Wednesday, August 31, 2022


Do you have a basic morning routine?  Roll out of bed, brush teeth, drink water with pills, make breakfast, check calendar.... or are you more focused in the afternoon, with secure dinner ingredients, check and deal with the mail, write a blog post on your list?

I don't do it consciously, but the list is there in my head.

Except when it isn't.

TBG is still dealing with surgical recovery.  He hurts.  His pills are a cornucopia of analgesics and anti-inflammatories and blood thinners.  Some are twice a day.  Some are thrice.  Some are every 6 hours (although they can go to 4 if the need is intense).  Some cannot be taken at the same time as the others.  My small yellow legal pad is a mass and a mess of notes and reminders - next, taken, not before.

Sometimes he takes the pills in the middle of the night and doesn't wake me to record the dosage.  Sometimes I leave a pill on his nightstand, to be taken after x o'clock, without the need to get me out of bed to struggle with the child-proof (adults with arthritis in their hands-proof) bottles.  Both scenarios require a modicum of awareness.  Usually, he manages to remember the when.... usually.

Yesterday was pain filled.  Weaned off the day-time oxycodone, the lesser medications were not having any effect at all on the aches and the ouches and the swelling and the it hurts, dammit.  He wasn't hungry then he was starving then he was nauseous.  The pain moved around, from his knee to his ankle to his Achilles tendon to the surgical site itself.  Nothing helped.  We tried ice and gentle rubbing and  brisk calf massage for the cramps which are a new addition to the scene.

Nothing helped.

With old Law'n Orders on as background noise, the night wore on.  I tended and consoled and rubbed.  I kept track of what went into his mouth at what time.  I counted the remaining pills and wondered how we were going to get through the remainder of his recovery as the medications ran out.

What I didn't do was write a blog post.

I apologize.  I had a great idea, and spent some time driving the neighborhood for photos to flesh out the prose.  You'll see it tomorrow.  For now, with this apology written, I'm going to try to nap.

Caregiving is exhausting.


  1. My husband has done plenty of care giving for me throughout my surgical history.. He's good at it. that's a good thing because there will be more.
    During this time of recovery, that's your life. Everything else comes second.

    1. And I don't mind. It's good to focus on the one you love. I just wish I were able to help more. It's more rewarding when the caring works!

  2. Oh, poor thing. My wishes for the both of you is a good night's sleep tonight.

  3. I'm sorry to hear TBG is having such a rough time. Yes, it does overflow onto you, no matter how good the patient is. Terry has always been so good when sick, sort of like a wounded animal who crawls off and stays put until he feels well, but when he had open heart surgery, that was not the case. He didn't complain but he needed help with EVERYTHING. I was worn out because I was also doing all of the household chores, many of which he normally handled. I hear you, it's hard, and I hope it won't last much longer and you will both be handling your own affairs.

    1. Sympathy is what I wanted and sympathy (empathy!) is what I got. TBG recognizes the situation and tries hard to not be a burden but it's unavoidable. Good thing I like him!


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