I am SO NOT a nurse! Not enough empathy, not enough patience, high level of squeamishness and not enough curiosity about the human body and its functions. If it works, I tend not to pay attention to it. SOoooo now I find myself playing nurse for Peter. I know that already this is going to sound rather callous and I don’t mean it to be because the fact is I do care – what I’m really referring to is his inability to be a “good patient” at home. I believe that you have to do what they tell you to do because they told you to do it for a reason.
This is Peter's Private Nurse
It started with the surgeon, then the RN, then the LPN, then the Physician’s Assistant and the Nurse’s Aide and even the pharmacist- they all said “YOU HAVE GOT TO WALK” !! Apparently walking is the absolute mandate and cure-all for what is ailing him. If he walks, then the gas they pumped into his stomach will move down and out, if he walks and the gas moves then he will feel better, and when he feels better he will want to eat – of course he can’t eat until the gas does move and consequently he doesn’t eat and takes a pain pill and then he’s dizzy and nauseous and then he doesn’t want to walk or eat. NOW can you see the crazy merry-go-round we are on? Also he somehow has misinterpreted the vow of in sickness and in health to mean I am now the RN, LPN and Aide all rolled into one. Again let me clarify, I am happy to keep track of his meds and when he should take them and prepare soft foods and keep him supplied with tea, Gatorade, apple juice, ice water and anything else my prince desires. However, there are some things he really should do for himself. The nurse showed him how to take care of incisions and how to work with and clean the equipment they sent home. He doesn’t want to. He can’t. Uh huh doesn’t this sound like a child who doesn’t want to do a chore you have assigned knowing full well they are capable of doing??? He woke me up at 7:30am this morning demanding that I help him. When I suggested it was a little early to get up on a Sunday morning, he yelled that he couldn’t stay in bed anymore because he couldn’t stand lying on his back. This was NOT a good way for us to start the day.
Right now as I sit here typing my frustrations away, he is watching television. A half hour ago I finally got him out of the house, dressed, shaved and we were to go for a good long walk. By the time we got to the corner, he said he didn’t feel well. We walked one block and crossed the street and that was it for him. He accused me of not being a good wife, not understanding how sick he feels and he wanted to go home. Let me add that before we went out, I finally got some soft food into him; scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes (apparently he was fine then). And now that he is sitting in the air-conditioned house he is fine.
THE PROBLEM IS HE IS SUPPOSED TO WALKING 2-3 MILES A DAY!!!
Sometimes a blog is just a rant – file me under raving lol lol.
Bill Ding and his band of clowns are the security patrol for this blog site. He is a favorite toy from the 50*s. By the way sometimes a blog is just an ego-maniacal stream of conscience.
Pbenjay's Blog 
Hi Lori:
I totally get you. I am in not quite the same situation, but my mother is in the last stages of demenita, and has lived with us for the last 10 months. I keep track of her meds, help her dress, put her to bed, and its a never ending merry go round. I am honored to do this for her, and luckily, we contacted Hospice who gave me 5 days respite.
On the other hand, my sister’s husband had a kidney transplant a year and a half ago. She keeps track of everything, tries to persuade him to walk, eat, socialize a bit, and he is NOT having it. The pressure on her is enormous. His appetite has changed and she never knows what to give him to eat. She says she hasn’t cooked a decent meal in a year. It is so very hard being a caregiver. My heart goes out to you.
Double oy. Just to take some pressure off the 2 of you let me tell you that what “they” say is actually not so draconian.
Sure, as soon as he can walk he should walk. However, what “got to walk” really means is “got to move his legs”.
For example, if while sitting and whatching TV in air conditioned splendor he could kinda march in place with his legs, let’s say, during commercials, that would be great and accomplish the goal of not letting blood clots form. Or put on some music and do a seated rumba–seriously. As his body tells him, he should indeed actually try to walk a little more each day. But he must listen to his body.
of course you’re right Dr. B! He finally went around the block tonight just once and even ate some spaghetti!
Now atsa good news! Bravo, Lori e Pietro!