Respite What?
Recently, as I assisted my stroke survivor with taking his nightly medications, helping him maneuver into bed, and removing his shoes I mentally ran down the check list of all necessary things he requested on his bed side table. Simultaneously, I sighed. I consciously was aware of the throbbing pain in between my shoulder blades and lower back causing me to move a bit slower than normal. I felt tired, weepy, and angry all in one. Certainly, I did not mention my frustration to my stroke survivor but somehow I know he knew.
It has been over two years since I became a caregiver for my stroke survivor. In that time I adjusted just about everything in my life to focus solely on taking care of him. At first, I didn’t think twice about it. I would approach each day with an above board way of thinking. There was a lot to do and not enough time to do it. The hope that engulfed me allowed for enthusiasm to help him in his daily therapies. Others called me a saint for all I did for my husband and commented with statements claiming, “They didn’t know how I did it.” Honestly, I don’t know how I did it either. But, I pulled strength from a trust in a higher power and each night I could rest knowing things would be O.K. The biggest driving force was the hope, or more like the expectation, that my stroke survivor would have a complete recovery.
So, on this night when I routinely assisted my husband I quietly excused myself from the room once he lay slumbering and I wiped tears from my eyes. Mostly, this came about because of our latest doctor’s visit that encompassed yet another statement regarding my stroke survivor’s unfortunate circumstances that come by way of genetics. My stroke survivor is genetically blessed with high blood pressure, which gifts him with the pleasure of taking a plethora of pills. He has grown tired of the routine morning and night of tossing back a mouth full of medication followed with a chaser of milk. He grumbles when I take his blood pressure. Whining is prevalent with each doctor’s appointment. I have become at a loss for words. I have become weary. Thus it has been suggested that I need a break.
All this brings to mind a moment I had at the beginning of all this care giving education. Once my stroke survivor completed his initial six weeks of In-patient Rehabilitation we brought him home and began Outpatient Rehabilitation three times a week. The beauty of this time was it allowed me some time to do errands without concern for my stroke survivor. Meaning, I had free time from my husband but not time for myself. Things moved quickly and I was juggling so much I knew I was going to drop a ball or two. One of the physical therapist noted I looked tired asked if I had taken some time for myself. She, in what seemed like slow motion, stated “Respite Care.” I just smiled and said I was looking in to it and appreciated her concern. Secretly, I was thinking, “Respite, What?” “What the H-E-double toothpicks was respite care?” Between you and me, my dear readers, I had not ever heard the word respite until that day. I don’t know why I had not heard the term before because I had worked in the health care field and seemed rehearsed on such things. Trust me, I went home that evening and Googled the meaning of respite, which is A short period of rest or relief from something difficult or unpleasant. Of course, I also searched for providers in the area. I actually called an organization that did the research for me. In the days that followed I received calls from various places wanting to talk with me about home care giving assistance. I met with a few. I signed up with a group just in case. There was no obligation so why not. Yet, it would cost approximately twenty dollars an hour with a four-hour minimum. Somehow, I found this more stressful than what I had anticipated. I wasn’t sure whether I could trust a hired caregiver. I asked friends, co-workers, and family about people, groups, and assistance. Needless to say I did not hire the so-called “Respite” person. Bringing me back to the juggling again.
This brings me to my final thoughts regarding this subject. Now, I can say I have got to a point, after two years, where everything seems overwhelming. Perhaps it is because I am so tired of the day to day routine. Likely it is because I miss activity that went bye-bye when a stroke appeared. More so, it is simply as defined I need a period of rest or relief from something difficult…
Lastly, what have you done my followers to find respite?
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