Oh, I don't mean that literally. It's just that sometimes, you do feel the urge to strangle them because they have an excuse (finally) for only remembering what they want. My hubby is no exception to that rule. He IS a Type A personality and I understand how difficult it is for him NOT to feel in control of his life and all that happens. I happen to be a Type A female myself but....I am also a Cancer, very family oriented and I just HATE conflict of any sort. Especially if it upsets the family *balance*. It makes life very difficult for me most of the time when the Beast (as most of us call him these days) is feeling the most out of *control*.
The past couple months have not been fun for either of us. He started having a problem with his bladder a while back. I could tell at night when he got up to pee because of the strange amount of time it would take him and the sound of his stream wasn't right. It was kind of off-and-on. I figured he might be having a problem with either his prostate or his bladder but knew I would have to wait for him to acknowledge it before I could even offer suggestions. Then, while making the trip up to one of our son's homes to have a repair made to a nephew's laptop, he stopped at Mickey D's to grab a bite to eat, went to the bathroom and had both blood and clots in his urine.
He was on the phone with me immediately and actually ASKED me what he should do. Should he come back home (he was about halfway to our son's house) or what? I told him that it wouldn't be until later in the day before he could get into the doctor's anyway unless he wanted to go to the emergency room (which he didn't) so he might as well continue to our son's and I would call the doctor and then call him back. So continue he did.
The doctor saw him late in the afternoon so he was able to get the laptop repaired and make it home in plenty of time. Our son lives about an hour and a half's drive from us so it's not a big deal. His doctor immediately had his urine tested in the lab there at the office and said he suspected a bladder tumor. He referred him to a local urologist and, to make a long story short, it was, indeed, a bladder tumor. Cancerous. But a class one which is not aggressive but means he has to have that awful camera thingy put up his dangle down every three months for the rest of his life, I assume.
The surgery went well but the Beast had to be catheterized for a WEEK. THAT part was
absolutely the worst week in BOTH of our lives. I felt bad for him because I knew he was in pain but he almost refused to take the pain pills until I was ready to kill him for all his whining. The pain pills, you see, made him so groggy, he didn't feel in CONTROL. That was unacceptable. I was ready to take them myself just because HE was such a pain in the ass because HE wouldn't take the damn pills!
He DID survive (and so did I) and got better gradually. Then he has another problem. This time with his EYE, of all things. So I make an appointment with the opthalmologist and it seems his lower eye lid is turning inward and the lashes are lacerating his eyeball. That meant outpatient microsurgery but it couldn't be scheduled for a week. The doctor instructed him on how to apply the tape to pull the eyelid outward until the surgery could take place. Of course, the Beast didn't like HAVING to do anything that might make people stare or felt uncomfortable. So, you can imagine what took place. He was absolutely miserable to be around. I kind of blew off his complaints because he *asked for it* by not following the doctor's instructions. By the time his surgery was performed, he was really miserable, the eye was very inflammed and causing him a lot of pain and he hadn't slept well for a few days.
He was supposed to just get an IV drip with something to relax him and a local for the surgery itself. Being overtired plus having some very definite brain damage from the strokes he suffered, he kept falling asleep, jerking awake and then was very confused about where he was and what was being done to him. The surgery required him to be very still so the doctor finally ordered the anesthesiologist to knock him completely out. I could understand the reasoning and even could have predicted the problem when the anesthesiologist and the doctor (separately and at different times) explained it to me. It actually was the first time the Beast had been under a general anesthetic in his whole life and he was not aware of the effects. THAT was fun for me, too.....LOL
So, when he was finally brought back to his room, I kept having to nag at him to breathe through his nose and breathe OUT his mouth to get rid of the effects. When he was finally aware and could pay attention for more than five seconds, he got the message that he wouldn't be able to go home until his O2 level was above 96 (it was at a dangerous 85 when he was brought out of recovery and he had to be put on oxygen in the room). He spent two days having to be told repeatedly about WHY his throat hurt and WHY his mouth was sore. Double whammy for me with his strokes and his lack of experience with a general anesthetic.
He is now feeling a lot better at both ends, thank God, or I might have been scouring the area for poison mushrooms to add to his food. (Only kidding, folks but I am sure many of you have had the same feelings for your spouse from time-to-time over the years). I am just glad that he seems to be almost back to his normal (if miserable) self. He really hates having been forced into retirement by his strokes and now he feels that he is dying in bits and pieces. I try to tell him that you are only as old as you let yourself feel but I don't think he believes me. Especially when he looks in the mirror.....LOL. I know the feeling but refuse to let myself be swayed by that old person that follows me around from mirror to mirror. She's just trying to make me feel bad. *grin*
That's where I am right now. Not a caregiver at the moment but poised for it. We've been lucky so far but he's already beyond the point where the doctor's gave him to survive. He's already smoking like a chimney (again) and using lard and other bad products to fry stuff up for himself. He's also fooling around with his meds since he thinks *he knows his own body better than the doctors*. I told him that if he has another stroke, I cannot deal with it again. I WILL put him in a nursing home and, although I know he believes me, he still continues to screw around and not listen to the doctor.
Am I alone in feeling this way? I sure hope not. He was so mean and ugly to me, although he was always sweet and making jokes with everyone else. I tried to understand why (and I think I did, really) but I am beyond being patient and understanding about it now. Life is too damned short for anyone to be mean to a spouse or a family member that is being supportive. I love him but......I don't always like him. *sigh*
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