Family+Marriage+Caregiving+Book Reviews= A Blog With An Identity Crisis
Scott's redneck sock putter-onner
My husband has dystonia- a movement disorder similar to Parkinson's Disease. Because of this he, uh well has trouble moving. Duh. Anyway, at times he needs help putting on his socks. Whenever I try to help for some reason he screams in pain. Hey, it's not like it's easy putting socks on an adult. So, he devised home-made assistive technology to help him put on his socks. That's a picture of it to the right. He puts his socks over the cardboard, slips his foot in the stretched-out sock, and then uses the pen attached to the string to lift his sock up. It actually works quite well. I call him the Hillbilly MacGyver.
My grandmother had to go to the ER today because she was having trouble breathing. When the doctor came in and told her she needed to stay a day or two for observation, she proclaimed this in front of him: "SHIT! You mean I have to stay? I didn't come up here to stay."
It's been a year. A year since the depression and panic attacks I've had off and on since I was a teenager came back. And boy, did they come back with a vengeance.
"Hey Lisa, did ya miss us?"
My life can be stressful at times, trying to work and trying to help family members. Usually I handle it pretty well. But a perfect storm of BAD STUFF kept happening- a car accident, job loss, an unexpected death of a close friend.
The night my husband and I found out our friend had passed away is the night I had my first panic attack in about 10 years. I had instances where panic attacks would want to bubble up but I was able to control them. Not this time. They were making up for being kept down so long. It actually wasn't panic attacks, it was more of a continuous onslaught. Then the depression set in. Yay!
My husband, whom I help care for took care of me. I clung to him. He took me for car rides because they'd temporarily calm me down. He'd l…
My husband has dystonia. I usually describe it as being similiar to Parkinson's Disease. He has trouble moving and on a rainy, yucky day like today his movements get even slower. Luckier, I was here and was able to pop some pills in him.
We have our own way of communicating. He grunts. Usually he gets his message across but for some reason today my mind and body didn't want to work.
"Can you move?", I asked.
" Rye wront know."
"Do you need a pill?"
He manages to shrug his shoulders.
"I'm giving you a pill."
"Do you have water?"
"Sorry. I don't understand grunts."
He doesn't. I get him some.
I give him one pill. I go to give him more and in a sequence of tongue clicks, eye blinks, and lots of uhhhs- he gets the message conveyed.
It takes just a few minutes for him to start moving again. For the mos…