I'm tired.
As anyone who has taken care of a sick person, an old person, or a special needs person, knows, it's all consuming, and very, very tiring.
Barb has cancer. She had a breast removed four years ago, and that slowed it down, but not until it had formed a tumor on her spine. Inoperable.
Not bedridden yet, her mobility is severely hampered, pain drugs make her balance bad, while still not completely dealing with the constant pain, and very simple tasks give her a very hard time. She spends a lot of time watching TV.
As Barb's need for care increased, I made some realizations. Being me takes a good deal of my time. Most people never really take into account that life takes time. I need time to bathe, dress, feed myself, sleep, and take care of the myriad things we call life. This takes up about 24 hours of my day.
Now I have to factor in time to take care of Barb. I set up the seat, and handheld shower, and I sit outside the bathroom while she bathes, in case she calls for help. I help her dress. I get her some coffee, and make her breakfast. We go somewhere every day, a walk in the mall, an artist colony, anywhere, really, to get her out of the house, get some exercise, and not remind her that she is very sick. On arriving back home, she naps. Even a short walk exhausts her. I make dinner, and serve her in front of the TV. I sit with her, watching the tube, and review my day. I took her to the bank, I food shopped while she sat in the car, I pulled down her bra, and up her pants, I stood outside the restaurant washroom, cause I didn't need to pee, in case she can't get her clothes back on. The jillion little things I did to make her more comfortable, and cope with her difficulties. I made some quick calculations, and taking care of her took about 10 hours of my day. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to do the math.
My day is now about 34 hours.
I have decided to delay getting help from the CCAC for as long as I can. They would sent in someone for four hours a day to give me some respite. This would be an emotional blow to Barb. A reminder she's not getting any better. It would make her feel even more burdensome.
To keep myself from going Just Plain Bat-sh*t Crazy, I have relied on my sister. We are best friends, and she sympathizes with my plight. I try to visit her overnight every week, after preparing Barb microwaveable meals, or sandwiches, making sure she's comfortable, her phones charged, and everything she may need for 24 hours is within reach. I can't even lock the door, cause EMS are forbidden from breaking down a door, even if they see someone lying on the floor. I can then get on with my 'weekend'.
I know this isn't going to last. Soon, my visits will become sparse, then not at all. I am resigned to this. Even now, the possibility that she may fall, or be stuck on the toilet is always on my mind.
I'm tired.
Good God! Nobody chose this, the possibility that she would be stricken with a debilitating disease did not make it into our wedding vows. We deal with what we are dealt. Unquestioningly. Unfailingly. Somehow, I do it with a smile.
Cancer is a malevolent thing. It wants to ruin lives, not just of the stricken, but everyone around it. Cancer tries to make my life miserable. Unbearable. I can't let it. I'm a happy person, I have to be. If I let cancer get to me, it has won another victim.
It's ten a.m. I'm going to get cleaned up, dressed, makeup, blah, blah. then I'll get Barb up, get her cleaned up, dressed, and all that, and my day will begin again. Same as yesterday.
All 34 hours of it.
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