Olivia cares for her father

Olivia Worthington, 2019

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Name of Caregiver: Olivia Worthington and Elsie Parker

Care Recipient: James C. Gatling

The Back Story

Prior to assuming the role of caregiver for my father, I worked for Hertford County Public Schools. I retired June 2011 to care for my father as he was became increasingly ill due to prostate cancer. He, daddy, also had cancer on his appendix. The entire journey is still vivid and very painful to talk about. It was so bad to watch.

Daddy was strong and stayed physically strong for so long. I loved my daddy. I followed him and we were close. My father was a farmer for years and he retired. When he farmed, I helped him to feed the animals, and even drove the tractor. I had to because no one else would do it. You know, other than daddy, I was the first in my family to drive. I changed tires (laughing) and drove mules. I did a lot of things. I learned a lot of things from him. I guess, that is why his painful life and eventual death has hit me so hard. I was first to drive in my family. Prior to cancer he was driving. He drove until 97 years of age, and decided to surrender his license. I was so glad that I did not have to do it. Driving was one means of maintaining his sense of dignity and independence. I remembered, one day, when on my way to work I followed him so no one would hit him or run him off the road. James Gatling was not going to speed. Afterwards, I would carry him places he needed to go. This was mostly on the weekend. Then we got the news that my father had cancer.

The Journey

The cancer took a fierce toll on his body. You know, I am not sure he knew he had cancer. He only expressed discomfort about the pain he was in, but never said he had cancer. It came to a point where I had to bathe him and care for the catheter. That was hard, especially with me being a woman. But he did not want anyone else to do this. I guess he trusted me and felt that I would always respect him, and I did. The difficulty was that I knew my father was proud, private, and strong. Now, he was dependent on others to do for him what he normally did for himself. This was quite a blow for him to allow anyone to bathe him. (Crying). My sister and I cared for my father for about two plus years before hospice entered in. He stayed bed ridden five days due to not eating. Hospice was called in on the end. They brought in a special bed for him, and within two days he died. Hospice was called because he could not stand to be touch. They began to administer morphine. The cancer was a day of doom. He had cancer for so long, and I watched him deteriorate. In 2016 the cancer took a fiercer toll on my father. It had spread to his appendix.

I was the primary one to take him to the doctors. I never left his side while at the hospital or in the exam room. He always wanted me to give the decisions and advice to him about his health, finances, and many other things. For instance, when he had surgery on his appendix. He asked me, “What should I do?” He ended up having the surgery. I always went to the doctor with him. My father said Olivia you ain’t suppose to be in here. I said that I ain’t leaving. I knew, with a limited education and understanding, daddy could not understand what the doctors would tell him. I needed to be there to hear this information. I had to remember most that I could.

My father never admitted he had cancer to himself. He would hurt badly. One day the surgeon said they did not want father to ever go under anesthesia or surgeries. Prior to my arrival at the hospital, the surgeons and anesthesiologist at Norfolk Sentara put him under anesthesia and threatened to tie him down because he was so erratic. I explained all medical reports to him. Even in this instance, I had to console him so that the medical staff could treat him. I kept him comfortable and preferred he did not know about the cancer because I could not trust that he would not have committed suicide.

During the journey, I took care of most of his business when he got sick. For many reasons that I choose not to share right now, my experience was very tiresome and grueling. My father was so independent that he had the wisdom and intellect (without a formal education) to have all of his business in order. What am I saying? My daddy was a blessing to me in that I never needed to worry about burial expenses or any other living expenses for him. The only thing I needed to do was to remain faithful to God, to my earthly father, and show integrity in all my ways. That I did even after he closed his eyes and left me. Sadly, I never got to say a final good-bye, but I believe that is what my daddy wanted. My sister, Elsie, and I were at the family home the night daddy passed. He kept coughing. I thought he was catching a cold. I went to check on him, and noticed that he was not breathing. Elsie was in disbelief, but he had slipped away so quickly and peacefully. He died so easy, but it was hard on me. (crying) I became depressed and confined myself to the house and bed for nearly two months. I think I needed to see a psychiatrist, but I did not. I prayed and I am coming through it.

Further, as his caregiver, I stayed by his side constantly. My whole life was confined to caring for daddy. Thank God for a supportive and understanding husband. He did not complain about me making the choice to care for daddy or giving much of my time to him. I think I would have cracked under the pressure of it all had my husband failed to not be there for me. This was by far the darkest experience in my life, and he along with Elsie were my strongest allies. I was not prepared to deal with it (his death). I still have difficulty talking about his death. Time, however, has helped me and I much more comfortable talking about the situation. So, needless to say, I had limited support. I learned to accept help, though, whenever offered. Daddy was insistent that I remain by his side. That I did for him and never regrets having made that decision.

I feel this ordeal took a lot out of me physically, mentally, and emotionally.  I still have my moments, but like I said I am getting better. I can now come out of my house and mingle with others. I am to a point where the old Olivia will stand toe-to-toe and head-to-head and inform anyone (family, friend, or foe) what I will do and cannot do without regrets. For those that supported me I learned to say thank you. For those who chose to not support me, I learned to forgive them. Forgetting what was done is not an option. I am not bitter, but more sharpened to deal with hurt and let downs.

Through this journey, I realized that I had to do something for me to survive. I read and painted. I became an avid reader. My daughter ordered me e-books and hard print. I was reading a book per day. I was wearing FedEx out child. The reading relieved me and I came out of my depression. I now drive and I am beginning to enjoy life and living without daddy again. I am free to do other things now. Counseling is still an option. I am now communicating with family more. You either learn to rise above stuff or drown in IT. (You know that is the stuff that stinks). I chose to rise.

The Outcome

I learned: the importance of never giving up on a sick person. Love them. I did not give up on daddy even though  I knew he was dying. Also, I learned how to appreciate others and that some people really cared. I had a beautiful person in Melinda with Hospice. She was supportive. I learned what hurt is due to loss of a love one. It was rough with me. Hospice came in the last two months of daddy’s life. They would administer morphine to comfort him. I, too, learned how to administer it to him. I struggled, but did all I could as the daughter of James C. Gatling to provide quality care for a man that I honored and adored.

The Lesson

My feelings are so mixed feelings I cannot share this. I will say caregiving is very hard, and is like no other job in the world. God has truly gifted people to care for others and not abuse the role or privilege. One difference for me that I had the support of my husband. I cannot imagine the fatigue and pain of those who go at this alone. I will say that you need help, and encourage you to seek help quickly. Do not feel guilty about asking for help. There is no manner of complete preparation for this ministry, but any advice-paperwork-tips from those who are doing this or have done it far outweighs mere words from those who have not travelled this path.

God bless you.

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