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Sunday, March 27, 2011

Sliding Backward

It's been a tough couple of weeks and sometimes it feels like we're sliding backward instead of progressing. I thought the worst was over, after that first month Bob was home, but now it feels like I've landed back in time.

I'm talking about the nitty-gritty stuff of life here, the unmentionable stuff: the process of elimination--to be polite, or "piss" to put it bluntly--- and that damnable urinal.

When Bob was hospitalized, the first thirty days after his stroke, he spent in ICU in critical condition and in a drug-induced coma because of severe brain swelling. He had a Foley catheter then. After he developed the second bout of near-fatal pneumonia, he was sent to yet another ICU at Kindred (a special pulmonary hospital) where he was put on a "vest airway system" which is a sort of inflatable vest that wraps around the patient's chest and literally shakes the secretions out of the lungs. He was on what they called a "Texas catheter" then, a sort of condom device attached to a tube. He spent four weeks at Kindred (a regular hell-hole of a hospital, in that all the patients were attached to some sort of life support machine and it felt like walking into a horror movie set). Finally, he was discharged to Acute Rehab, where he was first on the Texas catheter, then later in diapers. I had asked them, repeatedly, if it wasn't possible to teach him to use a urinal or bedpan, however this did not happen. So, he came home. In diapers. And I was determined from the start to teach him to use a urinal. I mean, changing diapers six to seven times a day is a pain, not to mention expensive.

The first couple of times it worked like a charm. Bob used the urinal. I dumped it. Piece of cake, right? Then we started running into problems: i.e. spillage. He seemed to be losing control of the urinal, especially at night, and the whole thing would get dumped: all over the bed, all over Bob. And I am up six or seven times every night, changing sheets, changing his clothes and that first month, my dryer broke (aargh) and I remember piling mounds of urine soaked sheets and clothes in the back yard because I wanted to keep some of the stink out of the house. Oh, those were the days.... and then one night, we had what I like to think of as the "urinal war".  It was 3:00 in the morning, or some such god-forsaken hour, and I was changing out yet another set a sheets and I lost it. I told him:  that was it, no more urinal. Just go in the diaper. That's what they're for, after all. He flipped. I mean, really flipped. I know that when someone has a left-brain stroke that his "logical" part of his brain has been compromised and the right side takes over, the child-like emotional side, and that night was the first time I really saw it come through. He threw a tantrum that would rival any two-year old. He began screaming, first "DIAPER! DIAPER!" then "BOTTLE!" then just "GA! GA! GA! GA!" I relented. And gave him the urinal back. But with warning: one more time, and it's gone. And wa la! It worked. No more spillage. Until now....

For some reason, we've slipped backward here. And once again, I am up every night changing out the urine soaked sheets, the clothes. At least my dryer works, but.... Now, it's me who wants to scream GA! GA! GA! and last night, I lost it again. I hate to admit it. I'm only human. But I took the damnable urinal away. He didn't throw a tantrum this time. But I could tell he was upset. And later, he more or less asked for it back. I gave it to him. With another warning. God, I do hope this works again.

I don't know why I'm writing this. It's not very pleasant or uplifting. It would be so much better to have something good to report. But, alas, I do not. I guess I'm just venting. Getting things off my chest. Letting you all know that life is not a bowl of cherries here. Sometimes it's just hard.

6 comments:

Helen M LaCrosse said...

You have got to be a saint. I don't think I could come anywhere close to handling this situation as well as you do. Your love must be incredibly strong.

Jenn said...

I wanna say something profound, something excellent here, yet all that's tumbling thorough my head is yeh, you're life is f***ing hard right now, and damnit! vent away all you want. Ya gotta depressurize somehow? Don'tchya? Donesn't mean you don't care, doesn't mean you're horrible, no ma'am. So let that steam out, and afterward....reboot, begin again, visualize your intentions, and breathe, deeply. Oy. Love you!

Nikki said...

I know something of how that goes- I'll have just changed one of the kids and work and it seems like they've crapped themselves /again/- it can be soo frustrating!

Diane said...

Helen, I'm no saint. You should've seen me yesterday morning--I grabbed the rail on his hospital bed and shook it (like a gorilla with the bars of a cage!) I was so mad! He'd spilled the urinal four times in a row. Ga! But I think I've found a solution--I ordered a "spill proof urinal" on e-bay and am counting the minutes until it arrives!!!! Jenn and Nikki, thanks for your comments! I feel less guilty now.

Cheri said...

Geez.

Diane said...

now I feel guilty again.... :(