By the time he gets to me, he's just about ready to go. But his hardest tasks are still ahead of him. He has to wake me from a medicine induced sleep, something that is very different than simple, normal sleep. And I've never been a morning person anyway.
5 minutes later (I think) he helps me get dressed. We've laid the clothes out the night before because I'm too groggy to think in the morning. My clothing has to be comfortable and loose or wide fitting on the neck. My scar still hurts too much for the pressure of clothing.
I pee then brush my teeth; simultaneously he takes my purse, meds, and back o' junk/stuff to do downstairs. When I step out of the bathroom he is sitting, waiting on the bed. He leads me downstairs. I fall a lot, so I rarely walk up or down stairs alone anymore. I fall A LOT. Even on solid ground, not just stairs. It's awful.
I take my first set of pills at 6:30 (and every 2 hours after for the rest of the day). Kevin makes us both coffee (some days before I come down, some days after) and brings me an ice pack. He tucks me into "bed" on the couch. I get goodbye kisses and almost always a forehead kiss. Those are my absolute favorite. His forehead kisses make me feel safer than most anything. I thank him for all that he does and he leaves for work. I know within an hour, after he gets settled in at work, I will get a text from him, telling me he loves me.
On the coffee table are two Nutri-Grain bars (already opened to save my dead arm the trouble) my pills, my water, my coffee mug, my reading material, and my to-do list. I am in and out of sleep for the next few hours. I have alarms on my phone going off every two hours, and I have phone calls or texts, from Kevin, alerting me so I don't miss my medication. For some reason I don't have alarms set in the afternoon. By then I'm usually reliably awake. But if he doesn't tell me it's time to take my pill, I often forget.
He rarely shows frustration with my health problems/our life struggles. I often do. I cry almost every morning once he walks out the door. Between the meds and the tears I fall asleep quickly. I try to be strong for him, because he is so strong for me. I am exhausted from the physical battles, the emotional battles, the spiritual battles.
I am ashamed of my current way of life; though I know it's not my fault I've fallen ill I'm still ashamed of it. I feel I am grieving the loss of the person I know of as myself. She no longer exists, in the physical world. Only in our hearts and mind. I miss her. I'm still figuring out who I am now, and it isn't easy to do. I suffer from a loss of dignity in the things I can't do or need help with, but that list is a whole other post--literally, already saved in drafts!
Speaking of, I actually have several blog posts saved in drafts, almost ready to go. This was one of them. Some of the posts to come:
- things I'm unable to do at all, things I'm unable to do without assistance, and things I've lost
- my official diagnoses (health terminology and good old normal human speak)
- and other personal "us" things that keep Kevin & I going