I’m Dancing Too
I remember the first time I met our caregiver, Michelle, during a hiring event in our office. Generally speaking, there’s a moment during initial interviews where you move past the basics and the pleasantries and get a peek at who the person really is. This is crucial, for us–all the credentials and work experience in the world mean nothing without real heart, real dedication to the great work of caring. This event was busy–a few folks waiting outside for their turn, lots of chatter filtering through the office, and I was doing my best to make sure I spent enough one-on-one time with each individual to have that vital moment of understanding.
I could tell Michelle was a little nervous, so I broke the ice by telling her more about our office’s mission and a (HIPAA compliant!) story about one of our long-term clients, who I speak to weekly and sometimes daily. This client was one of my first intakes as a client relations specialist, and I will never forget it: the way she welcomed us into her home, offered us clementines from a fresh box by the door, and the tear she shed as we left while thanking us for coming by (I’ve stopped by many times since–and I must mention, she gives the best bakery recommendations in Brooklyn). Michelle responded with a story too, about a client she’d lost and really missed, and I saw clearly then that she cared just as profoundly as I did.
All at once, I felt the wall that exists between strangers who meet for the first time break down; a moment of relief, for her and myself, when we realized at the same time that our missions in work and life were parallel. I remember this vividly not only because Michelle has gone on to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that this first impression was the right one, but because it was one of the most poignant of those particular moments I’ve had. I looked into her eyes and saw the truth at the center of what we do: This job is not easy, but it is incredibly important, somebody’s got to do it, and that somebody is us.
Among all of the joys and rewarding moments that come with providing services in the home care business, it would be remiss not to touch on the emotional hardships that are inevitable components of those moments, especially during mental health awareness month. To be clear–most of those hardships stem from positive emotions. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that joy is a risk, and it’s the most worthwhile risk we’re ever faced with. Without joy, without connection, grief would be impossible. When I encourage caregivers to bond with their clients (caregivers like Michelle–honestly, most of our caregivers–I don’t even need to encourage), I know that means I’m also asking them to be vulnerable. There are few jobs that compare, whether you’re a family caregiver or a healthcare employee, especially for clients who may be in palliative or hospice care. Before starting in home care, I really couldn’t understand how anyone could stand to do it for work; how do you navigate those feelings, leave your worries at the door, and show up so professionally every day? But I understand now there is a feeling that supersedes that fear of potential loss: a fundamental sense of duty coupled with an intrinsic respect for life, in all its stages.
So, what do we do with all of these dichotomic emotions? It might seem trite or foolish to say it, but it’s vital to have some fun. That’s a broad term, but an important one. I’m not talking about a night out or a Six Flags day trip, either. Fun can mean anything from a day in the park to an hour in the sun on a front stoop to recounting an old story, or, in my aforementioned client’s case, listening to Bobby Rydell’s “Wild One” on repeat. She called me the other day after she’d had a difficult week, frustrated at her constant exhaustion. I assured her I understood (sleep is a hot commodity in the city that rarely does) and that I was proud of her for getting out of bed everyday, regardless. She perked up and asked me: “Wait, do you know Bobby Rydell? Wild One? It’s my favorite song, and my girl plays it for me all the time.” I didn’t, but I found the track on my phone and put it up to the speaker on the office landline. Despite our early morning weariness, I could feel us both start to sway, taken by the uplifting cadence. “I’m dancing, Mary Lou,” I laughed into the phone. She said back through a smile I could hear: “I’m dancing, Rio. I’m dancing too.”
-By Rio Calais, Client Relations Specialist
Whether your loved one needs assistance only a few hours a week or around-the-clock, our team is happy to help! Call (347) 462-9001 to learn more about the transition care services offered through ComForCare Home Care (Brooklyn North, NY).
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