Family+Marriage+Caregiving+Book Reviews= A Blog With An Identity Crisis
Maybe I'll Exercise
At my check-up the nurse practitioner asked if the neurontin I take helps. I told her yes, it helps my leg. Scott thinks it also helps my mood, but I happen to think my mood is PRETTY FREAKIN' PEACHY anyway. The nurse also went over a self care checklist with me:
"Do you smoke?" No
"Do you eat at least 5 servings of fruit and vegetables every day?" No
"Do you exercise at least 30 minutes every day?" No (See a theme here?)
"Do you sleep at least 7 hours at night?" No
"How much alcohol do you drink?" Not enough
Nurse: "Ok, you have to have at least one goal to on this list to improve your self care. Which one do you want to work on?"
Me: "Oh geez, I guess I'll try to exercise more. Maybe."
I know I need to take better care of myself, I'm a chubby little monkey and my eating habits aren't so great. But COME ON exercising is about as exciting as watching paint dry and Chips Ahoy takes waaay better than salads. Besides doesn't chocolate release endorphins and those are good for you, right?
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…
Middle-aged brothers Jason and Tom Prendergast thought they were completely done with each other. Perceived betrayal had burned the bridge between them, tossing them into the icy river of estrangement. But life – and death – has a robust sense of irony, and when they learn that their cruel father has died and made his final request that they travel together across the country to spread his ashes, they have no choice but to spend a long, long car trip in each other's company. It's either that or lose out on the contents of the envelope he's left with his lawyer. The trip will be as gu…