I don't know how to not be angry right now. I am so over the top angry with the husband when he does everything the opposite of taking care of himself. I mean, the man does not let up on his mission of complete self destruction for a moment. He is supposed to weigh himself every day because fluid retention is a sign of heart failure. I just asked him if he'd like me to weigh him, since he cannot accurately see the scale and I weigh him every day. He said, Well, it won't be a dry weight because I have already had diet soda and cookies.
First of all, I'd like to rip his face off for saying dry weight to me. Wahoo, you read an article on the internet. You learned the phrase dry weight, which you use half a dozen times a day now, five of which are beyond incorrect uses. Rip rip rip to your face. Except then I'd have to clean up the mess, so I'd probably have to settle for some less gruesome method of violence.
I'm angry at myself for being in this situation where I am married to someone who has no happiness in him. Not a shred. I'd like a little laughter in the mix. I think being mad at myself is probably the worst. Yup, I know it folks, I got myself here,. I had options. I could have never been here, I could have left dozens of times, but for one reason or another I didn't, and now I can not get myself out of the situation, I can only wait.
The husband told me that he did internet research and knows people live 10 or 15 years with stage 4 heart failure. Are you kidding me? I angrily told me he could show me "the articles." I can do internet research too, and 10-15 isn't in your future. Sorry. Can you please deal with it now? Oh, I am sorry, (the brain disease you are incapable of understanding you've got ) prevents you from having any level of self awareness. ANY level of self awareness. At this point it is physically impossible for you to understand that you are gravely ill. That part of your brain has atrophied. Oh yea, living with someone with a prematurely atrophied brain.....
What cruel demon gave this man a life of emotional neglect (sorry to his dead parents who are not here to defend themselves, but something had to go wrong in that childhood to turn out a man so broken emotionally) and this mixture of physical illness? He must have been really awful in his previous lives to deserve this one. Maybe he was a serial killing pedophile cannibal or something.
So, the question is , which one of us is suffering? The editor made the case that he is not suffering, as he is incapable of understanding how diminished he is cognitively and physically. She said it is me who is doing all of the suffering because I know how bad it is. For sure I am suffering, as I am prone to freaking out about 99% of every waking moment. But is he suffering? I know the man I used to be married to, over a decade ago might not want to live this current life, but the diminished man seems fine with it. Which husband's opinion counts? The before or the current? And, also, it's not like there is a choice to live or not. So why am I even asking this question? Am I wishing he was full of angst over his condition? NO. I am not even sure where I am going with this. What is it that I want? I want him to say, Look, I know I am on the clock. So let's make some strategies to guide you through this. Here is what you need to know, and here are my final wishes.
He isn't playing my game my way though. After he told me that he thinks he's got another 10-15 years he said he didn't know how much quality those long term heart failure patients had, he said They probably just sat around the nursing home watching Wheel Of Fortune. People, he watches every night! Right after Jeopardy!! I said Sounds a lot like your life. he turned and hobbled walked away.
Will I ever be able to have the closure I am looking for here? Not a chance in hell. He will not be present for his exit, just as he has not been present for all of his adult life. WOW. What a reality check I just typed out for myself. Not sure why I was hoping for something more. This is a pattern. Will I get the chance at living life with a smile on my face? I sure hope so.
When my dear departed friend, Bob, spent almost a year living on our guest room, he would escort me as I ran the errands that a mother of young children has to run. What I recall from those times was feeling so thankful that he always lent a hand, carrying groceries or fixing the little things that needed fixing around the house, what ever needed to be done. He was a real gentleman. Also, I remember how as the two of us would chat away we would both break into song- and it was always together and always the same song. Bob always said we were soul mates. It might be nice to have someone to sing with again.