Tony managed to stay in his routine, and he seemed to be happy about all the visitors. I’m told he even did some of his singing and dancing. Who knew?

When I’d get home each day, he looked genuinely happy to see me. In the weeks leading up to class, I wasn’t always so sure about that. My burnout was real.

I think the break was something I desperately needed. But it also might have been something Tony needed, too. Maybe I won’t wait so long to get another extended break. Or at least that’s the hope.

• Joan Oliver is the former Northwest Herald assistant news editor. She has been associated with the Northwest Herald since 1990. She can be reached at jolivercolumn@gmail.com.