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| Bill, January 13, 2021 one day after his first fall |
One year ago today, I began my day by walking around the corner from my bedroom to our kitchen. I almost tripped over Bill, lying unconscious on the floor by the refrigerator.
Bill always got up before me. I was used to seeing him sitting in his chair in our sunroom. I would greet him with my favorite pet name (which I won't divulge here).
This morning as I looked down at Bill lying on his back, his toupee knocked off from his head, I was momentarily stunned. Was he dead? Why did he fall?
I knelt down, placed his toupee back on his head, and tried to get him up. He groaned and slowly came too. I asked him "What happened?" He groggily said "I don't know."
I don't remember much of the exact sequence of our following conversation other than I began making is breakfast of oatmeal and started our daily morning routine. We talked about about why he would have lost consciousness but soon reverted to our normal daily morning routine, which questions of why Bill passed out receding in the background of our daily life.
Two days later, January 14th, I rounded the corner from my bedroom to the kitchen and Bill wasn't in his chair in the sunroom. He wasn't on the floor either. I went downstairs to his bedroom and found Bill again unconscious on the floor of his bedroom. This time I couldn't rouse him. I had to call 911 and they took him to the emergency room. And thus began this year long change of life for both of us.
I am so thankful that Bill is still here with me. Is he the same Bill before his two strokes? No, and he never will be the same Bill. But he's with me, knows who I am and is not in pain. That's all that counts now. Every day I have with him and can take care of him here at home is a blessing.
2 comments:
Each time I read your blog where are you profess to be glad that you have Bill at home with you I think about writing this… My dad took great care of my mother. He helped her with her walker. He helped her in the bathroom. He helped her with her meals. They were living in an apartment in a retirement community. Taking care of my mother was very, very stressful. He worried constantly if he was doing enough for her. I know because he told me this. He did not want help. And last February, my sweet daddy had two heart attacks and left this world. I am sure the stress of taking care of Mom was a huge part of this.
All that to say please, please take care of yourself.
Karen,
I’m sorry that you lost your dad. Perhaps the stress of caring for his wife contributed to his death. I have to take care of Bill here at our home. There could come a point where I can’t care for him(I hope not) but as long as I can I will. I could not sleep at night knowing he was in some warehouse facility. A slow tortuous death for him. He devoted his life to me, I can do the same for him.
Ron
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