Care Giving turned Care Living
Caregiving turned Careliving
In the beginning, when my husband was laying in a hospital bed not showing signs of coherency I would sit holding his hand and talk to him as if nothing was out of the ordinary. It didn’t matter if he heard me or not I just believed the sound of my voice comforted him. There were many days in the beginning when he would be talking a lot of scattered things. It seemed he was dreaming, hallucinating or telling stories that only made sense to him. I contributed it to the over abundance of medication but more so it likely was the swelling on his brain from the stroke. I sat constantly watching him, the monitors, and the medical staff that entered his room routinely. I vowed I was going to get him home come Hell or high water. Not being one rehearsed with all that a stroke could do to one physically I did not look too deeply into the possibilities of additional assistance. If the truth be told, I had it in my mind that he would get up and walk out of the hospital in a few days from when he was first admitted. Simply, paralysis was not in my vocabulary.
Upon news that my husband would need to go to a Rehabilitation Hospital I swallowed a great deal of pride. Somehow I felt like I failed my husband. Yet, I grabbed the reins and vigorously toured the local facilities and made arrangements for him to be moved to his new home away from home. I brought things from home to decorate his room so he felt comfortable. There were documents signed and shots acquired to allow our dog visiting rites. Of course, I camped out in the evenings with him as much as I could. Gleefully, I once again cheered him on to recovery. All the while, I maintained our home, my work, and financial obligations. I researched and studied all that I could with regard to his stroke. I continually vowed I would get him home. It didn't seem right that individuals our age would live anywhere but in our own home.
After two months that glorious day came when my husband was released to come home. I had worked feverishly to adapt the house. Handrails were added to the bathrooms, a ramp added to the entryway, and removal of furniture to clear a pathway throughout the house. I reduced my workload so to care for my husband. I learned the ins and outs to lifting, shifting, and maneuvering my stroke survivor. I eagerly became his caregiver. It was something I wanted to do.
At the doorstep of a year since my husband had his stroke I realized as I routinely got up this morning to assist him to the bathroom that the eagerness I once had in cheering him on to recovery was now more like a sigh. Don’t get me wrong, I graciously help my husband with just about everything. My husband continually shows signs of improvement in his therapy. We both hold onto hope. Yet, he to date cannot do to many things without assistance. As I reflect upon my life now verses how it was before his stroke I am aware that not only did my husband's life but my life changed. While I don’t have the disability that my husband has I am his left side for most activities. I, verses hiring someone to assist him, chose to do it myself. Finances and Insurance predominately made that decision. And, as time has moved forward, I consider that I am not just care giving but more so care living. Daily, I live my life encompassed with caring for a stroke survivor. While I do not know what tomorrow will bring I feel assured that no matter how difficult today might be we are both still living…Therefore, I with that sigh I release unconsciously embrace the life of Care Living and thank God my husband is alive...
I am thinking about starting a movement. Who wants to join me in Care Living?
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