Someone out there, someone reading this column, is a saint. The saint won't recognize himself or herself by that name, but it's apropos and deserved.

That person is a caregiver.

Anyone who takes care of someone else is a caregiver, of course, such as any parent who takes care of children, but the long-term caregivers of children or adults who are ill, either physically or mentally, have an especically difficult commitment, no matter how much the caregiver loves the relative-turned-patient.

Caring for your parents is more common now, as longevity is also more common, with people in their 60s and 70s taking care of parents in their 90s, if it's not crucial for the parent to be in a nursing home. It also used to be common for three generations to live together in a home or on a farm, but people are more independent now, and taking in someone who needs caregiving is a change of lifestyle, keeping up with your own life while adding someone else's also.

And, sometimes, if the whole intergenerational family is involved, the contact between them may benefit all, not just the one needing the care. Along with the sadness, stress, and possible frustration that can occur sporadically, more love and understanding can be generated in a positive way with the closer contact. And it's OK, and understandable, to get angry, frustrated, or depressed. If it's a temporary thing, you just need to get back to being a good caregiver. If it's dragging you down too far, you need to ask for help for yourself, and to take a break, and maybe get some counseling. The caregiver has to be careful to be a caregiver to himself or herself, too, to continue being a good caregiver to someone else. There are many avenues of help available. Many books have been written to help with the day-to-day and year-to-year problems, there are support groups, and counselors at senior citizen centers. It's also wise to take a break to pursue your own pleasures, so you do need to get the proper help from other relatives, friends, or medical personnel.

And, sometimes, just talking and reminiscing with your loved one, if he, or she, can take it in and respond to you and enjoy the comradeship, will bring pleasure to both of you. They may be having a hard time allowing you to care for them, too, as it is a complete turnaround for them when it used to be their job to take care of you!

Although I was not able to be involved in the home care of my mother during her Alzheimer's disease, because of living in New Hampshire, as I wrote in my last column, I was blessed to have a brother in Massachusetts who attended to a lot of details for both parents, and then for my father when he got older. My other brother, who lives in Georgia, couldn't help much, like me, but he kept up with things through phone calls, and he also realized how hard it was to "not be there." He's been there for many in Georgia, though.

I was glad Dad could move up to New Hampshire to live with us his last couple of years when he needed help. He didn't have any kind of dementia, luckily, and only the last two months of his life was spent needing complete care, which I was glad to do. He could have gone to a nearby nursing home, but he certainly didn't want to, so I explained if he could stand the embarrassment of having me take complete care of him, since he was bedridden except being able to stand up next to the bed with help, turn, and sit in "his chair" which we had brought up from Attleboro, things would be fine. Especially since we also brought up his books, bookcases, and Lady, his golden retriever.

Luckily, the people who owned the motel before us had put in a door from their bedroom to a double room in the attached motel for their children. We used that room as my dad's living quarters, but we all got together for meals, sitting around, and going on outings until he was bedridden. Then we congregated in his room at times.

Although motel life is 24-7, there were lots of hours that we were there but not working, so Dad and I spent a lot of time talking, and sometimes taping, his reminiscences and thoughts. It was enjoyable for both of us, and he still had his sense of humor most of the time. The touching or somber things of his past were good for him to share. Many things I knew, and commiserated with him about, or laughed about. Some, especially about his childhood in Sweden, I didn't know, so it was enlightening.

Caregiving can often be a positive thing when it's done for and with love.

BETTY STEVENSON is a community columnist. Her commentary appears every other Monday.