clickmom

we'll see

Tomorrow is the big day that sweet pea might finally get the green light to go back to normal activity. I'm so happy about it that I plan on walking her until she asks to stop once we leave the vet. I will be heart broken for her if they tell me she isn't ready for activity. I don't think they will.

In the mean time, my back has been out for freaking ever. Somewhere in the back of my mind has been this suspicion that one day I will need back surgery and I am so so so afraid that the day is here. I was hoping I could avoid it. 

I've been on a cleanse for 2 weeks now. Today I recommitted to 2 more weeks.  Then I think perhaps I will do it the first 2 weeks of every month. Goal: weight loss.  It is a product my new town chiropractor sells. It's overpriced. I've done it for 2 weeks, and I have to admit I wasn't letter perfect but still lost 12 pounds. The chiropractor told me that if I had done it to the letter I would have lost 20 pounds. (Not entirely healthy to lose 20 pounds in 2 weeks, is it?) I'll be less imperfect for this next round. It was good timing in a way that sweet pea has been on bed rest for her ailing paw. I am a wee bit concerned about my level of stamina. We will see....  

in the sauna

I think I'm going to start a new "thing" here and posts will start with So, the other day in the sauna..... because I can't seem to get an ordinary relaxing day in the sauna under my belt. Some other Y member is always doing some nonsense which is rude, inconsiderate and probably dangerous and this just makes my blood boil. I've been trying to get myself back into the water (pool as opposed to glorious open water of the lake) (insert crying emoji here) and if I'm going to get wet in the pool, you know I'm going to follow that up with a sauna! I do long for the company of that emaciated woman I used to rule the posh club sauna with back in step ford. I want my throne back? Just kidding. I hate it here in new town so much I just want to make incredible images until the time is right to get out of dodge and end up in who knows where, I don't know but it feels like it can't be less desirable than here. 

So, the other days (I have some catching up to do) in the sauna, some chick left her face mask and snorkel hanging from the fence around the heater unit to dry while she showered and got dressed. If I could have melted it I would have. Two teenage girls decided it was the right place to hang out and yak while fully clothed including their sneakers. Some asshole left her towel spread out on the little upper bench where I like to sit because it's hotter on top, forcing me to sit on the less hot lower bench and then she returned showered and fully dressed to grab her towel. (I almost punched the bitch.) And...... this old lady with the most frightening big toes, turned in at almost a 90 degree angle (It hurts me to even look at them) lied on the bench and did stretches and pelvic bridges, which is basically lying on your back with your knees bent, feet planted firmly while you thrust your pelvis upwards creating a straight line from your knees to your shoulders. Yes, folks, I got to witness a naked, rail thin, sweating old lady pelvic thrusting her bush into the air a few feet away from me in a hot sauna. 

I'm gonna keep replaying that image in my head as an appetite suppressant.

 

 

Team?

So

I can’t even stay calm to tell this story.

Sweet pea stepped on something which sliced her paw open and she had to get stitches.

I don’t know what she stepped on. I’m not exactly sure when she did it. We took a 2+ hour walk. She never complained. I saw a trail of blood once we got home and figured it out. I know that one of the vet techs at the vet described the horror film scene blood filled waiting room, exam room and back area she had to clean after we left to my SIL, her friend. Now poor sweet pea is on bed rest for 10 days.

Sometimes she cries a little bit.

Sent from my iPhone

Wallowing

I was talking to friend who despite her husband’s rough attitude, which may or may not be attributed to brain damage from strokes or even the earliest stages of Alzheimer’s. She is still deeply in love with this guy, and doesn’t even want to think about life without him despite how he has pretty much been awful towards her the majority of time.

I personally tend to wallow in the big pond of resentment and anger.

I was thinking about my personal philosophy on love. I think that one can only love someone if they truly believe they are being loved by the other person. This is the way people can love someone who doesn’t actually love them, being based on a false belief. (Think: celebrity stalkers) It’s why battered women stay with broken men. They secretly believe that the men love them deep down inside. It would be the realization that one is not being loved which makes it possible to fall out of love, or “get over” someone.

Sent from my iPhone

Lalala

The first time I realized I was singing out loud was when I was a senior in high school and my friend asked me how I knew the lyrics to every song. I didn’t know why she was asking me. So I asked her and she said that every day I sang as I heard the different radios playing in the schoolyard. I had no idea I was singing out loud. I had no idea I was singing at all.

 I vaguely recall a similar incident as a freshman at Georgia Tech in the architecture lab. We used to stay up drafting all night long and someone was always playing a radio. 

 I was checking out at the market the other day when the lady in front of me turned to me and said I had a beautiful voice. My hands flew up to cover my mouth and my eyes got big as I realized I had been singing in the market while shopping for dinner groceries. The woman then reassured me by telling me that she had heard me singing in the vegetable section and once another time in the store and that I should not be embarrassed because I had perfect pitch and she would know, she said, because she was a Juilliard graduate.  I joked that I was going to follow her around all day so she could continue flattering me. But the truth is that this woman’s compliments made my day and the happiness didn’t disappear until about ...... I’ll tell you when it happens.  I secretly believe I could have been a singer if only I had been encouraged. 

Don’t know how to feel don’t know what to do

Last night I went to bed with a mild headache and woke at 2AM with the kind of headache that feels like it might be the end of me. I vomited, had diarrhea, got sick again and went back to bed with such a searing pain in my brain I wondered if I’d wake in the morning. 

 Obviously I did wake up. One thing I noticed as I was running back-and-forth to the bathroom last night was that I could see a dim light underneath the doorway of my bedroom. Once I had vomited the final time I open the door to my bedroom and could tell that The husband was watching television in the family room. I didn’t have the energy to even call out to him and I just assumed that he was unable to sleep  and returned to my bed. 

This afternoon my husband told me that he thinks he had a low blood sugar event last night. He said he woke up shaking uncontrollably and sweating so he came into the kitchen and found some cookies to eat and watch television until he felt better. He had no idea that I was upstairs being ill so I asked him why he didn’t call out to me or text me from his cell phone. He just looked at me and shrugged.

 I had visions of me coming downstairs and finding him in a coma on the chair or worse. He is in capable of understanding how serious a situation like that is and I don’t think there is a way to help him to understand. Sometimes I question if he wants to live or if he is accepting that he will die.  The apathy that he has as a result of whatever has atrophied his brain makes it impossible to know what he wants. It might make it impossible for him to want anything. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what to do. 

 

Sitters

(Typed on my phone. Sorry in advance for the typos) 

so. The other day I had to use a public restroom. It was the kind of store that has two individual private gender anybody bathrooms. So, yay for the private bathroom.  I stood in the hall anxiously waiting for one or both of the occupants to leave. The best case scenario would have been for both doors to simultaneously swing open so I can quickly profile the occupants. It is a stander? That’s bad potential for a raised toilet seat and even sometimes a mysteriously wet and raised toilet seat. But worse than a stander would be a squatter. Dear lord. Save my generation from the squatters.  They’re gross enough historically but now they’ve got bad knees and can’t even manage to hover close to the hole to keep things sanitary. No, these days the ancients just spread their legs and let loose like a tsunami of lunch’s never ending refills of diner coffee. God bless the sitters, the wise ones who know you won’t get back of leg cooties if you find a dry seat and take it.

as bad luck would have it only one door opened. A quick glance at the occupants shouted squatter. I entered the private loo. Suspicion confirmed. It was a sight to behold. Like a battle field of incontinent soldiers, I made my way to the toilet paper holder with the ultimate dilemma weighing heavily on my mind. Wipe with massive amounts of paper or become my own squatter. 

understated

I try not to write too much about the husband out of respect for him. But then, you know, I’m pretty much a care giver these days so it doesn’t leave much to write about. 

One doctor is trying to jiggle around some meds to help the husband partake in life more. So the husband is taking speed, effectively.  And it is definitely doing something. He tries to be chattier. And he tries to offer something to a conversation he might overhear.  He even wants to do things. Despite his pretty significant level of handicapped-edness. And, if  I didn’t come to the table with so much baggage (soooooo much)  I could sit back and enjoy some of the changes. But I do you come to the table with a tremendous amount of baggage a lot of which can be called....ahem..... resentment (cough cough) and I am not handling this time very well. 

That might be an understatement 

 

no examples

So, the husband does not often say nice things to me. There. I admitted it. I married a guy who doesn't ever say things like You look nice today or really anything else that would be kind or flattering. Except, in his latest version. he is starting to say things like Wow, dinner was great, how did you prepare the fish? and to be honest I find it so freaking confusing when he is being "nice" that I just stare at him with my mouth hanging open. 

However, in the latest reinvention of him, thanks to that behavioral variant of dementia, he says kind things (see above regarding tonight's salmon dinner) and I want to share with you one of the nice things he said this week.

But first, let me tell you how the school days go around here. Typically I wake around 6:15 and so does Josh. We each get ready and I go downstairs around 6:35, put some water up to boil, take sweet pea outside, pop a bagel, in the toaster, Josh comes down and eats and leaves for school. I follow soon after, taking sweet pea to the woods, maybe stopping at the grocery store, pharmacy or bank and then I return around 11ish, eat my own breakfast and then some time after noon and as late as 3 the husband hauls his half dead self out of bed and comes tripping down the hall. He tosses his weight into a club chair and either sticks his face into his iPad or turns on the TV.  Then he'll tell me anything he managed to pick up, like how he was awake at 7:30 because he heard me leave or he was awake because he knew that I asked Josh if he wanted tea or coffee and I tell him it doesn't count as awake if he fell back to sleep for another 5 hours. The point is, I have a busy morning before the husband ever even knocks the sleep out of his eyes almost every day. 

But, the past few days he's been getting up a bit earlier, like 10:30 or 11 and this coincides with me returning from the morning outing. The other day he commented that when I come in with sweet pea I am always singing a happy little song to her and it makes him happy. Folks. Not only did he say something nice to me but he called himself happy!  It took brain rot for this man to feel happiness? I'm just in shock. Also, if he hadn't said that to me and you had asked me how he felt hearing me sing to the dog every day I would have guessed that it drove him insane and probably caused a hormonal imbalance in him or something. Happy? Never in a million years did I see that one coming. 

I could go on for another 17 inches about how conflicted I am that I cannot seem to just enjoy the changes which are an improvement, but instead am suspicious and resentful that this kinder gentler person was living inside the angry and cold guy I've lived with for so long. But I won't. I just wanted to tell you that it is there. I'm sure you don't need examples.

Betrayer?

So, this happened about a month ago already but I am still all worked up about it. The husband was sick with the stomach thing. And it wasn't it his usual sick. But I wasn't, like, freaked out worried, I just knew it wasn't what he typically goes through. And when I realized I should take him to the E.R. it was 9:30 at night. So, I told him that I'd let him sleep because we have been to the E.R. in the evening and it is never a great time to show up. SO, the next morning I got up to walk sweet pea and I checked on the husband before I left and thought "Oh shit. I can't go for a walk, I have to take him to the E.R. right now." I completely thought that there was a decent chance the E.R. would simply rehydrate him and send him packing.Naturally, the husband didn't want to go, and he begged me to just let him sleep a while longer and promised me he'd be better if I just let him sleep. So, I did what I always do, I called the doctor for validation, and the doctor said it sounded like the E.R. was the right thing. I had to threaten the husband with calling an ambulance, but he did pull on some clothes and make it to the car. 

Long story short (HAHAHA, me tell a short story?!? Hilarious!) Even in the E.R. they weren't panicked and thought he had Norovirus (I knew that wasn't it) UNTIL his blood results came back and then I saw some serious concern in the face of those who were sprinting down the hallway with vials of antibiotics for his I.V. and treating him. A few doctors said something along the lines of "It's good you brought him in when you did" and one nurse came right out and said he would not have lived if I had waited another day.

I am really struggling with the fact that he was in a very dangerous situation and it was not clear at all. He had no pain. I mean, even the hospital staff didn't realize the seriousness of the situation until they saw the blood test results. I can't blood test him every morning to access his fitness! I expressed my feelings to the husband's kidney doctor last week when we were there for a check in and he reassured me that not even the hospital staff had any clue initially but my instincts were intact so I needed to listen to my instincts in the future. That wasn't entirely comforting. My instincts have not gone to med school and my instincts can not perform blood tests!! 

I also had an inappropriate exchange with he nurse who checked the the husband into his room when they admitted him. She asked if he had advanced directives and I said he did and also had a D.N.R.  She said he was too young to have a D.N.R. and tuned to he who has barely left the house for past 3 years and asked if he wanted to die. She said "Do you want to die? Are you ready to die? Okay with dying?" The husband looked off into the distance, tilted his head, half shrugged and said "I suppose I want to live." I told her through gritted teeth that he does not want to be alive in a compromised situation. Then the nurse explained to me that if he had a massive stroke and they revived him and he was on life support I could make the decision to remove him from life support. Because who doesn't want to have to make that call? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Don't worry, I reported her.

What happened to the husband was a massive gallbladder infection that had gone on so long he had pancreatitis and was about to have total organ failure when I brought him into the E.R. Lying on the E.R. cot waiting for the blood tests he turned Homer Simpson yellow. It was frightening to see. But, the entire time HE HAD NO PAIN. Doctors were practically lining up to palpitate his abdomen as if one would finally touch a magic spot of pain but the husband felt nothing. He had diarrhea and vomiting, two things that normally don't warrant hysteria, just electrolyte drinks and crackers. I just knew this wasn't typical and that's why I wanted a doctor to see him. But the thing I keep replaying in my head is that I wasn't frantic, didn't even think they'd really admit him. As a matter of fact, somewhere I have a bag of chargers and headphones for him to use in the hospital and as we walked out the door I thought about grabbing it but didn't bother because I thought there was such a slim chance that he wasn't returning with me.

Then the hospital had a parade of specialists checking in on him before they could perform the surgery because there was a chance the surgery was going to be too much for him. The surgeon said his gallbladder was very scarred and that he must have been having unnoticed gallbladder attacks for a while. And the husband survived the anesthesia and the surgery and now he is basically as he was before the surgery.

So, the two big things I an grappling with now are how close to the end he was without anyone realizing it and also how many things are wrong with him and how many different paths he could potentially go down and how to make this the path with the least suffering. 

Ok, there is a third issue. In my heart I know the old husband who would hate being the new husband and in the past he has said things like how it is ridiculous to keep people alive for a meaningless last couple of years of medical intervention at the end. He said we, as a culture, had to get more comfortable and accepting of death. He liked to quote some statistic that 90% of a person's life time health care costs are accrued in their last 18 months of life and we needed to let go of dying people. Part of me feels like I am betraying the person he used to be by saving his life over and over again.