I HATE this.
Just a small look inside my life as a caregiver.
One of our many visits to urgent care. Been here over 8+ hours now. But this fell upon my heart and I just started typing. So forgive me if it reads erratic and all over the place. You will understand when you get to the end.
I hate this, is what I often say to myself. But then I am overcome with guilt. I hate the fact that she is not the woman I married. I hate the fact that she doesn’t talk to me anymore. I hate the fact that she isn’t present, even when she wants to be. I hate she can’t love me the way I need to be loved. I hate that our lives have been reduced to this. I hate that the valuable time we do spend together that there is a 75% chance she will be sleep. So it is usually just me, her (sleep), the dogs, our couch and the TV. I hate that if I don’t get home before a certain time, she can’t pick me up from the train. I hate the added expenses we have now. I hate this.
I hate the fact that she is cheating on me. I hate the fact that I cannot possibly be the most important thing in her world. I hate the fact that PAIN has taken my wife, my friend from me. I hate that this chronic pain, connective tissue disease, Hip Avascular Necrosis, fibromyalgia has taken over my wife. It has taken over my life. It has taken over everything that was my wife. I hate this. I hate that I am a caregiver, who often feels alone, depressed, out of sorts. But has to put on a strong face for my job and my everyday appearances. I hate that I can’t express how I hate this, without others possibly thinking I love my wife less. Or I am not a good person because I hate the very thing that no one can control. I hate the fact that we went from one extreme to the next. Dealing with life issues, and now we are here.
I hate the fact that I can’t take the pain away from her. I hate that I can’t win that competition. I hate the fact that she suffers anxiety/panic attacks when she thinks she has failed me or can’t do the things she use to do. I hate the fact that I sometimes lose my patience. I hate the fact that people keep telling me to get a support group. I hate the fact that we can’t just go out on an impromptu date. I hate it when we make plans to do something, but pain has other plans for her. I hate the fact that I do indeed feel isolated, and that my only release is going to work. But when I am at work I worry about if she is eating or how she is feeling. My wife lives at a pain level of 7. I live with a pain level of 12. Pain of knowing that the hate I have in my heart for the pain that she feels is far greater than any hate I have ever had for any one person or thing. I hate this. I hate being a caregiver for the pain that does not care about me.
I know that love conquers hate. I know that I am not going anywhere, because the vows I made to my wife are very important to me. I know below all the levels of pain, that she is suffering with, that the woman I married and fell in love with is there. I hope for little moments that sometimes come as random as rainbows are visibly seen to everyone. I hope that one day the doctors can find the right mix of meds to make her at least at a manageable pain level of 2 or even possibly zero.
I hate that sometimes I just randomly cry, like I am doing now. Because hate is in my heart for this thing called PAIN. I hate this.
For all my fellow caregivers, we are almost in our own sorority/fraternity. The hate is branded on me like the many other brands I already have. I know the pain. I hate this.
Simply put, I hate that I could even write this.
I hate this.
by me, Jay Morrow