If suffering and humiliation is meant to aid in our sanctification, Lord Jesus—boy, you sanctified me a lot this past week.
Up until now, my new caregiving job only involved four- and five-hour shifts, and even those can feel long if there’s not much household work to do. Many clients are unresponsive or suffer from dementia, so it’s not always easy to deal with the monotony and blaring TVs all day. I got rid of my own cable subscription a long time ago, and now any beyond-movie-length exposure—especially to the ever-present commercials—feels like I’m bathed in toxic sludge.
Tuesday was my first seven-hour shift at the house of a man with advanced dementia. By the time I got there in the early afternoon, I already felt not so great: scratchy throat, a sandy feeling in my eyes, slightly fatigued. A condition that rapidly progressed to full-blown illness throughout the next seven hours. I’ve rarely felt so miserable, and the worst was, I couldn’t get away.
The situation was exacerbated by the fact that Tom* kept wandering about the house, including the outside… and as a caregiver, I have to keep my clients safe. If they attempt to leave the house, I either have to redirect them or follow them. There was no redirecting with Tom, so every 5–10 minutes, I had to wrest myself out of my chair, put on a coat, and run after him as he headed out for a stroll around the house. He was also hard of hearing, and I started losing my voice.
After three hours of this, I was completely exhausted… and there were five more hours to go. My condition became so bad that I had coughing fits that shook my whole body—and to add humiliation to hurt, at some point I coughed so hard that I peed my pants. So I had to sit there for hours in my wet underwear and tights (thankfully, I was wearing a skirt), and there was nothing I could do about it. My shame and helplessness were so great, I just wanted to die.
I prayed to Jesus and Mary to help me out here, to have Tom sit down for a while and give me some rest, to have him take a nap or something. Every time he was out of sight somewhere else in the house, I locked the outside door, which dissuaded him sometimes but not always.
I’d tried to switch off the TV for a while but noticed that the silence made him more agitated. So I flicked through the channels and landed on an old movie with Ricardo Montalban, where he plays a priest on a journey to retrieve a statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe—and praise be to God, Tom sat down and stayed in his chair for once, watching the movie and finally nodding off for a blessed half-hour nap.
I gave a heartfelt thanks to Our Lady, and when the family returned, I hightailed it out of there as fast as possible. On the way home, I was so sick and distraught that I started doubting if I should even be doing this kind of work.
Wednesday marked the arrival of my very first Airbnb guest—great timing here as well. I offered D., a very sweet young man, a refund if he wanted to back out, but he said he’d be fine if I was. So I dragged myself out of bed with a 100-degree fever, did some final cleanup, and went to the grocery store to get some last-minute provisions (a six-pack of tissues, Gatorade for electrolytes, grapes, and crackers because those are the only things I can keep down when I’m sick). By the time I got everything together, I was so dehydrated and fatigued that I almost passed out in the store.
Thankfully, D. was very easy to deal with. I just stayed out of his way in order not to infect him, which was just as well since I was barely able to leave my bed. Friday was the first day I felt halfway like myself again.
So what’s the lesson here?
Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe I was getting a little too cocky, even priding myself in “having a knack with dementia patients.” Maybe it was a test of endurance because after this experience, I briefly thought about quitting that whole caregiving thing altogether. Or maybe he wants me to quit caregiving and do something else. Or maybe it was yet another way of showing me how completely powerless I am without Him.
“The shock of sorrow comes only to those who think this world is fixed and absolute, that there is nothing beyond. They think everything here below should be perfect. Hence, they ask questions: ‘Why should I suffer? What have I done to deserve this?’ Maybe you did nothing to deserve it. Certainly, Our Lord did nothing to deserve His Cross. But it came, and through it, He went to His glory.”
—Venerable Fulton Sheen
One thing I’ve noticed is how wonderfully quiet and calm my mind has become while I’ve been too sick to spend any time on social media. I didn’t read or watch any news, I didn’t know what was going on in the world, I didn’t learn about the latest shenanigans of the pope or the government or the evil masterminds at the WEF. Instead, I read a fantasy novel and slept a lot… and it felt amazing.
Perhaps God gave me a forced break to make me get away from the hustle and bustle of the world.
I’m trying to think of the Bible verse that says to thank God always and for everything, no matter what it is. Let me look it up…
Whoa. It’s Ephesians 5:20, but the whole passage (1–20) is loaded:
Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.
But fornication and impurity of any kind, or greed, must not even be mentioned among you, as is proper among saints. Entirely out of place is obscene, silly, and vulgar talk; but instead, let there be thanksgiving. Be sure of this, that no fornicator or impure person, or one who is greedy (that is, an idolater), has any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God.
Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of these things the wrath of God comes on those who are disobedient. Therefore do not be associated with them. For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light—for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. Try to find out what is pleasing to the Lord.
Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them. For it is shameful even to mention what such people do secretly; but everything exposed by the light becomes visible, for everything that becomes visible is light. Therefore it says,
“Sleeper, awake!
Rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you.”Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil. So do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. Do not get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery; but be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.
And just as I’m about to send off this post, I get more confirmation from a different source, The Catholic World Report. I randomly click on an article in the feed about same-sex attraction and Fiducia Supplicans. In it, author Garrett D. Johnson writes:
One early morning in 2018, as I got ready to drive to Mass, I received a text message from a friend. When I saw the text message alert, I rolled my eyes; I knew what the message was likely about. This friend, in my estimation, was somewhat obsessed with the scandal revolving around then-Cardinal McCarrick and the accusations of long-term sexual abuse of both minors and adults. I opened the text and verified my suspicion. At this early hour of the morning, I thought to myself, this devout Catholic friend is not meditating on the readings for Mass or spending time in prayer, drawing closer to Jesus. Nor, perhaps, are they expending necessary effort to deal with their own habitual, sexual, and substance-related sins. I wanted to send a message saying, “Stop worrying about McCarrick and focus on what is good for your soul.” I have a similar response when I hear some of the ongoing complaints about Pope Francis.
My son A. told me the other day that for his Lenten sacrifice this year, he’s choosing to introduce silence into his life. He’ll be sacrificing all recreational screen time for those 40 days, including video games, social media, internet surfing, YouTube, Spotify for music, and so on. He’ll read books and bravely face the silence that our culture has forgotten how to handle.
I haven’t thought of my own Lenten sacrifice yet. Maybe I should do the same. Pray. Read. Meditate. Listen to good music. Go to bed early, get up early. Do what pleases God.
Thank you, Lord, for all your gifts, even if we can’t understand what they are (and even if they don’t look like gifts at all) when we receive them.
God bless you!
*Not his real name.
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> I haven’t thought of my own Lenten sacrifice yet.
This year priests started reminding us in homilies as early as January that "Lent is coming soon" and that we should think about this, but mulishly I refused to think about it and told God that He should pick for me (otherwise I have a tendency to activism.)