a guest post written by Presley Kappana
While everyone’s caregiving journey is different, many people become caregivers later in life; but my journey started sooner than expected.
Growing up in rural Wisconsin, my grandmother was not only my guardian but my best friend. We did everything together from snowshoeing to banana bread baking, and I attribute the person I am today to her unconditional love, care, and compassion.
Walks in the prairie and woods behind our farmhouse served as an outdoor classroom where I learned about life, nature, and love.
Her favorite plant was the coneflower, and their beautiful slender petals populated the landscape like dandelions in the city. Grandma would tell me, ““act as if the petals are your propeller, lifting you towards your goals.” I learned almost as much from nature as I did from grandma. Many valuable life lessons came from spending time in the woods together.
She was the honorary neighborhood grandma, caring for children and families that needed a helping hand. Our house was an open pantry and our door never locked, teaching me to give what you can and help when needed.
Letters of Love
My grandpa was quite a bit older than my grandma and ran into health problems when I was 10. Watching my grandma selflessly care for him as his health declined was influential for me, demonstrating the power of family, caring, and unconditional love.
My grandfather was an intellectual and used words as his sword. He wrote many letters to my grandma, even as his health declined, and I learned early on the power of words; spoken and written. Grandma taught me words can be wielded for good or evil, and every writer holds the power to decide which side prevails.
After my grandpa’s passing, I would sometimes walk in on my grandma reading the letters he had written her. Not only recent ones but letters dating back to when they first met in the 1940’s. There was a wide variety; letters with pictures, letters on postcards, letters on the back of paintings. Letters on letters on letters, all compiled in gently worn wooden trunks that made the letters smell of the rich mahogany they were encased in.
The letters helped re-center my grandma when life got tough and reminded her of the genuine love and connection she and my grandpa had shared.
Little did I know writing cards and letters would become an important piece of both of our lives.
From Caring to Cared For
When I was about 18, I started to notice changes in Grandma. She began to be forgetful, beyond the usual forgetfulness associated with getting older, along with sometimes becoming rash and less thoughtful. Although it was alarming, the emotions and behaviors would come in bursts, only to disappear as quickly as they appeared, and she would revert to the sharp and vibrant lady I knew so well.
One day I came home to an unattended stove that had flames licking the ceiling above it, something unheard of from the lady who might as well have been the creator of the term “cross your t’s and dot your i’s”.
Thankfully, I arrived in time to off the stove and extinguish the flames, but as smoke billowed around the doors and filled the hallway, I was left wondering what was happening to her.
After more mishaps, uncharacteristic behavior, and general confusion I decided we needed to get a professional opinion. After a visit to her general practitioner and then a specialist, it was determined that grandma was suffering from dementia.
We struggled to cope with the realization that the women who needed nothing and gave everything were suffering from a silent assailant, one no one could not see or stop.
The Grandma I knew as fearless and cavalier was now fearful, but not for herself, but for her family.
Classic grandma, worrying about everyone but herself.
After we were given a definitive diagnosis, we worked toward making her as safe and comfortable as we could at home, since at least we knew the beast we were up against.
Our family took turns staying with her, so she was never alone and always had the best care possible. Any outburst or rude comment she made rolled off our shoulders since we knew it was not grandma speaking, it was her disease.
After a few years of in-home care, her needs started to become too much for us to handle alone. Making sure she was never alone was a tall task and was becoming increasingly more difficult as our own life commitments mounted.
New Beginnings
Two years ago, we made the impossible decision to move grandma into an assisted living facility specifically designed for memory care residents. The transition was much more painful than I had anticipated but knowing she was headed to a wonderful place where she would be around other seniors and cared for by lovely staff made it easier to bear.
The facility was an hour from our home, so we visited her at least once a week, bringing her trinkets and snacks, reading books, and taking her out for dinner and butterscotch ice cream, her favorite.
She became fast friends with residents, staff, and animals, such as a kind old tabby cat named Charlie, who was especially fond of her.
Grandma adjusted well to her new home with only a few bumps and hiccups along the way. We took comfort in knowing we were only an hour away.
Until the pandemic.
The New Normal
Once Covid-19 visitation restrictions went into place, grandma’s emotional health went into the gutter. She’s an extremely sociable person who feeds off others’ positive energy, especially her family.
The unexpected isolation plunged her into a deep depression, and due to dementia, she struggled to grasp the scope and gravity of the pandemic, making it especially hard for her to reason why we couldn’t see her anymore.
As I watched her spiral, I felt powerless to as how I could help. But I thought back to my youth and her reading letters from my grandpa.
Filling the Void
I began sending Grandma handwritten cards adorned with beautiful designs and pictures. I wrote about everything from daily occurrences to memories from the past, allowing us to stay connected while apart.
While we would still talk on the phone, she would often call back minutes after hanging up exclaiming that we hadn’t spoken, failing to remember our call from minutes before.
The cards offered something tangible that she could grasp and reread, reminding her that she was anything but alone.
After the cards started arriving, not only did my family and I notice a transformation within her, but her care staff did as well. They attributed the change to “all the darn cards” she had been receiving and plastering about her room.
After seeing the impact on her, I started to include other residents at her facility in the mailings as well, and their spirits started to lift one card a time.
Do on To Others as You Would Do on To You
I could not ignore the profound change the cards were making within Grandma’s community and set out to do the same for others.
Cards and handwritten notes seem to be the love language of the elderly and I have witnessed firsthand how something as simple as a carefully crafted cards can make someone happier, healthier, and feel more appreciated.
Senior loneliness was already an epidemic before Covid-19, but it only has been exacerbated due to the current reality. In trying to protect seniors physically, we seem to have let their emotional health fall to the wayside, but mailing cards is one way of trying to rectify it.
As caregivers, we have enough on our plates, but taking the time out to write a handwritten card can make all the difference.
In attempting to do my part, I created Cards for Grandma, a service that crafts and mails bespoke handwritten cards to seniors on a regular basis. Please join us in ending senior loneliness, one card at a time.
Thank you to all caregivers who are learning and growing as we weather the Covid storm, together.
To learn more about Presley Kappana’s cards visit cardsforgrandma.com or email caring@cardsforgrandma.com.
