The Truth About Caregiving

Someone emailed me some links for chats of other caregivers for people who had strokes and I have to tell you that it was the best thing anyone could have done for me.

I was so conflicted about my feelings and what was going on with my husband that I NEEDED to talk to other people who were going through or had gone through the same thing. It made a huge difference in how I looked and treated everything after that.

I found out that the traits are pretty much the same with survivor or Type A personalities. My husband was definitely a Type A personality. It must be something that Mother Nature or God, depending on your personal beliefs, bestows on those who WILL survive if they have anything to say about it.

I know it was a struggle each and every day for him to do everything. To hold a phone, drink a cup of water or coffee, even to sit up was a challenge. I WILL say one thing, he tried to meet it with a sense of humor most days. I think I was the only one he ever acknowledged his weakness to and THAT was the reason he could and would be so nasty to me. I KNEW his weakness and he hated that he needed me to just know that he wasn't as brave or as sure of things and yet resented that I KNEW. I'm not a psychiatrist or trained to work with people in his situation but I am a woman, a wife who loves her husband and try very hard to meet the needs of those I care about. So I learned to just *let things go* and choose my fights. If he was having a difficult day, I let him vent and just took care of his needs on a daily basis.

I think the hardest thing for me to learn was to NOT be overly protective of him. When he felt he was ready to do certain things or even when he wanted to just TRY, I had to let him. It was often the most difficult part of my life each day.

I was constantly worried about almost everything he did...when he tried to get himself into his wheelchair, when he wanted to go to the bathroom by himself, even putting on his own shoes or socks. I was afraid for him...mostly of him failing and becoming depressed. What I hadn't thought of was how he felt about being treated like a child. It was humiliating for him. He did not want a keeper; he wanted to do all the things for himself that he could before the stroke. He needed my help for most everything but he hated it.

I felt awful because I was up late most nights not because I really HAD to be but because I was afraid of going to sleep and his having another stroke while I slept next to him. I was so tired all the time and scared to death that I might sleep through a time when he needed me. It was the worst time I remember having in my life. I was terrified that I would wake up one morning and find him dead in our bed.

At least talking to others who were in my situation, I discovered that my fears were not unusual. When I talked about the night I woke up in a wet bed and was so releaved to find out he was just so tired that he dreamed he was using the bathroom, half the people in the chat laughed. They had all gone through it. I related how I had to wake him to get him into dry underwear and used beach towels under the clean sheets and then stayed awake because I was half afraid this was more than it seemed. I am surprised I didn't have a nervous breakdown because it seemed like that was what I was doing....trying to hold myself together because HE needed me and so did my granddaughter and I couldn't fail them.

THE HAIRCUT

I think the turning point was when I got THE haircut as my granddaughter called it. I was very tired and feeling unattractive but....friends were going to visit my husband and have lunch with him so I was meeting with my sister for lunch.
This was a TRUE luxury for me and as I drove to the nearby convenience store for some fresh bread and milk, I spotted this beauty salon and their sign that said *Walk-ins Welcome*.
I decided then and there that I was going to do something for myself and get a haircut that didn't require a lot of care. So I walked in and said to the receptionist....."I need a style of haircut that doesn't require a lot of fuss. Who is the best person here to do that for me?"

She looked at me and said, *I am* and gave me a nice haircut, although shorter than I imagined, and I felt wonderful! My sister loved the look and knew just why I had done it. We had a great lunch, a few drinks and I was ready to face the world with a happy heart for the first time in a couple months. It's amazing what a stupid thing like a haircut can do for a woman.