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No Saints around
Here: A Caregiver’s Days
by Susan Allen Toth
c.2014, University of Minnesota Press
$16.95 / higher in Canada
215 pages
By Terri Schlichenmeyer
The Truth Contributor
It was supposed to be paradisiacal.
You’d planned it that way, in fact: the two of you, retired,
with time aplenty to travel, explore, garden, enjoy
yourselves. It was supposed to be good - until one of you
got sick and the other’s now a caregiver, a journey you
never wanted or expected but… there you are. And in the new
book No Saints around Here by Susan Allen Toth,
you’ll see that you’re not alone.
There were 15 years between Susan Allen Toth and her
husband, James.
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That’s not a lot of difference in age, really. It’s
certainly not enough to make anyone fret about a future full
of health issues, but that’s what arrived: while in his
mid-70s, James was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease.
“Parkie,” as they called it faux-casually, was initially
mild; James was a little clumsy and had slight tremors, and
they dealt with it. But then, his symptoms worsened: loss of
memory, slowness, dementia, and Toth became a spousal
caregiver, a member of an “ever-expanding club without
borders. ”
In her quest for books on the subject, Toth discovered that
few authors write “from the front lines.” Nothing, for
instance, indicated that she’d have to floss James’s teeth.
She wasn’t prepared for “absurdities” of life with an ill
husband or round-the-clock strangers ministering care. She
was surprised at friendships that fell away, and how new
“webs” knit themselves in help.
She began journaling and, in her entries, the word “time”
crops up repeatedly – mostly, because there was never
enough. Not enough time for herself (although, with paid
help, she was sometimes able to sneak away to their
Wisconsin cabin), not enough for day-to-day chores, and not
enough time with James.
“It is a terrible loss,” she said of no longer being able to
“slip into his bed.” She never expected to have to know
about incontinence care, “beige lies,” or nursing homes (she
kept James at home until the end). Snappiness wasn’t her
normal mien, but it happened. There was a “last Christmas”
and a pleasant surprise that accompanied hospice care. And,
says Toth, through it all, “I did the best I could.”
Pick up No Saints around Here and you’ll notice
something: holding it in your hands is like grasping a
half-pound of pure ache.
The truth, beautifully and brutally in real-time, is what
author Susan Allen Toth offers her readers, with entries
that span the 18-months before James died. Toth writes about
hands-on caretaking, but she also touches upon relief,
guilt, self-care, anger, and the whole-life dwindling that
comes with progressive illness. That bluntness and raw
honesty may shock some readers and it may make you gasp at
its audacity.
Then again, if you do, maybe this isn’t your book. Toth’s
words will give comfort to newly-minted caregivers who
aren’t sure what’s next, who aren’t sure what to do, who
don’t know what “normal” is anymore. This is a book for
those men and women, spouses and children – and if that’s
you, No Saints Around Here may be heaven-sent. |
