It’s been a hell of a week. Some friends came to visit last weekend so I took them back to the airport on Monday. I was very sad to see them go – tears at departure and all that. Then straight home to get my wife dressed and ready for her recreation time. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to lift her as her weight is deadweight because she can’t feel her legs, let alone move or use them. Still no prospect of a hoist on the horizon.
Woke up on Tuesday with a pain in my chest. A visit to the doctor and I’m diagnosed as having a muscle strain. It makes my “lifts” painful to do. And I’m ITCHING to get back to my exercises.
Yesterday, I’d pretty much reached tether’s end. I was having another secret weep in the kitchen and I was all set for opening the door, running away and not looking back. I was tired, fed up, and in desperate need of a break. A proper break – proper respite. Not a couple of hours here and there. A rest.
I had an hour with a counsellor yesterday afternoon ( a coincidental appointment ) and felt a little more relaxed at the end of it. I’ve also been able to chat with friends on Twitter, whose help and support has been invaluable.
I am now talking to my wife about the prospect of her taking some time in residential respite. And it can’t come a moment too soon.
A Husband For A Carer 