About caregiverbobby

As strokesurvivorannie's caregiver, I plan to use this corner to communicate tips for being a caregiver that are practical, authentic, helpful, optimistic, and share the humorous side. You get a different person back from the hospital. The elasticity of the brain will let the old and new personality develop, but you have to be patient.



Thursday, June 2, 2011

Five Years Later...

The resiliency of the human spirit is amazing. I can remember a couple times where I wanted to – and did – run screaming through the woods from frustration and grief. But mostly I remember the progress. Medical studies on the brain have come a long way in the last five or six years. Unfortunately, it is mostly due to military injury. But I am completely amazed by the brain and its possibilities.

Annie lost 40 -50% of her brain. Gone. Yet she is writing, learning Spanish, dealing with contractors while I travel and generally running things. Sure, there is apparent damage in mobility and thought processes, but nothing like we were lead to expect. Elasticity. Great word.

Tough love, Coach, Sergeant Major and a few unprintable monikers have preempted “Bob” from time to time. Never let up. Never quit. Never admit defeat. Five years later, I’m making trips to the Middle East and Annie is on her own. We did it through hard work and determination. Patience is not one of my virtues.

We made a plan. First order, stop the bathroom support. Nothing in ones wildest dream will kill ardor faster than the most private of moments. But someone had to do it. Took a few months, but we then had something else to work on. Second order, ditch the wheelchair. I got so tired of loading and unloading that damn thing, shipping it, cleaning it after it cruised through everything dropped on the ground, and the only good news was my shoulders never looked better. The method, “If you won’t walk we simply won’t go,” started Annie walking. It took many months, but she did it. She didn’t want to be left out.

I think we tend to marginalize the handicapped, or “handicapable,” as we now prefer to say. I know I used to avoid eye contact, change sides of the street and generally avoid any discussion with someone in a wheelchair or obviously impaired. I didn’t want to get in a conversation because I was afraid of the dialog. I learned. I’d heard so many stories about significant others who split when faced with a crisis like this, I was determined not to be one of those people. I have been rewarded with seeing something I never thought possible – an example of human resilience at its very best.


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