I keep getting comments, or emails, or phone-calls, in which people say I am wonderful, so, because I find this ‘wonderful’ label uncomfortable, I have decided to come clean about how wonderfall I really am:
- I didn’t go with Husband in the ambulance yesterday because I wanted the hospital staff to see him the way he was without my interference
- I didn’t go with Husband in the ambulance yesterday because I was sick and tired of everything
- I didn’t visit Husband in the hospital today even though I was supposed to bring him a toothbrush and a shirt
- I didn’t visit Husband in the hospital today because I couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t be bothered
So that is exactly how wonderful I am – ha!
I rang Husband this afternoon and said I’d be in tomorrow morning and he was initially disappointed (he was also unsure of where exactly he was, which was unnerving for him and me), but eventually he was okay with me going in tomorrow.
Wonderfall
jmgoyder 
look if people think you r wonderful go with that … if they don’t go with that … at the end of the day it’s whatever you feel comfortable with. It doesn’t matter so much what other people think anyway. The thing is that we do the best that we can do … if we could do it better … of course we would … and that’s just how it is.
Yeah but….!
Does that make sense … or does that make sense 🙂
Thanks, wonderful Ingrid!!!
You’re human, not a robot
I am so grateful that you didn’t call me wonderful – hehe!
People see what they want to see. I see an interesting writer with an interesting life at the moment. I look forward to each episode of it as it comes and the blogs are often wonderful. At least they make me wonder about life and everything. Keep going as you are.
You, sir, are wonderful and I mean that!
Sorry no fall involved. Caregiving is mentally, emotionally and physically exhausting. He was in excellent hands. You needed to regroup. Wise choice.
Okay – what you said resonates because I’ve been guilt-ridden and your comment has helped – thanks!
Even wonderful people have their moments. Everyone at times need to be a little selfish, I think it helps to keep us going. Anyway its not that much fun being good all the time!! So dont feel bad, you are wonderful, but also human.
Thanks, Helen – you are right! Juliexxx
You are wonderful, and part of being wonderful is recharging your own batteries, maybe by not going in the ambulance, or taking a day off from visiting, so that you can get back to being the caregiver tomorrow and having your batteries drained once again.
And that is a wonderful comment – thank you so much!
touchet … that’s it in a nutshell
ha!
Julie, you had all the right to react anyway you did. Frustration, pressure and the feeling of unfair situations bring out some reactions which may not be the ones that you’d have had under different circumstances. You’re only human!
I know, and thank you but I’m still guilt-ridden about being so sick of it all – argh!
Sometimes, darling girl, you need to take a step back and let others take over for a while. You are not superwoman (though i am glad of that as her outfit was horrendous!), and as well as dealing with the physical aspect of nursing someone at home, you are also dealing with the emotional aspect. And maybe letting your emotional health slide. I understand completely how irritating it can be when people say you are wonderful, when really you are just doing what you do. You don’t think about it, you just get back up and get on with it. And you will again. But For Now, Take a Break while you can. Tomorrow I want to see photos of flowers or an unmade bed, or dishes in the sink! Eat piles of good fresh food. Drink heaps of good clean water and go lie in the grass for ten minutes every day. I will be checking! c
What a wonderful comment from someone I only know through blogging – you are the best! I have been feeling so guilty about the fact that Husband isn’t that hard to care for physically, because he sleeps so much of the time so surely I can handle that! But I guess I hadn’t realized that the emotional aspect of having him home was taking its toll. I guess I now feel like it’s okay to admit that so thank you!
Julie, have you ever noticed the phenomenon of a dead battery?
You use the flashlight and forget to turn it off. You go back later and it is seeming dead. But then you switch it off, out of habit I think, and the next time you need it it shines brightly! I don’t know the science of this battery seeming to spring back as it does, but it brings my thoughts to this:
You are burning so brightly trying to balance the world to make it ‘right’ when it is all off-kilter. You want to smile when you feel like crying, to sing when you have not the strength… and the amazing thing is that you have been, and you are. So much pressure to keep this up takes its toll.
So if in self preservation you ‘turn off the switch’ for a day, then I call you wise. What possible use to will you be to your family or yourself if you are burned out completely?
Don’t be so hard on yourself. The problem isn’t that you don’t care, but that you care so very much!
((((O)))) & a X
~ Lynda
That would have to be the best metaphor for this situation ever. I cannot thank you enough, Lynda!
I still think you’re W……………..actually, that’s not the right word.
You’re full of loving kindness, sensitivity and compassion. But you, like everyone else facing difficult life situations, sometimes needs to let someone else do some of the hard ‘yakka’ and allow you to take a day off.
Everyone needs a little ‘Me’ time.
Besides if you don’t take a break and rest every now and then, how will you find the strength to keep giving.
A great book, which I read when I was sick and tired (of being sick and tired), is the Art of Getting Well by David Spero, R. N. David wrote the book for those who live with ‘chronic’ or ‘progressive’ conditions. But he also wrote the book for the people who care for these chronically ill people. It’s inspiring, uplifting, sometimes funny, sometimes a little sad. But it was the first book I read which convinced me to slow down, take time out for myself each day and…………accept my limits and learn to ask for help.
Caregivers need help every now and then too.
You are very kind. Thank you for the comment and also for the title of what sounds like a great book.
I am beginning to realize that bringing Husband home, especially overnight, is not a good idea in many ways – not any more. I’m not sure!
I’ve been following your blog for just a few days… but I find it inspirational. I appreciate your honesty.
Wow – thank you!!!
you are being real and that is ok.
thx!
I’ve heard of so many cases where the wife nurses the husband and runs herself ragged. Then the wife gets sick and dies and the husband lives on. What’s with that? Is it the “caring thing” we women have, that makes us think we should be superhuman? You don’t have to be Wonder Woman to be wonderful. You’re already doing more than anyone would expect, so give yourself a break, a pat on the back, and go eat some chocolate and try to smile. You have a life too.
Yes, your words ring true as I have finally kind of had enough…
Wonderful is being self-aware enough to know when you to protect yourself, to create boundaries that keep you sane, that preserve your spirit so that you can do your best for the long haul. I have acknowledged this with my own family coping with “my stuff” Julie. In the moment I’m in need it seems they should be all things to me, but then I realize they would never ever survive that….they need room to breathe and space to restore too. I’ve learned to allow that – watched them take family vacations without me, enjoyed festive dinners when food was repulsive to me, etc. etc. It’s a balancing act – you are doing WONDERFUL!!!!
It is both interesting and very moving to me that you can understand because you and I are kind of on different ‘sides’ of the suffering dilemma. You have an illness and are obviously very much loved by your family, whereas I am caring for someone with an illness.
Robyn Lee – it is you who are WONDERFUL – absolutely!
Sending you lots of hugs. 🙂
xxx
Wow – thank you!
Caregivers need their breaks. It’s difficult and challenging for them also.
Yes!
It’s so refreshing that despite even me feeling that the things you manage on your own are wonderful I can see the at times brutal honesty that you live with. That you share this so honestly and with no reservations humbles me.
I think that when we have had our fill, no matter what it entails, no matter who is involved it’s typical to beat our selves up when we can push no more. I think knowing when enough is enough is hard, telling yourself the he;; with them all and what they think is even harder. But it’s honest and real.
We don’t live fairy tale lives that through the magic of television interventions are trials and tribulations are lifted from us. We live in real life with real emotions. We are human and feeling like we are letting something or someone down is such a woman kind of thing. You never really see or hear men talking like this. Hell no they’d rather stick their heads in the sand and let their lady deal with it. Isn’t that what is expected?
No feeling these things, not doing these things, and doing what Julie needed to do does not feel so wonderful. But it’s not always a wonderful thing real life. Sometimes it comes with the good, the bad and the ugly.
And sometimes even the wonderful.
Thank you so much for your fantastic comment – I keep wanting to call you goddess instead of Baroness!
A person can only handle so much, and then you have to recharge your battery. You’re pretty fast at recharging, so tomorrow’s soon enough.
Why thank you!
How wonderful that you can put into words all the reasons to not do something. It shows how human you are. I can really relate to your dilemma and see similarities in my own life. Finding balance between what you have to do and what you want to do.
What I would really like to do is to come and visit you – hehe!~
It is lovely where I live, though I don’t have dozens of kinds of domestic birds, lol, we do have deer, mountain lion and bobcat.
Mountain lions! How amazing.
I don’t think I can say anything more than your fabulous commenters have already said. However, you still fall into the wonderful category in my book!
Crap! Hehe!
Let the birds fly your heart away from the stress and then kiss your boys with gusto. They will appreciate you the more for having been you instead of what you think they want you to be.
Keep your chin up!!! r
What a fantastic comment – thank you!!!
Julie, I know exactly what you are feeling. There were days I COULDN’T go see Dad at the nursing home or hospital. I was too weary, too washed, too depressed…like I couldn’t even make myself go. My dad had the Parkinsons with the penquin shuffle and the peripheral neuropathy and dementia. His body just closed down — oh so slowly, so gradually. Horrible! It was horrible to ever-so-slowly watch him die. Some days you just feel like you can’t go any more.
I know it’s different for me than for you. I watched my mom go through the same emotions as you. She had some RAW emotions. The situation brings out the hidden self and the unknown self of us. I watched and heard some things my mom would never say or do in ordinary circumstances.
I’m happy to see that you are writing about it. Writing is cathartic, very healing. Don’t worry about what others say or think. It’s your blog, your feelings, your life. Be real.
Sending you love and prayers from Texas…
Ah – you do really know, because it sounds like your dad had a very similar Parkinson’s experience – oh, your mother must have suffered so much too. Thank you so much, so much, so much, for your comment!
Yes, I live in Mom’s (and Dad’s) backyard and was her right hand – every day, night, weekend, holiday…Dad was diagnosed in 2002, and passed in 2008. Gosh, seems like yesterday. He stayed at home until 2006. Poor Mom. She didn’t deal well with the situation. He asked to be put in the nursing home because of Mom, and you know, once you go into a nursing home, you don’t come out except to go to the morgue. He knew that, but he also accepted the inevitable. Gosh, he was a GREAT man! Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on. This just brings back tons of memories. But, I have to say that along with the sad, sad, sad memories are the most hilarious stories. I really made an effort for Dad to see the funny side to the art of dieing well. Ok. I’m done. Blessings to you and yours.
Thanks for telling me – yes you are so right about humour – not always easy of course and your dad sounds like a hero asking to go to a nursing home!
You need a break or else you will get ‘scunnered’. (A Scots word meaning an aversion to things, dislike, nuisance).
Once you have had a wee break you will have regained your energy to tending to your husband.
I like that word ‘scunnered’!
I get this impression after camping in your blog tonight that you are, indeed, quite a wonderful person.
Crap! But thanks all the same – hehe!