My New Job Title: Caregiver Hairdresser

Caregiver Warrior

My Mom was tough and we were both stubborn. It was rare that we had a calm easy conversation for a long period of time. Something would set us off and our polar opposite beliefs and views would clash and the fur would fly. She could really be sarcastic and condescending which never brought out the best in me. I can say now that we were probably too much alike, stubborn, opinionated and bossy!

When my Mom began showing signs of dementia I stepped in to help. I won’t say I didn’t think twice because in true fashion she gave me a hard time immediately claiming she didn’t need my help with anything. However, it was the next right thing to do to show up for her and I moved forward with my commitment.

My Mom was always decked out in full makeup with her nails and hair done and always dressed to the nines. I can still see her applying red nail polish at the last minute every time she went out. I learned to pretend we were due at least an hour before the scheduled appointment just to get there on time.

Her hair became a major issue as her disease progressed since she always colored and set it herself (going to a hairdresser was not an option in her opinion)!

She became unable to handle the process herself but still wanted it done. The feelings that this brought up for me taught me a very powerful lesson about my relationship with my mom and myself.

It was more important to put aside my differences with my Mom than it was to see her depressed or concerned about the way she looked. I took it upon myself to become her hairdresser no matter how difficult that process would be. We established a ritual that continued until she died. I would shampoo and shower her and then apply color when needed and then set and dry her hair. Does anyone remember pink rollers with teeth in them? Yup, that’s what she used. They were probably from the 60’s. Aqua-net anyone?

Hairstyling afternoon became a time to hang out together and although none of this was my forte I managed to do a pretty good job and she was so delighted every time I did it. She loved music and the blues and in the beginning, when the stimulus was not too much, I would put on Dr. John and she would dance in her chair. We would talk about old memories and I had a particular story about my Mom, my Nana and a next store neighbor and how they would pluck each other’s eyebrows on the summer porch and catch up on all the neighborhood news!

She loved that story and it was always good for a laugh. What a miracle! If you had told me when I was younger that I would be doing my Moms hair with patience, love, and compassion (most of the time) I would have told you that you were out of your mind and it was not going to happen. Ever.

Who knew our lives and roles would change so drastically and through a simple gesture of wanting to make her happy and comfortable I would let go of old resentments and become a better person and kinder daughter.

I’m sure she felt and knew how much I loved her but this experience we shared allowed me to show her how much I cared about her.  She seemed truly grateful.

The payoff was heavenly. I can still see my Dad’s face and smile when my Mom would walk back in the TV room with her hair cut, colored and set. “Man!” he would say, “you look like a million bucks! Boy oh boy, you did some great job!” And then they would both beam at me. Man! I was one lucky Caregiver Warrior Hairdresser!