Wrinkles And A Rose
You may think that I am referring to the new wrinkles on my face which have emerged after caring for Hubby with memory loss over the past ten years. Wrong.
Observing Hubby’s wardrobe, delicately placed (by me) on plastic hangers to dry without shrinkage, the wrinkles catch my attention. Cotton is the most comfortable summer fabric to wear. It breathes when synthetics do not. But cotton wrinkles when washed. Such an inconvenience.
When Hubby was a fashion designer and later when we were in retail, selling European couture textiles, we both would have rather perished from the face of this earth than leave home with a wrinkle on a garment we were wearing. Hubby’s custom-made shirts for his large shoulders and small waist, had dramatic collars and French cuffs. The Chinese laundry on our street was under strict instructions to starch the collar and cuffs but not the body. No wrinkles for hubby. His shirts were delivered on hangers, not folded. We had standards. Our appearance mattered. It was a matter of pride. A matter of importance.
(Confession time: I really do not know if it is politically incorrect to call a Chinese laundry “Chinese,” these days. But it really was. Three generations of the same family worked together, down the street from our designer fabric store adjacent to Beverly Hills, and the quality of their work was impeccable. They were proud of their culture, and their product. It seems that should be acceptable by anyone’s standards!)
(Second confession: As I was writing “adjacent to Beverly Hills” I had to laugh to myself, remembering Jackie Mason’s 1986 Award winning, one- man show with his routine about how everyone in Los Angeles claims that they live either next to, adjacent to, yards from, very close to, or on the border of, Beverly Hills. He was absolutely correct. Heaven forbid someone would think that we lived or had a business downtown Los Angeles in the ‘80s! Our store really was one block from where the borders of Hollywood, Beverly Hills and Los Angeles merged. I still remember being in pain from the laughter at his “one-man-show,” when he hit the nail on our heads! Jackie was a delight and I miss his humor.)
Today instead of wearing Italian silk suits, Hubby is donned in coordinated sweat-suits, jersey tops with matching cotton pants. These days everything in Hubby’s daytime wardrobe must be washable. Hence, the wrinkles.
When I was a good wife, in years gone by, the ironing board was at the ready. Neither my clothes or Hubby’s would see the light of day without a touch up. Now I observe the wrinkles, and spend a few minutes rationalizing exactly why they do not matter:
I am not going to see anyone I know today…
I am only going to the grocery store…
The doctor won’t mind….
Didn’t someone say that wrinkles are fashionable now…?
No one else is ironing all their wrinkles away. Why should I?
In all fairness, I do not kid myself that wrinkles are chic. I would never have worn linen in years past because it wrinkled. So, what has changed?
Everything. Caring for a loved one with memory decline, is totally demanding. There are no extra moments for ironing even the worst wrinkle. Easier to put the garment aside for later. Later is when I will have a block of free time with nothing else to do but luxuriate at the ironing board.
Luxuriate is usually associated with bubble baths or health spas. No time or inclination for either these days. Friends do suggest that I treat myself to a weekend at a spa, but then there are so many other things I would rather be doing; films, theater, fine dining, lectures, or making the dozens of pieces of jewelry which I have designed but cannot find time to complete.
Wardrobe wrinkles are actually symptomatic of the greater wrinkles of life. When hit with responsibilities never imagined, the standards we once thought were life-enhancing, begin to fall by the wayside.
Individuals caring for a loved one with any form of dementia are quite simply overwhelmed from morning to night. They are frequently without support from their own family members who avoid facing how difficult the responsibility is for the spouse, the adult child, or parent caring for their loved one. Caregivers are often drowning under the responsibilities, whether it is caring for someone with a physical illness such as cancer, stroke, kidney or heart disease, emotional illness, or dementia. No one comes to these responsibilities with a magic wand that makes the experience even remotely manageable.
The caregiver’s new priorities are: doctors, medications, hospitals, appointments, food, finances, house supplies, home or car repairs, bureaucracy, paying bills, and first and foremost answering the physical and emotional needs of their loved one 24/7. It might come as no surprise then, that a wrinkled shirt or dress might just remain as such!
Life has wrinkles. No one warned us. They (with a capital T) do say that They “never promised us a rose garden…” but They never told us that our wardrobe would suffer as well!
The next time you see someone you know who has a loved one with dementia or who is caring for someone with another demanding condition, either offer to do their ironing, or hand them a rose (from the garden they were never promised), with a generous hug. Either would be a grand gesture earning you extra points in the world to come!
