. . . ponies whinny and stamp their hooves and frolic . . .
Dad's needs are plenteous. The tasks are not horrible, well not most of them at least, but they never end, and they can't be put off as his requests/needs are valid. Mom is staying up too late, and getting up too early (and I bet I'm about to find out if they are still reading this blog), and her days are overly full. I don't think any of us realized how many tasks are involved with home care at this stage of rehab.
He has to be turned and plumbed every four hours day and night. He generates lots of laundry. He needs to have his hips, knees, and ankles put through range of motion exercises 1-2 times daily. He needs his water bottle filled, his glasses and his book, a blanket, a bedsore checked, a pillow refluffed, zillions of pills at appointed times, and of course help moving from bed to chair and chair to bed and bed to chair and chair to bed and bed to chair and, well, you get the point. Each and every day he is stronger, but there is still a ways to go. He's been home about two weeks. Monday is the 5 month marker of the injury.
From his end, he has to ask his over-tired wife for each of these things. I don't really know who has it worse: she for the overwhelming number of tasks, or he for having to be dependent for every little thing.
I so very much want to ride in on my white horse -- as they have done for me, countless times -- and I can't. Because my white horse has two very active, noisy, adorable ponies in tow. And they love the ponies. But the ponies whinny and stamp their hooves and frolic and have to be fed every 20 minutes or so, and it gets to be too much.
So it is a happy/sad Mother's Day for me. Happy that I have two frisky ponies to mother. Sad that I can't be for my Mother all that I would like to be at this season of her life.
paraplegia
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