The beauty of life is it can sway you in any direction.
At seventeen years of age, I turned into a parent. After my father’s death, I had to take up some of the manly responsibilities as guided by cultural values. That is where my caregiver journey began.
Born in a family of two with a younger sibling, I had to fend for the family as my mother was a housewife and had to stay back home to look after my sister. My younger sister was born with a condition that required constant medication, special meals and visits to the hospital. In totality, it was very draining financially and mentally to my mother and I. The battle of balancing teenhood and a merge into adulthood was overwhelming for me but luckily, I did not get submerged into substance abuse. As time went by, I finished high school and needed to pursue further education at the university. Just when I was about to enrol into University, my mother was admitted at a national hospital leaving all responsibilities to me to take care of my sister and cater for my mothers’ bills and needs in the hospital. Call it double caregiving.
Slowly by slowly I was being turned into this sluggish tired beast with anger management issues, a working machine, the last man standing. The extended family just watched as I struggled to hold on to every loose knot as the walls crumbled on me. The society around me said, “he’s a man, he’s all grown now, he can handle things”. At that moment I could barely breathe, arms raised and drowning amid onlookers who cheered on.
Fast forward, after a long illness, my mother passed on having drained me mentally and me still trying to hold things together. By then I was already getting used to acting the part of a parent to my sister. My dad had already pre-deceased mum by two years so I was truly alone with the full-time responsibility of caring for a sister with a handicap.
I loved my sister to death and swore to myself to sacrifice just about anything to give her a life I saw my parents struggle to give her. A normal life with all basic needs. I missed out on education, missed out on social life and a lot more. Don’t get me misquoted I regret little about that.
Five years later I had mastered the art of handling a woman’s needs, communication cues, hygiene issues, menstrual cycles and a lot more all thanks to a chance to mingle with a beautiful young soul. In between the five years, I got shattered and fell into a wild depression that was detected by a stranger who referred me to a professional who worked with me through my issues and restored a sense of being in me. I was on the verge of collapse having being swallowed by too much of ‘everything’ and self-questioning of the care I was giving selflessly.
Even a beautiful story has an end. Mine, unfortunately, ends with my sisters’ demise. There are questions I would want to ask. My bottom line is that I know is it was all worthwhile, it was purposeful and I learnt a lot in it. I now care for myself more, I care for the world, I care for beings.
Life is like a flower, with the right amount of sunshine and rain it blossoms, with an excess of either and it withers or rots.
Chege,
Former Caregiver
Current Student and entrepreneur.
Oooh my, so emotional and with a lesson…yeah surely life is a flower…