I can’t really claim I have been transitioning between the two states very well. Yesterday we went for lunch to Riding Mountain National Park. The park is only forty kilometres away but once we get to East Gate, we have another thirty five kilometres of extremely challenging roads to get to the town of Wasagaming. In the past, we have loved this road because we always see some wild life and often it’s a bear. The road goes up several switchbacks and then continues through beautiful wild country with small rivers and wildflowers, little lakes and wide marshes. When the rain is heavy, the road can get washed out. It was raining heavily. Plus in the back of my mind was the fear. It was a seatbelt accident that caused the carotid artery dissection so I worried the whole way even with the new seatbelt cushion and head rest. When a deer ran out in front of us crossing the road I didn’t gasp at the beauty and grace as I have in the past. I cursed the need for a sudden stop. He slept through it all.
We had a lovely time visiting friends and eating lunch. I watched to see if he got the fatigued look. He did, but when I asked if we should leave early he assured me he felt fine. We ran into our son, daughter-in-law and youngest of our two grandsons and had a happy reunion at the art gallery where our luncheon host had her work on display. What a bright spot of joy that was! We stopped for gelato. He was the charming host insisting on paying for everyone in our group. It was good to see my lover back. We left and started the drive back. He fell asleep slumping over the seatbelt and I woke him immediately and insisted he put down his head rests and not droop over the seatbelt. He didn’t listen. I had to tell him twice. I don’t like that. He is an adult. His wife should not nag him. His wife should not have to remind him how to behave. Lover to caregiver again.
He perked up on the drive through the park after a short nap. My lover was back. We enjoyed the drive through the park back to east gate together talking like the damned dissection had never happened. We stopped at the overlook to take a selfie like the damned dissection had never happened. This spot has many fond memories of many fine trips with friends and family. It’s sort of a tradition to stop here and look towards home. It was just like the damned dissection never happened. Once we were out of the park, he slept all the way home, not even waking completely when I stopped to fill up on gas. Once home, he was cranky and out of sorts. His computer wouldn’t start properly and he was angry and ready to spend hours on the phone with Apple support even though he was still exhausted. I stopped him. I fixed the problem. It was trivial. He should have known that fix but he was too tired to think straight. Afterward he apologized for being cranky.
Today he complained he is too tired to do much of anything. We go out for a six hour spell for an easy lunch with friends and a short stop at an art gallery and a nice drive and he needs the next day to recover. I tell him it’s okay. I tell him this is normal. I am patient and kind. I remind him this three day camping trip he hopes to make with friends in a couple of weeks is likely not a good idea. He’s not recovered yet. He agrees. Again I am left feeling like his caregiver not his lover.
This is normal after a carotid artery dissection they say. This is the way it will be until he recovers. This may be the new normal. I may have to live with these odd moments of caregiving in order to have the sweet moments remaining with my lover. It is a price I am willing to pay even if I would prefer not to. How many widows would pay far more for far less? Still it would have been better to not have to pay this price at all. it would be better if the damned dissection had never happened.