How well do you really know your spouse?

In the beginning of any serious relationship, you want to know every little detail about each other. What movies does he like? What kind of music is she interested in? What does he like to eat? How does he take his coffee? Is she into books or sports ? Or both? How many other significant relationships have they had? And on and on it goes.

But after a while, you settle into a comfortable routine. You have separate interests, careers, and roles within the relationship or household. And (if you're lucky) you have Intimacy. Those intense and very special moments together (as you go about the every-day busy-ness of life) are to be cherished. Love deepens and passion takes a back seat for a while (not lost, but simmering just below the surface).

However, when you become the primary Caregiver to your spouse, a different kind of Intimacy evolves - not the kind you wholeheartedly threw yourself into when first married.
Sex has nothing to do with it. In fact sex is a distant memory as it now falls into the category of aerobics. Breathing is Hubby's first priority. And if you don't breathe, you don't do anything else. Period.

As time passes and this incidious disease progresses, Hubby is slowly giving up his independent self. I check his bodily functions daily. Does "input" equal "output"? Is he taking his medications? Washing?

For the last few years now, I have had to help Hubby with bathing and dressing. How demeaning, not to be able to take a shower (hand movements tire him out and lower his 02 sats), or step into and out of the bathtub alone. If I'm not home - he doesn't bathe.

A body is a body is a body and we each have one, so that's not the Intimacy I'm referring to here. It's the thoughts going through his head, the feelings in his heart.
In the beginning of a relationship every emotion and thought pales in comparison to Love. We are saturated with Love. How do you feel? In Love. What are you thinking about? Love! As time passes, Love settles comfortably over everything, like a dustcover, and the rest of our emotions and thoughts can come out to play.

Sitting in our sunny kitchen at lunchtime today, I found myself truly listening to what Hubby found interesting enough to share with me. When he talks football or hockey my eyes glaze over. Same with finance. He knows it. I know it. I smile and nod and then talk about what interests me. Often it's the grandchildren, or gardening (yes, even in January). He listens and hungrily jumps in with two feet. He gives me his full attention, whether he "enjoys" that particular topic or not.

But for the first time today, I realized just how important his interests are to him. His world has shrunk. He stays at home. Consequently, watching football or hockey on TV becomes the focus of his day.
The focus of his life.
And I have been missing out on listening to his thoughts, his interpretations and his feelings - which are so important to him at this point in his life.
His life has become a Communication of the Mind. The body hardly participates anymore.

Whether I'm interested in a subject or not, it's the essence of Hubby's {{ Now}} We don't know how much time we each have on this planet. We only have {{ Now}}. And if I miss {{Now}} I am missing a vital part of Hubby's existence.

So I resolve to "pay attention", to hear beyond his words. Is there a plea for Understanding? For Interaction? Reassurance? For intimacy that goes beyond the body?
Is there a voice crying to be heard?

What the heck?

...is going on with the grandkids? My brand-new grandson (5 weeks old today) is just out of surgery to correct a pyloric stenosis. I got the call from my frazzled Elder Son yesterday. He and his wife had spent the afternoon and all night in the Childrens' Hospital. Baby was diagnosed with pyloric stenosis and booked for surgery this morning.

Geez- what a way to begin life!

And my granddaughter (who just had her 1st birthday) has GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease). What's with these babies and their tummies?

Fortunately, this stuff can be corrected today. Baby Grandson with surgery. Baby Granddaughter hopefully without surgery.

My younger son asked "what happened years ago to babies like this?"
"They would die". I told him factually.

He doesn't know what it's like living in a world where babies die routinely from infections or conditions correctable only through surgery. Come to think of it - neither do I. I grew up with antibiotics and vaccinations. I remember my mother giving me horrible-tasting medicine in the middle of the night. In those days they had to wake us "round the clock" for antibiotics. My sister and I had our tonsils out and one of my brothers was rushed to hospital for an appendectomy.

Today, not only do we have state-of-the-art equipment, diagnostic tools and medications, but internet information, message boards and support sites for every condition under the sun.

There's a strong wind howling outside today. Treetops blowing around crazily like upside down brooms, look like they might snap off and zap our roof! A downpour of freezing rain kept me from going out this morning; not only because of hazardous driving conditions, but also the constant fear of a power outage. It's always worse in winter. Ten years ago we had that famous "ice storm" that plunged us in darkess for almost 3 weeks. Fortunately, Hubby did not have COPD then. A power outage was inconvenient.
Now it's life-threatening.

This weird weather usually brings on headaches. Hubby feels out-of-sorts. But today, he's having a Good Day. His rehab exercises went well this morning. And when he can do his exercises without fatigue, or having-to-stop-because-his-heartrate-is-too-high-or-his-oxygen- sats-too-low, we celebrate!!

Strange weather, sick babies, and well COPD'ers. Is this how we learn to "expect the unexpected"???

Passing on Good Energy

On my way to my granddaughter's birthday party, I pulled into a gas station.
Looking around I noticed that all pumps were full and I'd have to wait in line. Oh no! Who wants to spend Saturday afternoon in a gas station???

I had 3 choices:
1) I could come back later (but would probably forget).
2) I could wait impatiently and become frustrated (blowing things out of proportion only makes them worse - they'd probably charge me the wrong price or mix up my credit card).
3) I could assemble the birthday gift in the car while waiting for the Gas Guy (yes, I've done that before - what a rotten grandma).

I chose door # 3.

Leaning over the back seat, I transferred gift and wrappings to my lap. The frilly baby dresses I wrapped in pink tissue, plopped them in the gift-bag and was sprinkling chocolate valentine hearts over it all, when I was startled by the Gas Guy appearing at my window.

"Combien, Madame?"

"Fill it up, please - rempli" (in Quebec our conversations are usually carried out half in English and half in French).

Gee that was quick! My spirits picked up instantly. He fitted the nozzle into the gas tank and was just turning towards another car when my hand reached out the window, thrusting the last few valentine hearts in his face.

"Veux-tu une chocolate?" I asked, offering him one.

"Merci", he answered looking genuinely pleased.
He popped the chocolate into his mouth and went back to the other customers.

I was feeling Good, so I passed the Energy on to him.

My next stop was Reno Depot - a hardware store that stocks a wonderful selection of fresh flowers. I picked up a pot of pretty pink tulips (try saying that one with your mouth full!) and a matching container to put them in.
The cashier was a sweet young girl who just scanned the bottom of the container, thinking that the tulips were part of the arrangement.

Hmm - do I tell her she made a mistake? Or take the tulips and run?
I chose #2.

And passed Good Energy on to my granddaughter.

Happy Birthday Granddaughter!

Yesterday it was my Granddaughter's First Birthday!
I can't believe a whole year has gone by. That first year of a new baby's life is filled with wonder and delight!
What I loved the most was watching my Daughter bond with her baby.
This is something only a grandparent can observe.

Over the months of her first year, Daughter and her daughter became closer, more in tune with each other. I could see Love developing and deepening. It takes more time for baby and daddy to develop this bond, but that is only natural. Daddies don't have breasts.

When you're in the middle of raising your own children, there is precious little time for reflection.
You take things as they come and "just do it" - whatever that may be. So as a grandma, I can sit back and enjoy. The hard thing to do is to keep my mouth shut. It is so tempting to tell the younger generation how to raise their kids. After all, in my time - I've been there, done that.

But Time marches on. A New Year has begun and with it, the cycle of birthdays to celebrate. Each child will be a year older. Some will be reaching milestones this year - my eldest grandchild will be starting high school in the fall. Baby boy, who was born just after Christmas last year will be celebrating his First Birthday in December 2008.

As a young person, I never looked this far ahead into life (who does in their youth - and why should they?). School, friends, marriage and babies were on the agenda. Becoming a Grandparent? Egads! That concept was so far away, I couldn't even imagine it.

Well, now it's here. A time to slow down and celebrate the good things in life.

Something weird happened in the night.

I don't sleep well at night.
When my husband was first diagnosed with COPD, I would awaken several times during the night to make sure he was breathing.
This became a pattern.
Now, I rarely sleep a full night. Actually never. I always wake up for some reason.

For a long time Hubby blamed my insomnia on hormones. He didn't want to feel responsible for my wakefulness. He was partly right. Hot flashes are not conducive to a good night's sleep.

I have learned over the past year that I must stop checking on Hubby constantly. Whatever will be will be. I cannot change his COPD. I cannot stop his disease process. I cannot "save" him when he stops breathing forever.

Last night, I was sound asleep. Actually, it was in the wee hours of the morning.
Probably around 4:00 or 5:00.
"WENDY!!!" someone yelled.
I awoke with a start!
Who was that? And why did they yell at me?

Instinctively, I reached over and put my hand on Hubby's back (he was sleeping on his stomach). I thought it felt still. No reassuring up and down movement.

So, I smacked him - not too hard, but enough to make him roll around.

What had just happened?
Did he really stop breathing for a minute or two? Did I get a real call from a real angel or spirit?
Or was it nothing at all?

Sometimes we try so darn hard.....

...to dance in the rain (or snow) that we end up falling flat on our faces. I'm talking about the quote "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain".

I can't go to work - Hubby needs me at home. I miss the socialization of being out in the workforce, not to mention the paycheque.
So, I'm at home. And it's winter.
I'm happy with this Blog. It lets me be creative, completely on my terms.
But it's still winter.
I need something else to do. Something that will bring in money and make me feel productive. Just until gardening season. Then I'll be outside all day, my hands in the warm Earth.

I saw an ad in the newspaper for a "medical transcriptionist".
I used to do that years ago. I'm sure I can still do medical typing now.
I applied - and got the job.
Then I read the contract and found out how much they pay - actually how little they paid.

I fell flat on my face.
I had imagined this to be such a wonderful business opportunity. I'd rise to the top of the ranks in no time! Look out world-of-stay-at-home-people-who-work-from-home.
I was going to be successful!

I peeked in at Hubby - still peacefully sleeping, totally unaware of my inner chaos.
He has no idea the amount of soul-searching I do when he sleeps.
I could tell he wasn't very happy when I got the job. But I resolved to go ahead anyway - until I read the contract.

Just the thought of working with my left brain instead of my right put me in a tailspin. The money was just the trigger, the straw that broke the camel's back, the perceived insult that got me back on track.

So I think I'll stop dancing in the rain or snow - just let things be for now.
And pretend there is no storm.

And we have our Good Days!

I feel lucky.
We have had a string of Good Days.
Hubby has Energy! Something that is constantly in short supply with COPD'ers.

Is it the bright January sun, streaming through our kitchen windows?
A sun that turns snow drifts into sparkling jewels?

Is it all the sleep he'd had before these Good Days?

Most of the time we never find out. That's the nature of the illness. There will be good days and there will be bad days.

But today, he is chipper (did I really say that?) in good spirits, and his exercise program is going well. Those re-hab exercises are usually the barometer of how Hubby's body is handling his COPD.

The key word here is "usually". There is nothing "usual" about this disease.
There are days when his work-out seems to go well (02 sats stay within normal, heart rate is not too high), but he feels tired or headachey.
Then other days, he feels fine, but his work-out is just that - work!

As I've said before, COPD is a roller-coaster ride.
And at this moment we're flying high!