I think it's finally spring in central Indiana. I'm sitting on the back porch and the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I can hear children in the background. We've had so much rain and cold weather this spring. There's been too much rain to get grass seed planted. I fear that the grass seed will go down and suddenly it will be 90 degress out and no sign of rain. Feast or famine.
All things considered, I've had a pretty good week. I got a hair cut, went to my Caregiver Support group where I've met a lot of nice people. I had lunch with my two cousins who live nearby, and I had my first ever pedicure and manicure. My nails and hands are far from being pretty any more, but they do look nice for a little old lady who's starting to get arthritis. lol
Not so good for Dan. He's stopped eating and drinking fluids. He hasn't liked the taste of water since his stroke, but now he's stopped pretty much everything. Says he's not hungry or thirsty. Because he's not taking in fluids he hardly urinates and his urine is dark. They've run blood tests and all the numbers look good, and his BP is good. His skin is starting to break down. He's got skin shears on his left elbow and leg, they think these came from the Hoyer lift they use now to get him in and out of bed. These are healed, but now he has some on his bottom. I've never seen a bedsore, but one of the sores looks like a bedsore to me.
I went to bed at midnight worrying about him and called the night nurse to make sure they push fluids to him. I woke up at 6am worrying about him and called the nurse to make sure that they had pushed fluids to him. I was at the facility around 7am and stayed until noon. I closed the door for quiet and played music that he likes on my iPod and he snoozed a little. I tried (forced) him to eat a little. He ate one very small bite of sausage and about 1/4 banana and then said he was too full.
He just doesn't understand the correlation between eating and drinking for strength and survival and having the energy to sit up in bed or participate in rehab. I accepted his stroke a long time ago. After many conversations with myself, and God, I think I've finally accepted that I can't make him eat, drink, or participate in rehab. All I can do is love him, encourage him, pray for him, and cry for the loss of my best friend and what our lives were supposed to be in our retirement. The tears are mostly for the loss of my best friend.