C'mon, I've been busy...
In the middle of last month, Lisa had a nice week-long hospital stay for a viral infection that she just could not shake. So, of course, it was trips down to the hospital every night after work. Man, I hate the hospital now. You know something is wrong when staff on different floors know you by first name. She is fine though. She did slide a little on the therapy side of things being in bed for a week, but we're working on that.
I haven't had much time to blog anything. Work has been crazy and home keeps me hopping. I have been really pissy lately. I don't know what it is. I wish I did. I hate feeling that way but cannot help it from overtaking me. It's just little things.
Case in point. Lisa's mother has family dinner every Thursday. For the past year. EVERY THURSDAY NIGHT!!! As you all know, I golf when I can and I joined a league at the Country Club on Thursday night. I have to go right after work. I figured our son can bring Lisa up and they can have dinner every week and not have to worry about cooking. I purposely signed up for Thursday night with that in mind.
Her mother called last week to tell Lisa that she was changing dinner to Wednesday night. For apparently no reason. Unbelievable!!! Do I seem selfish for going nuts? Why am I the only one who has a problem with this? It seems to me like her mother doesn't want to be bothered. Lisa's father has been a HUGE help, taking Lisa to therapy 2 day a week. But, her mom is always doing things like this.
I don't know. I just feel her parents should be more involved to give me some time off. Lisa has been asking me alot if I feel she is a bother. I always say no. To me, she's not. A pain in the ass once in a while, sure. But, not a bother.
I think what chaps me the most is, how can I say this? Why am I the ONLY one who worries so much? The only person who is actively taking a part in her recovery. Everyone preaches you need to do this or you should be doing that, and then they disappear, leaving me holding the bag.
As with all of us, being a caregiver (I hate that term but have not thought of a better one) has totally consumed me. It's all my life revolves around now. I have accepted my role for her. She needs me, and I need her. I just wish not all the time.
Off of page 3,
Butch
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