By far, one of the greatest frustrations I have as a caregiver is that I have no control over what I want to do and when I want to do it. I am sitting here so frustrated at this moment that I can hardly think straight.
Today is July 4, my day off. However, I actually planned to work today to catch up on some projects at work that I REALLY need to do. I had my plans all straight but here it is 4 pm and I have not done anything I planned to do. I could cry.
I took some “me” time last night from midnight to 2 a.m. to watch a movie I rented from Blockbuster (been trying for a week to even be able to put it in the DVD player). BIG MISTAKE. It never pays to take “me” time. I always regret it later. So anyway, I took the time to watch a movie; afterward waking Lynn for his dinner (yeah, I know we have weird schedules), fed him, did his night routine and then mine, so I got to bed at 3:30 a.m. Up again at 5, 7, and 9 (Lynn thinking it was 10. He seems to think he’s my personal alarm clock and heaven forbid I just be allowed to sleep till I wake up on a day off!) to cath him. I go back to bed to sleep till 10 so I get 5 3/4 hours of sleep (15 min per cath event). Getting up at 10, of course, makes me late getting started but I figure, we have nothing special we have to do today, I’ll easily get started by 1 with what I need to do.
Then the day precedes to be shot to h___. I do the morning prep work while he does his vocal exercises. I take him to the bathroom and it doesn’t go as expected. He has to use suppositories due to limited muscle strength and it didn’t “come back” as it should. That means disaster. Now we’re waiting in the bathroom and he decides he needs to pee (why couldn’t he have gone before we go the bathroom–yeah that doesn’t make sense to you unless you know that the cath supplies are in the bedroom, not the bathroom). I finish that, get him cleaned up and then he announces he wants to sit in his manual wheelchair (he’s trying to toughen up his butt in hopes he can tolerate the cushion in that chair and maybe go to church again day). That means rearranging various pieces of equipment to get the manual chair out of that room and putting him on it instead of the power chair. That done, we go to the kitchen for his morning pills.
In the kitchen, he takes his meds and decides he wants me to put weights on his wrist to work his arms. That done, I turn to begin preparing my meal….no wait…. he needs me to help him with his arm exercises. I do that, then take off the weights, and begin to get ready to take him back to his room. No wait….”I want to do pull downs in the weight room,” he announces.
I again go to the weight room (which I had just rearranged to get the manual wheelchair out), rearrange it again to get it ready for him, and back I go to the kitchen to get him. I roll him to the weight room and help him do the pull-down work out and then take him to the bedroom to set up the massager for his feet. I then go to start my breakfast (two hours after I get up) and eat. While eating I prepare mushrooms for roasting, and cook spinach for his diet; also make his soup for lunch. As I finish, I hear, “Sweetie, come back. I need to go to the bathroom again.” Large GROAN.
With a sagging heart, I go and take him back to the bathroom (remember, I only do manual lifts so I’m physically lifting him in and out of these wheelchairs and onto the toilet). He “goes” and then says he might as well lie down awhile so I roll him to his bed. “Oh, yeah, I want to do push-ups.” Seriously???
I get out the PVC work-out pipes that I insert under his mattress (out of the weight room, of course) and help him do push-ups. Then I settle him down for a nap (put his pants on him again, cath him, put his boots on him so his feet don’t cramp, get the TV set for viewing, wash his face, and straighten up the room.)
While he’s down for a nap, I am just finished cooking what I put on while eating, washing the dishes, and doing a load of laundry when I hear, “I’m ready to get up.” I get him re-dressed, hook him up to his peddler, hear “I’m hungry,” so I feed him breakfast and as I finish feeding him, hear, “I need to go back to the bathroom again.” Major sigh…..
Back to the bathroom, back to bed, redress, get him back up, reconnect him to his peddler, make him tea, cath again, and do a few adjustments, and now it’s 4 pm. Six hours after I get up, I’m finally finished with his morning activities and I’m ready to “start” my day.
I give up! I think I’ll just take the take “off.” After all, it will be time to cath him again in thirty minutes (true enough, he called to be cathed again at precisely 4:36) and he’ll want a snack 30 minutes after than, and then more tea, followed by another cath…..
So much for my plans.
I know none of the above was unnecessary for his comfort and well-being. I know that he hates the fact that he had to disrupt my day so much (and I’m sure he hated hearing my complaining about it even more). But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s depressing to have so little control over my plans. I’m tired of being unable to plan anything and I’m tired of disappointments but most of all I’m tired of the fact that I haven’t found a way to not let it get to me.
I really wish it didn’t. I wish I could laugh it off and just roll with the punches but that “funny bone” just ain’t working right now. Could be a lack of sleep; could be the fact my arthritis is really bugging me, or it could be…I’m just feeling sorry for myself and making it all about me. It’s not all about me and it’s not all about him. It’s all about us. We’re in this together and I need to keep my perspective on it. In the scheme of my life right now, not being able to work on writing policies for my job is not a big deal. Being able to make him comfortable and take care of his needs IS a big deal. I just have to refocus and get my perspectives right.
Hmmm….I think I might just have the thing to do that…I think I’ll go make a slushy out of watermelon….yeah, that will make it all better.
Happy 4th of July.