Annnnnddd… we’re back

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Stay alert…

I got home from my week of vacation at 1:00 this morning. I brought in a few essentials, took a long, hot shower, then crashed. The drive home was trippy – I was tired, my spouse was in the mood to dish the dirt on their business partners, and we kept hitting banks of low-lying fog that clouded the windshield all of a sudden.

The weather is getting so that parts of a landscape will be hot from the day, while along rivers and lakes, the temperature will be much lower, so you can be driving along with everything clear, then all of a sudden your windshield fogs up and you can’t tell if it’s from the outside or the inside. My spouse worked with the temperature controls and how far the window needed to be open to offset the temperature changes, while I kept my eyes on the road and sipped my cup of black coffee.

We made it home in pretty good time, and I got to sleep in my own bed. Heaven.

The place we stayed this past week had narrow beds, unusable pillows, thin curtains, and a noisy exhaust fan in the bathroom. None of this contributed to be getting good sleep, but I made do. I spent a lot of time staying up much too late — the stars were phenomenal — and getting up too early, because my body is used to a certain schedule.

So, I spent a lot of time feeling crappy, like I do now, but focusing my attention on the good around me, which helped. It would be nice to have a vacation where I can really, truly relax and feel good, but my spouse’s medical and neurological issues kept me on my toes.

Such is the life of a single caregiver with a “ward” who isn’t fully aware of just how disabled they are. That’s part of the neurology of stroke – and brain injury in general – not really being aware of just how impaired you are, or how you’re not functioning as well as you could be. Since their strokes, almost 8 years ago, they have gone steadily downhill, getting slower and slower, adjusting their expectations ever downward, with what they think they can do, and how they think they should do it. They’re practically disabled, by now — unable to walk for extended distances, but not willing to use a wheelchair, because it makes them look disabled.

I’ve got news for them — hobbling along and having to stop every 10 yards makes you look very disabled. But they don’t see it that way. They see it as working their way along as best they can. And they’re happy to be able to do anything… versus being motivated to do more, because their current state is not satisfactory.

Well, I can’t make myself crazy over it. People have different levels of tolerance, and different skills for things. Some things that I put up with, my spouse would never tolerate. Like being alone so much of the time. Or not running my own business. Those things are non-negotiable for them, and having that type of connection with the world is something they could never go without.

I, on the other hand, am happier by myself.

Anyway, it was a good vacation, and now I have two days to recuperate and take care of my sunburn. I fell asleep in the car when the sun was shining through the driver-side window, and now I’ve got a bright red shoulder and arm and neck on my left side.

So it goes.

Good to be back.

 

 

 

 

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Author: brokenbrilliant

I am a long-term multiple (mild) Traumatic Brain Injury (mTBI or TBI) survivor who experienced assaults, falls, car accidents, sports-related injuries in the 1960s, '70s, '80s, and '90s. My last mild TBI was in 2004, but it was definitely the worst of the lot. I never received medical treatment for my injuries, some of which were sports injuries (and you have to get back in the game!), but I have been living very successfully with cognitive/behavioral (social, emotional, functional) symptoms and complications since I was a young kid. I’ve done it so well, in fact, that virtually nobody knows that I sustained those injuries… and the folks who do know, haven’t fully realized just how it’s impacted my life. It has impacted my life, however. In serious and debilitating ways. I’m coming out from behind the shields I’ve put up, in hopes of successfully addressing my own (invisible) challenges and helping others to see that sustaining a TBI is not the end of the world, and they can, in fact, live happy, fulfilled, productive lives in spite of it all.

4 thoughts on “Annnnnddd… we’re back”

  1. Now I’m really confused; are BOTH you and your spouse disabled and with some mode of brain trauma? Or perhaps it’s singly your spouse and that which you write here is as a caregiver well-versed in the area of these modes of trauma? Thanks for enlightening me and I’m somewhat certain, others here too.

    Liked by 1 person

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