I'm in a "holding my breathe" moment. They happen every few months. The husband has been falling once a day for the past few days. Once it was 1/2 an hour after I had passed out for the night and poor Josh took care of him and then came back upstairs and woke me up so I could handle the resolve of the situation. Poor Josh, right?
It gets worse. Yesterday, I was out in the woods with sweet pea around 10 o'clock in the morning and Josh called to tell me that the husband had fallen again. The mornings are usually the safest time for me to leave the house. Typically he doesn't get out of bed before noon. I felt really bad for not being there, but I also didn't rush back because the husband refuses help, so here was basically nothing I could do. I did lecture him on using the precautions he is supposed to be using and isn't. In this situation I just have no control and no influence. Basically I am just an observer 98% of the time and a chauffeur/cook the rest of the time.
I did call the husband's doctor, who started talking about getting an aide, nursing home, etc... All the things that the husband would scream eternally if I even brought it up. I told the doctor, look, I know that physically he is there, but mentally he isn't anywhere close to accepting help from anyone except me. And, nothing like that is even on the table during a pandemic so I was just basically just calling to let him know as a courtesy.
The husband thinks he may have broken a rib on that late night fall. He also hit his head on that early morning fall. One day he is going to have the fall he is going to have that fall that's so wrong that there won't be any coming back. Like I said, I'm holding my breathe.
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