Role Reversal

My husband has been the caregiver since my surgery on 3/9.  While he cleaned the kitchen and took the dog out, I wondered if this would always be the dynamic in our relationship.  It's felt like it lately.  I'm the invalid, the weakling, the sickie, and he's the robust healthy one. 

I suddenly got my chance to be the caregiver on Saturday.  He missed a step in the garage and fell, breaking his arm.  I was proud that I stayed calm and focused in the face of emergency, finding an urgent care center online and ushering him into the car.  He kept insisting that it was probably just a sprain but I immediately knew it was broken.  Two of my friends' daughters have broken their arms in the past month so I was already thinking the worst, and it seems like arms tend to break, not sprain, when you fall on them.  And I could tell he was in a lot of pain.

The good news is that he doesn't need surgery or even a cast.  The orthopedist wants him to move his arm when he can—apparently this type of break doesn't require immobilization.  It's so nice to see his arm out in the open again, not wrapped up in layers of plaster and ace bandage.

He's needed a lot of help—putting on clothes, adjusting his sling, driving.  He's not supposed to drive for 2 weeks, so I'm in chauffeur mode, taking him to appointments and to and from work.  By taking care of him, I feel like I'm paying him back for all the times he's picked up my prescriptions, cooked dinner, cleaned up.  I know my score-keeping is ridiculous and that's not what marriage (or any relationships) are about, but it is nice not to be the patient for once.

*****
I'm in Panera now, which is a good thing because I'd be too embarrassed to start crying here.  It's been a rough couple of days.  Of course, my husband's broken arm has been a major stressor.  Then there was a pregnancy announcement yesterday that left me bawling in my office.  Still feeling fragile from the announcement, I saw my pain doctor this morning and got depressing news.  She's increasing my gabapentin dose, which is exactly the opposite of what I'd hoped would happened.

I know I'm not powerless in the patient/doctor relationship and could have insisted that it's time to taper off.  But it's really not.  Just when I think I'm doing better, my pain will come back and kick me in the butt.  I took a slow 2-mile walk last Friday with some coworkers at lunchtime, and by the evening I felt awful.  Saturday morning, I made an unwise decision to do some more walking, this time around an outdoor festival in my town.  Cue more pain.

So I know the right call now is to increase my meds, not taper off, but it's devastating to hear my doctor say it.  This means more time off of TTC, more time for my newly pregnant friend to progress in her pregnancy and leave me behind, more time for other friends to get pregnant and have babies #2 and #3, more time for my sister to sell her kids' old baby stuff because I can't bear to have any more of it in my house.  More time to grieve.  I want to move on.

My next appointment with the pain doc is in early July, and I fully expect to stay on the meds until then.  I need to suck it up and cancel my 3D sono appointment, telling my favorite scheduler that I'm not sure when I'll be able to reschedule it.

*****
I didn't realize physical therapy involved so much nudity.  At my last appointment, I stripped down to my underwear—even my bra had to be taken off.  I had on a skimpy hospital gown, which my physical therapist held open at regular intervals to check out my spine, hipbones, and pelvis.  At least she was thorough. 

Despite the flashbacks to RE appointments that my nude contortions inspired, I really liked my physical therapist.  My second appointment is today and I hope she can make some further inroads as to what's going on.  Based on our first appointment, my walking issues, and the current location of my pain, I think my major issues are with my nerves and muscles in my pelvic floor.  I'm doing my PT exercises religiously and eager to get more, even though PT is boring as hell.  At least I'm getting a little bit of exercise.

*****
If you haven't gone there already, please head over to see Belle at Scrambled Eggs.  She is going through a miscarriage and could use all of your support.  My heart goes out to her.