I don’t remember where I left off in my last post. My husband had undergone five operations for a knee replacement. It was a long haul, but finally in March 2021, I started to let him drive. Yes, it was up to me. It was so nice to see him being able to go on his own. He was driving himself to therapy. He even went to the store a few times and brought home dinner (going through the drive thru, of course). I had a few hours to myself (finally!). Things were getting back to a normal routine. And then it happened!!!
Last Thursday on April Fool’s Day it was raining. Donald was to go to therapy that day. I asked him a hundred times if he wanted me to drive him. I was worried about his truck sliding in the rain...maybe he couldn’t put enough pressure on the brake pedal to stop. He insisted he could drive himself but I had an underlying feeling I should take him. But he said no and my wanting a few hours to myself kicked in and so I let him go out on his own. That was a huge mistake.
So husband walked out the front door. I was watching tv and crocheting. Then my cellphone rings. It’s him. “Can you come out to the truck? I need some help.” Okay, I thought. I looked out the window. He was sitting in his truck with his legs on the ground. That’s weird. I get my coat on, go outside. I look down at his feet. I looked up at him. He says, “look at my foot. It’s not straight.” Yeah, I noticed that when I looked at hit. I asked him, “did you fall?” He said, “I slipped.” I said, “you broke your ankle.” His food was parallel to his body. And immediately I knew hell had arrived again. It couldn’t have been raining any harder. We were getting soaked. “I have to call the ambulance,”. I said. There was no way I could get him into my car to take him to the hospital. So I went into the house to use the house phone. I called 911. The had me on hold for about four minutes....unreal! When I finally gave them all my info, I went back outside to wait with husband. And we waited and waited and waited...good grief, where are they?? After about 10 minutes, I dialed my local fire department to see if they had been dispatched yet. As soon as I dialed the number husband said, ‘here they come.” And that began our road to hell again. Or mainly, my road to hell.
Maybe this post is a pitiful me story. I just know that my life has been taking care of family and hospitals. Going back to my teen years, I didn’t really have to take care of my grandma, but we did do a lot of things for her. My grandfather had died and my grandma broke her hip. My mom did the best she could for grandma, but eventually, she had to live in a home. I would drive over to the home to get grandma for holidays at mom’s house or go visit grandma.
Then mom got sick. She got diabetes and heart disease. She had heart attacks and bypass surgery. Sometimes I would take her to her doctor appointments. At this point in my life I was married. In February 1981, my mom had bypass heart surgery. My aunt came from Florida to take care of her. My dad was working so it was hard on him. Then in March 1981 while my mom was recovering, husband fell off a ladder at work and broke his left hip. I had a 1 year old and a 6 month old I was taking care of. Then I had husband to take care of. That was a long haul.
In 1983 my daughter started complaint of stomach pains. We had her at Children’s Hospital every night for weeks. They couldn’t find anything wrong with her. Long story short, I had the pediatrician test her for cystic fibrosis and she tested positive. That was devastating. Knowing my baby had a fatal disease was unbearable. She had to have checkups every sick weeks, hospitals stays, home therapy..but I did it because she was my baby. She died in 1992 when she was 12 years old.
Husband started shaving ulcers on his toes/feet that would never stop bleeding. He would get infections and have to be hospitalized. Eventually he had his toes amputated. Then he’d get another ulcer. He even had to go into a decompression chamber to heal one.
And in 2017 husband broke his knee. I think I made a post about that, but it’s been a nightmare. Hospitalizations, home ivs, bedridden, therapy...for over four years, non stop. So you ca probably see why when he finally got to drive it was wonderful. But that was short lived.
So now in April of 2021, here we are again. He broke his ankle in three places and dislocated it. He has a halo thing around it and is bedridden again. And so all the chores of taking care of the house/yard, the pets, the cleaning, the painting, the repairs are back on my shoulders.
And that is why my health is going downhill so fast. Everyday I feel I’m falling deeper and deeper into a pit that I will never come back from. I keep trying to get up everyday and continue on, but it’s so very hard when this has been your life basically....and I just wanna escape from it. Where’d I go and what I would do is beyond me. But this life is no fun.
A hug would be nice from someone. Just to validate that I am doing a good job. Some encouragement would be appreciated, too. That’s all I really want.
I am glad it is spring. I can sit outside on the porch. It gets me away from the ‘hospital room’ in the basement where the patient waits to be feed. I just hope that God will say I was a good and faithful servant, but even that worries me that I haven’t done enough. I know grace isn’t given because of work, but I still feel like I don’t measure up. I try, then I failed and I throw in the towel. I ask myself what is the use? How many times can a person keep trying??
I better go check on my patient.
Blessings!
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