One of the hardest things for me to get used to in this new life of ours is the fact that I am now the only driver in our family. I went from driving only when I absolutely had to (and it had to be a darn good reason) to doing all of the driving all of the time.
I am not afraid of driving, I just don't like to do it. I prefer to be in the passenger seat where I can knit, daydream, or simply talk. I prefer to be the one who hands the kids drinks, flips CDs, and squashes the backseat squabbles. I don't like to deal with traffic, watch for exits and do all the other "work" involved with driving.
S is now not allowed to drive at all. His pain increases drastically when he is simply a passenger. Driving is excruciating. He also takes medication that makes him drowsy and sometimes disoriented. It is simply not safe for him to drive.
I never realized how much time is involved in being the only driver. We live out in the middle of nowhere. The closest non-convenience store is over 20 minutes away. We have an hour trip twice a day to get our kids to and from daycare. Even when I combine trips, which I do every chance I get, at least 2 1/2 to 3 hours of my day is spent in the car.
It is a huge pain in the butt to not be able to say to S, "I'm in the middle of a project, can you run to the store for milk?"
He feels it, too. He used to enjoy driving. He was a truck driver for many years before he started working a desk. When he needed to get away for a bit -- to calm down or just think -- he would hop in the car for a bit of a drive. His daughter and he have their best conversations in the car. He can no longer do that.
It was really hard for me getting us to and from our vacation. It was a 10 hour trip one way. Before surgery, S would have driven the entire way or we would have split the trip. We definitely would have made the trip in a single day. This time the trip took over 24 hours, including an overnight stop both ways. It was hard on me, it was hard on the kids and it was hell on S. Not to mention the additional expense for a hotel room.
I catch myself thinking "when he can drive again..." only to have to stop and remind myself that he will never be able to drive again. Out of all the changes, I cannot seem to wrap my head around this one. I will always be the only driver. He will never drive again. When will I come to accept that? Why is it so hard? What is the hardest thing for you to deal with in your situation?
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
I Am Not a Saint
Nor am I a robot. I get angry, jealous and tired. I get mad at God and at S. I want life to go back to normal. I want a day off. I want a vacation free from worry and pain (his and mine) and stress. I want a partner that can keep up with me and help with the kids and mow the lawn. If you are offended by this, please stop reading.
That does not mean that I am going to leave this relationship. It also does not mean that I am not going to do what needs to be done. It does mean that sometimes I cry and scream and swear. I'm human. I have my own issues. Sometimes I'm extremely selfish.
I hate the TV shows, magazine articles and books that portray the spouse or parent of a disabled individual as a saint. That's just not normal. What is normal (at least in my experience) is a human individual who gets mad at the disability. Who cries when they realize that it is never going to get better. Who gets frustrated and pissed off because their life is changed forever even though they are not the disabled person.
Am I proud of my bad behavior? No, of course not. I feel terrible when S walks into the bedroom and I'm crying because I'm tired or just plain frustrated. I feel terrible when I get mad at the person that asks "How is S?" but never asks "How are you?" I would probably say "Fine" anyway, but that's not the point. The point is this damn disability affects me, too.
The reason I bring this up, other than to get the record straight, is because we just returned from our first full vacation since S's first surgery. It was not pretty. I am rather disappointed and tired. We learned a lot about what S can and cannot do but the "relaxing" part of the vacation never happened. At least not for me.
I will tell you about it tomorrow. Tonight, I am going to sleep. There is no rest for me and that is just a fact of life.
That does not mean that I am going to leave this relationship. It also does not mean that I am not going to do what needs to be done. It does mean that sometimes I cry and scream and swear. I'm human. I have my own issues. Sometimes I'm extremely selfish.
I hate the TV shows, magazine articles and books that portray the spouse or parent of a disabled individual as a saint. That's just not normal. What is normal (at least in my experience) is a human individual who gets mad at the disability. Who cries when they realize that it is never going to get better. Who gets frustrated and pissed off because their life is changed forever even though they are not the disabled person.
Am I proud of my bad behavior? No, of course not. I feel terrible when S walks into the bedroom and I'm crying because I'm tired or just plain frustrated. I feel terrible when I get mad at the person that asks "How is S?" but never asks "How are you?" I would probably say "Fine" anyway, but that's not the point. The point is this damn disability affects me, too.
The reason I bring this up, other than to get the record straight, is because we just returned from our first full vacation since S's first surgery. It was not pretty. I am rather disappointed and tired. We learned a lot about what S can and cannot do but the "relaxing" part of the vacation never happened. At least not for me.
I will tell you about it tomorrow. Tonight, I am going to sleep. There is no rest for me and that is just a fact of life.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)