How being a skilled queen bee prepared me for Parkinson’s caregiving

The setting in Sedona, Arizona, was spectacular, with pink sandstone formations surrounding the guest house where my 40-something daughter, Lynn, and I were staying for six days in September 2024. We were there to participate in a spiritual growth retreat led by a therapist I admired. 

On the first day, each of the 10 participants was asked to share her goal for our time together. Most mentioned things like reducing stress or learning to forgive. My goal? “I want to learn how not to hate my husband because he is sick.”

Immediately, Lynn began to cry as I told the group about my husband David’s 20 years with early-onset Parkinson’s disease. I did not cry. I spoke calmly, despite Lynn’s unexpected reaction and my concern for her. I was truly unaware of how much Dave’s illness affected her, even though she, a Pennsylvanian, lived far away from our Florida home and did not witness our daily routines and challenges.

Through the initial sharing, we established a sense of trust, and the process began to reveal more about ourselves and our challenges. We journaled, worked on arts-and-crafts projects to chart a timeline of significant life events, shared stories around a fire pit, and hiked to destinations renowned as vortexes of energy. I didn’t notice the special energy, but I did feel my spirit relax during the time away from my daily responsibilities. I remained open-hearted to the process underway. Lynn felt similarly.

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A helpful insight

I was surprised by a simple writing exercise, in which we were asked these questions: “What is the strongest animal? Which of its qualities can I use in my life right now?” Naturally, I thought of elephants, yet that response did not speak to me. As sometimes happens when I have journaled in the past, my pen set off on its own path, somewhat detached from conscious thought, yet still my writing. What is the strongest animal? My answer: the queen bee.

When my turn came, I read aloud to the group what I had written. “She commands, and it is done. She is the CEO of the hives and all the worker bees. She churns out eggs nonstop and oversees the food production. She is alone but not lonely. She rocks! Be the queen bee. It’s OK to be in charge, alone, but not lonely this time.”

I knew down to my toes that this was the truth for me. It has been an invaluable insight. I had always called myself the queen bee in my work as a parish pastor. Pastors need to juggle multiple responsibilities at the same time. I was a preacher, teacher, worship leader, counselor, administrator, hospital visitor, sometime janitor, youth worker, singer, fundraiser, and meeting leader. I always strived to do all that with a cheerful heart. Lynn agreed with my self-assessment and was pleased with my new wisdom.

Undoubtedly, the ding-ding-ding bells rang in my head. I already knew how to be a queen bee!

I could be the queen bee with Dave as we manage life with Parkinson’s disease together. Since his diagnosis, I have taken on increasing responsibilities and more than once felt the crush of one more thing as his disease progressed.

I usually make all phone calls because he cannot speak loudly enough or think quickly enough to respond to callers on the other line. I am now the computer and tech person in our house, and have had to learn how to operate new technology (which is, at times, maddening). Dave did that previously because his career was in programming. We laugh at the irony when I teach him how to do something on his computer. As a passenger and supposed navigator, Dave cannot manage a smartphone map or use GPS in the car (also maddening when I am lost). I am the chauffeur, the chief cook, and the bottle washer. Dave does do laundry, good guy that he is.

Prior to this insight, I would have complained, usually in front of the bathroom mirror or out on a walk where I could cuss and sigh and shake my fist at fate. Every once in a while, a new challenge might trigger a full-out meltdown of sobbing, which I know is a necessary outlet for my spirit.

However, I am pleased to acknowledge that since my discernment that I am already a skilled queen bee, my complaining has lessened. I am more peaceful, able to live in the moment without projecting doom onto an unknown future. Instead, I say, “You are a queen bee. You are strong. You rock. You can handle this.” And I do. I regularly utter positive affirmations to myself, which feeds this queen bee the honey she needs.

Note: Parkinson’s News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Parkinson’s News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Parkinson’s disease.