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Trash Day


Strokewife

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“Zooom, zoom, squeal, crash, bang, boom…woof, woof, arf, arf…vroom, vroom, squeeeeal, zoom…” The clock reads 7:39am as I once again pull the pillow over my head. I pray to God for the madness to please stop while shouting at my dog to stop the barking. Every Wednesday morning I have what I call, “The fricken trash man hatred.” It is every Wednesday morning at a, much too early for me to process, time of day that I realize there are these small things in life which are more important than I ever considered them. There are these minute things that have fallen off my radar. I realize that the simplest of task known as taking out the trash has now befallen on my list of things to do.

 

As a caregiver I expected I would take on task that assisted my husband in his daily needs. I prepare his meals, help him get dressed, and keep track of his medication. Each day I help him maneuver from one place to another without thinking twice. I do the laundry, wash dishes, and clean the house. I drive him to his appointments, therapy, and various outings. The list goes on. But, the chore of taking out the trash somehow slipped my mind. You see, taking out the trash has always been my husband’s chore. I would gather garbage from the smaller canisters around the house and compile them all into one large bag that my husband would carry out to the larger bin that sat in the corner of the garage. All the recycling went in one container and trash in the other. Every Tuesday night my husband would take the trash and recycle vestibules out to the curb. It was an unmentioned task. He always just did it.

 

Somewhere around a two month mark from the date my husband had his stroke this trash chore became apparent to me. I guess because he was in the hospital and I wasn’t home too much there wasn’t much trash. Yet, as I started cleaning, compiling, and sorting through things preparing for his arrival home the trash mounted up. I would bag it up in the larger bag and place it in the pantry.

 

So, one day when my husband was finally home from the Rehab Hospital and I was diligently catering to his needs I opened the pantry door to dispose of the dirty waste. While I would like to say that I picked door number two, like on “Let’s Make A Deal,” with a fabulous prize awaiting, it was more I was bestowed with the booby prize. Behind the pantry door was where trashed had piled up for weeks. I think it even fell out onto the kitchen floor when I opened the door. The odor was one in itself. I am pretty sure I cried. I didn’t cry because of the trash…but I cried because of the trash. I in that moment on that day was made aware that there was one more thing I had to add to my list of things to do.

 

It is this smallest of thing that leads me to write today. I believe I am a good caregiver. I address the needs that are most important regarding my husband. I even work to include him back in doing functions he once did. Yet, while I lay with a pillow over my head, screaming for everybody to just stop, I realize the role of a caregiver is highly underrated. It is the moment I realize there is a huge hole in the system that helps those who help. Certainly, I am aware of support groups and organizations that I can call. I can create a list of individuals to call when I need help a mile long. And, I have the means to search out such help. But, when you wear the hats of many task and you find another hat has been added it seems reasonable to be allowed a moment of meltdown. More so, does anybody really call someone to just come over and take out the trash?

 

So, on this day when I hear the garbage truck making its round and I realize I forgot to take the trash bins to the curb, I gather all the strength I can, get up out of bed to take out the trash. My dog finds it a favored time and gleefully accompanies me to the curb. And I, of course, can only hope no one is watching. As I in my pajamas, a hair do that no one would ever pay for, and attitude that would wilt flowers, role the trash bins down to the curb before the garbage truck gets to my house. It never is a graceful moment. I then go back inside to nestle back in bed only to know I soon will have to get up. Can I just say…I don’t love trash day!

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hi strokewife :

 

I am so sorry for the pain you are feeling right now. but things will not be same like it today & it will improve. though I will also suggest one thing for you to do as a caregiver which will help your survivor & yourself. please get your survivor to help you in any household chores which he can do safely like laundry, paying bills, anything he can help you out. It has two fold benefits, one is it will help one less item from your overflowing to-do list.  and it builds survivors broken self esteem. So it is win win situation for every one involved. post stroke is all about life being different  though its not good or bad it will be just different. I am sure once you do that you will love the laundry day.

 

Asha

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hi strokewife :

 

I am so sorry for the pain you are feeling right now. but things will not be same like it today & it will improve. though I will also suggest one thing for you to do as a caregiver which will help your survivor & yourself. please get your survivor to help you in any household chores which he can do safely like laundry, paying bills, anything he can help you out. It has two fold benefits, one is it will help one less item from your overflowing to-do list.  and it builds survivors broken self esteem. So it is win win situation for every one involved. post stroke is all about life being different  though its not good or bad it will be just different. I am sure once you do that you will love the laundry day.

 

Asha

Thanks Asha for your kind words.  Apologizing really isn't necessary.  I do appreciate it though.  I guess when writing this post I was just trying to embrace the small things that go unnoticed or unmentioned.  I have most definitely incorporated my husbands help with chores around the house.  The latest was vacuuming.  It wasn't great but he helped.  Before my husband's stroke he was very good about helping so not a difficult thing to have him help other than his capability of such.  I am just always looking at how much a caregiver really takes on that isn't discussed.  I often wonder if we knew all that is encompassed in being a caregiver right up front...would we approach it differently.  This probably is another blog.  Mostly, just wanted to say thanks!

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Strokewife :

 

I really appreciate the amount of work caregiver has put it in getting home to little bit of normalcy to all us survivors. I still think & say God knew what he was doing when I suffered stroke & not my hubby, I don't think I would have that inner strength to hold the fort till he recovered his bearing like he did. As a caregiver you have to step out of your comfort zone so many times & accomplish things. I sometime feel I got easy deal in this our stroke saga. I seriously feel all caregivers who decided to stay by their survivor are our guardian angel. u r so right had we known troubles of teenagers  no one in right mind would have gone on having kids lol. seasoned caregiver on this site had her signature caregiving is not for sissies & I can fully agree with her while raising our only teenager child & he is saint most of the days lol.

 

 

Asha

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I never pictured myself, at 63, standing on a ladder and cleaning leaves out of gutters..... or plunging toilets, or spraying and painting the deck, or weed eating all around the yard....

 

Hey!   Plant your feet on the ground and feel your dominance over all these things.    You are SUPER WOMAN!  

 

Now for the sheer will power side of this discussion.   When my 87 year old mother asked me how I was able to do it all.    I said, EPHESIANS 6:13-14   (simply said)  When you've done all you can do to stand, then stand.

 

When I'm too tired to stand... I stand.   When I can't stand anymore.... I still stand.    When those few moments have happened, that I couldn't stand, and against my will, went down like a brick, I thought to myself, I may be fallen down on the outside, but on the inside, I'm stilll standing.......and I wait....  My mom asked, 'what did you wait for'.    I answered, "to stand".

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Another great blog! Have I said too many times that I love your writing style? You can say so much with a little story about trash day. And you have offered us yet another vision of you running about in your pajamas! Please keep writing; perhaps you can start a collection titled "The Pajama Files." 

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For you:

77018_10151315178833856_1026386337_n.jpg

Thank you for the picture as well as the motivational words.  I most assuredly am STANDING...standing on the promises of God.  Do you know that song?  1. Standing on the promises of Christ my King, 

through eternal ages let his praises ring; 

glory in the highest, I will shout and sing, 

standing on the promises of God. 

Refrain: 

Standing, standing, 

standing on the promises of Christ my Savior; 

standing, standing, 

I'm standing on the promises of God. 

 

2. Standing on the promises that cannot fail, 

when the howling storms of doubt and fear assail, 

by the living Word of God I shall prevail, 

standing on the promises of God. 

(Refrain) 

 

3. Standing on the promises of Christ the Lord, 

bound to him eternally by love's strong cord, 

overcoming daily with the Spirit's sword, 

standing on the promises of God. 

(Refrain) 

 

4. Standing on the promises I cannot fall, 

listening every moment to the Spirit's call, 

resting in my Savior as my all in all, 

standing on the promises of God. 

(Refrain) 

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Another great blog! Have I said too many times that I love your writing style? You can say so much with a little story about trash day. And you have offered us yet another vision of you running about in your pajamas! Please keep writing; perhaps you can start a collection titled "The Pajama Files." 

Thank you Carol for your kind words.  I think you are my biggest fan!  I love the idea of the pajama files.  I can just see a whole series on cable tv.  I have this theory that pajamas should be clothing we wear to bed but still decent to wear in public.  So if truth be known my pajamas are more like athletic work out clothes verses fuzzy onesies with feet.  Of course, the later is what I envision when saying I am in my pajamas.  Until next time...Happy living life while in your pajamas kind of day to you!

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