012219
We were thrilled. JD has finally ended his IV antibiotics. I had started learning little tricks. The best way to put up the pole. The best way to make sure there are no air bubbles in the line. How to set everything up. How best to flush the lines. And it was a time that we could spend together. Though the last few times, he had fallen asleep, so I was just taking care of the end of the process by myself.
But he has been getting bad lately. When he came home from the hospital, he couldnt do much. I took care of the housework, kept him clean. But over the weeks, as he started to get more energy, he had been helping out. Cleaning his dishes, sweeping the floor, taking out the trash.
But he is on new drugs, and new neighbors have moved in that drink, and are close to his age. I do not know if it is the prescription drugs, the drink, or something from the neighbors that have been messing him up. He has resorted to his old ways.
Back in the day...not the early days when he was healthy and happy and fun. But when he got home from the hospital on too many drugs, in control of the demolition derby wheelchair with two car batteries. The one that poked holes in the house. Removed all hard corners, re-shaped the appliances, and widened the doors without a level.
Back in those days, those are the ones that are suddenly coming back. The half-closed eyes days. The argumentative and temper tantrum days.
The bake element fizzled out in an electrified glory. I ordered a rather expensive one through Home Depot. But it would not be here for a while. In the meantime, one of our neighbors tossed their old, standard issue stove. I was able to salvage the bake element, and the facing of the drawer to have our oven nice an nearly-new looking.
Within a day, he had run into it and dented it. He has scraped a large portion of paint off of the front door. Paint chips spewed many feet from the altercation. I have had to leave work to take him to the doctors, to pick up medications more than twice per week.
My boss's mother-in-law passed away today. She had to leave in a hurry. And now I have extra work. I needed to stay late, but JD had fallen from his chair. It had taken him a few hours to pull himself to the phone to call me. So I left work again. He was on his back in a pool of urine that had bled to the other side of the doorway. There was a trail of blood across the tile.
He has contracted MRSA in his travels to the hospitals/nursing homes. I removed his shorts, gave him a pillow, and covered him with a towel. I sopped up the bodily fluids and cleaned the area with bleach. I warmed up water and cleaned the urine off of him. I found the hoyer hammock and got that under him. I put new shorts on him. I pulled the hoyer from storage and lifted his legs and head to fit the metal legs under him. I hooked it up and cranked it until it lifted him high off of the cold tile. He shivered. I moved him through the living room, to the bedroom, and lowered him gently onto him electric chair. I cleaned and bandaged his wounds. He had gotten the hose caught up in his chair wheels, and had broken it off. I fought to untangle about 3 feet of hose from around the wheels and engine of the chair.
Once set up, I left him to drop off a package that needed to go today. He had heated up some food in the microwave. I had asked him not to eat it in bed. To try to eat at a table. I had found a large peice of meat under my cover on my side of the bed last night. Quite disturbing to a vegetarian. Apparently meat-eaters like to sleep with dead parts of animals.
I checked on him. His dinner was strewn across his side of the bed, across his manual wheel-chair, and between the chair and the bed, soaked into the carpet. Some kind of soft meat with soft red peppers and a brownish oily sauce.
I cleaned up what I could and left to mix a Leblon and Fresca. I wanted to scream. I cried. I was so close to having a semblence of my sober fun responsible husband back. So close.
He had so wanted to be free of the hospital. The confines. Free of the IV. He was so close, and now he is loosing those things. If he does not get his act together, he will need either a babysitter, a daycare, or to be put in a home. I cannot protect him from the demons that he lets in the door. They are too easy to find if one looks.
I will monitor the situation and see if drastic measures need to be taken. I have told him some of the untasty options. But I fear he is unable to comprehend.
He was so close. And me...well, I had a little hope until today.
But he has been getting bad lately. When he came home from the hospital, he couldnt do much. I took care of the housework, kept him clean. But over the weeks, as he started to get more energy, he had been helping out. Cleaning his dishes, sweeping the floor, taking out the trash.
But he is on new drugs, and new neighbors have moved in that drink, and are close to his age. I do not know if it is the prescription drugs, the drink, or something from the neighbors that have been messing him up. He has resorted to his old ways.
Back in the day...not the early days when he was healthy and happy and fun. But when he got home from the hospital on too many drugs, in control of the demolition derby wheelchair with two car batteries. The one that poked holes in the house. Removed all hard corners, re-shaped the appliances, and widened the doors without a level.
Back in those days, those are the ones that are suddenly coming back. The half-closed eyes days. The argumentative and temper tantrum days.
The bake element fizzled out in an electrified glory. I ordered a rather expensive one through Home Depot. But it would not be here for a while. In the meantime, one of our neighbors tossed their old, standard issue stove. I was able to salvage the bake element, and the facing of the drawer to have our oven nice an nearly-new looking.
Within a day, he had run into it and dented it. He has scraped a large portion of paint off of the front door. Paint chips spewed many feet from the altercation. I have had to leave work to take him to the doctors, to pick up medications more than twice per week.
My boss's mother-in-law passed away today. She had to leave in a hurry. And now I have extra work. I needed to stay late, but JD had fallen from his chair. It had taken him a few hours to pull himself to the phone to call me. So I left work again. He was on his back in a pool of urine that had bled to the other side of the doorway. There was a trail of blood across the tile.
He has contracted MRSA in his travels to the hospitals/nursing homes. I removed his shorts, gave him a pillow, and covered him with a towel. I sopped up the bodily fluids and cleaned the area with bleach. I warmed up water and cleaned the urine off of him. I found the hoyer hammock and got that under him. I put new shorts on him. I pulled the hoyer from storage and lifted his legs and head to fit the metal legs under him. I hooked it up and cranked it until it lifted him high off of the cold tile. He shivered. I moved him through the living room, to the bedroom, and lowered him gently onto him electric chair. I cleaned and bandaged his wounds. He had gotten the hose caught up in his chair wheels, and had broken it off. I fought to untangle about 3 feet of hose from around the wheels and engine of the chair.
Once set up, I left him to drop off a package that needed to go today. He had heated up some food in the microwave. I had asked him not to eat it in bed. To try to eat at a table. I had found a large peice of meat under my cover on my side of the bed last night. Quite disturbing to a vegetarian. Apparently meat-eaters like to sleep with dead parts of animals.
I checked on him. His dinner was strewn across his side of the bed, across his manual wheel-chair, and between the chair and the bed, soaked into the carpet. Some kind of soft meat with soft red peppers and a brownish oily sauce.
I cleaned up what I could and left to mix a Leblon and Fresca. I wanted to scream. I cried. I was so close to having a semblence of my sober fun responsible husband back. So close.
He had so wanted to be free of the hospital. The confines. Free of the IV. He was so close, and now he is loosing those things. If he does not get his act together, he will need either a babysitter, a daycare, or to be put in a home. I cannot protect him from the demons that he lets in the door. They are too easy to find if one looks.
I will monitor the situation and see if drastic measures need to be taken. I have told him some of the untasty options. But I fear he is unable to comprehend.
He was so close. And me...well, I had a little hope until today.