Monday, February 8, 2010

The Siren's Call

Every time Dave leaves the house, I insist that he take his cell phone with him.  It isn't really so that I can get him to pick up a gallon of milk at the last minute, or ask how is day went.  After all, he doesn't really understand well without facial cues ever since his stroke.  No, I just want to check and make certain he is ok.

Especially when he is driving the kids around, I get a bit paranoid.  OK, so it's been, what four-and-a-half years since his stroke?  I have to have some credit - he did get into one car accident with Rowan in the backseat.  He said he was distracted because she was fussy at the time, hence missed the guy right in front of him who stopped at a red light.  That sort of distraction was a result of the stroke - he was concentrating so hard on what she was saying and wanting, and having a hard time hearing it (he has greater trouble understanding high-pitched voices, like a little girl whining, or my mother laughing).  And right after his initial stroke, he had a series of TIA's while we were driving around to his therapy appointments.  Kinda scary, even when you know what it is.

So just a few minutes ago, I heard a siren whizz past the house, coming from the direction that my husband and daughter travelled just a short while ago.  I thought, "No problem, they are headed away from where he is."  Then I saw the State Police Helicopter circle overhead.  Not good.  He landed at a nearby church.  Really not good.  They only land around here when there has been a horrible car accident, and the occupants need to be medivacked into University of Maryland Shock Trauma.  A fine facility, mind you, just not where I want my husband and daughter to be.

So is this where they are?  Probably not.  After all, these fears are mostly my paranoia.  But we just received 23" of snow, the roads are still being cleared, and Dave did not take his cell phone with him.  I have to swallow the fear until he returns.  And let me tell you, if he has hurt my daughter in any way.....

2 comments:

The Aphasia Decoder.... said...

I trust Dave made it home okay? I understand you're worrying when he's gone. It's natural in your position. That doesn't make you paranoia. It just makes you a caregiver/spouse. No one knows our guys as well as we do to know what kinds of trouble they can get into.

It's nice to see you blogging again!

Chartreuse said...

I have just added your inspiring blog to the list of 'Blogs I follow', so please keep those posts coming.

I cannot imagine how you cope with all that's on your plate. I'm a caregiver too - my husband has primary progressive aphasia (PPA) - but we're both retired and I don't have a lot else to worry about (except limited finances due to early retirement, a house and an acre of garden to care for by myself, and like you, having to make ALL the decisions about everything).

So we know we'll have to live with this for the rest of Allen's life, as PPA only ever progresses in one direction: downhill. And while it's not the retirement model I had in mind, we're holding our own against the ravages of this cruel form of mental deterioration.

It's a big help to me when I read about other caregivers' experiences, thoughts and feelings. It can get quite lonely in this role, as I'm sure you know. Please keep up your blogging when you have time and energy. I'll be watching for your posts.

I blog at Doonan diddly-squat. Drop in sometime.