No Saints around Here: A Caregiver’s Days

Beige Lies, Pink Lies, Purple Lies

81 BEIGE LIES, PINK LIES, PURPLE LIES May 6 Iam tired of lying. I’ve never had a problem giving deceptive answers to questions like, Is my new haircut flattering? Do you think I need to lose weight? or What did he really say about me? White lies are quick and easy. I wish I didn’t have to lie so much, and with such calculation, about caregiving. Last Saturday after breakfast, I repacked all the groceries, books, DVDs, and other essentials that were to have lasted for a long weekend at our cottage in the woods. Load after load, I trundled them back to the car in our wheelbarrow. James had two terrible nights in a row, constantly waking and not knowing exactly what was happening. Nothing I could say or do soothed him back into sleep. Around 4:00 a.m. on the second night, I knew that in the morning I’d better get us home as soon as possible. If I had one more night like that, I knew I couldn’t drive safely for two hours on high-speed roads. As we headed out, I began wondering what I’d say to friends and family who knew how much I’d anticipated this spring weekend . They had heard about my longing to work in my untidy garden, to see violets and daffodils, to inspect the small reddish beige lies, pink lies, purple lies 82 promise of peonies pushing into the light, to mulch my paths for the season. I don’t have a garden in our small city lot. Now I would have to answer their queries. “And did you have a fabulous weekend? What perfect weather! You must have been out in your garden all the time!” This is what I’d really like to say about our weekend in the woods: “Actually, it was a nightmare. James was unaccountably awake most of two nights, very disturbed, incoherent. My home aide disappeared. Since I couldn’t leave James alone in the house, I wasn’t able to get out to my garden at all. “What I think troubled me more was knowing I might not be able to bring James here again. We have always loved this place so much. I wanted to burst into tears in the car, but I knew how that would upset him. “As I drove, aiming the car steadily for home, I was a woman on a mission. Get us home. But I yearned for my garden. It keeps me rooted. These days my roots are frayed and drying, like a plant a squirrel had dug up and abandoned. “We had endured such a hard winter. Saturday was so beautiful . But we had to leave.” If I had been truthful, I wouldn’t have just said all this. I think I would have yelled it, like a small child wanting to rage and stamp her feet. I do sometimes pour out such honest reactions to a very few close friends. I always feel better afterward. But to others, I consider my choice of lies. Mostly I pick the beige lie. This is a white lie with a shading of truth, enough to add a slight off tinge that suggests not everything was completely wonderful. Beige lies are useful for people who are asking out of politeness. They really don’t want details. They certainly don’t want to hear a long wail of discouragement. But they have taken the trouble to ask, and I take a little trouble to answer. beige lies, pink lies, purple lies 83 So I might say about our aborted weekend at the cottage, “Oh, yes, the weather was great. James had trouble sleeping, so we came home early. Great weather, though. Lovely sunshine.” For those closer friends or family who deserve more truth but who would be distressed if I let them know how searing the weekend was, I’ll produce a pink lie. A pink lie is darker than beige but adds a bit of rosiness at the end. So I’ll give a fuller response but end with, “Maybe I can get there again before too long. I have to figure that out.” (I don’t know how I’m going to figure that out.) Even when I’m almost telling the full truth, I often end up with a purple lie. A purple lie involves omissions that would saturate...