Makes me stronger

Sometimes, an almost day off is worse than the delivery days when I have to unload 2 pallets of soda. 

As you know, I am battling a depression.  My husband is battling diabetes.  This morning he woke up with yet more diabetic blisters.  Here's a link.  http://www.diabetescare.net/content_detail.asp?id=813  They are really uncommon, etc. 

In Ron's case, they almost always break open and form ulcers.  I will not put up a link because they always have horrid photos.  Then the ulcers get infected! 

We have had two rounds of this, a third rogue blister that stayed closed, two rounds of antibiotics.  It's been awful for me and him. 

I have to peroxide and put antibiotic ointment, taking care to use a fresh q-tip or cotton pad on every ulcer to prevent cross contamination.  See, if Ron has a badly infected ulcer, and I apply ointment to it, then use the same applicator to an uninfected blister, I'll spread the infection. 

I feel a lot of pressure on this, as a caregiver the medical professional is always scrutinizing me.  I think, in part, because Ron's case is just so wierd, they think I might have done something. 

Why would I ever do that?  It makes for a ton of work.  I don't want to do toilet issues, if you get my drift, God forbid it went there.  I would, but I would really strongly prefer to avoid it.  If I can do anything, I would rather not be married to a one-legged or no-legged half paralyzed blind man, ya know? 

I was not happy to see a fresh crop of blisters this morning.  Ron swore he didn't drink, and I believe him.  I could tell by his attitude, he was acting very betrayed, rather than victimized (there is a difference).  He did admit he ate about 40 grams of carbs at one time, and then snacked on an additional 30 some carbs in peanuts.  His blood sugar was 127 this morning. 

So, I sighed and got to work.  Clean all the old ulcers, including some hangers on from round one.  One is still about the size of a quarter, on his right calf.  Then clean up round two.   About half of them did not get infected.  Thank God.  The round 3 blister still looks bad, but is closed and not infected.  I'll take that.  Round 4.  Fresh, raw.  Some had already broken open and run together with a half-healed round 2 blister.  UGH. 

I got pretty upset when I saw Ron reaching for his wand massager.  The last thing his leg needs is any kind of friction.  It carries warnings: "Don't use if diabetic" "Don't use on open wounds" "Don't use if you have poor circulation" and "Don't use for more than 10 minutes at a time".  It is very useful for use on a muscle cramp, but Ron sleeps with it. 

In fact, as he demonstrated how he held it, he kept putting it right next to the blisters.  I have to think it is a factor.  I told him about all the warnings and he got very angry at me.  Almost as angry as he used to get if I mentioned giving up alcohol.   He started yelling at me, and God. 

I just said, "It's your legs.  I don't want you to lose a leg, I'm just asking you to stop using it until your legs heal".  He called me back and tried to tell me it wasn't a strong friction, and I reminded him of all the warnings.  I bet money this has happened before. 

Boy, LOTS of data.  Don't ever massage near a pressure sore or diabetic blister.  I also learned that Ron has stage 2 and stage 3 ulcers.  Not really something I wanted to know, but useful. 

I told Ron, who was very recptive.  He kind of shoved his massager at me earlier, so it's out of service. 

Ron was very receptive to the idea of eating his "big meal" during the day so I can check his sugar afterward.  I got him some BBQ vienna sausages.  He tried them and really liked them.  They are not affecting his blood sugars.  I got him some more hot peanuts (portion controlled) with the understanding he would go easy on them. 

I was feeling pretty beat down and unappreciated.  I went and did my God Time.  It is sad I have to be so secretive about it; otherwise I get to hear a tirade about how God doesn't "deserve" my worship. 

Uh, dude.  My soul, my God, my worship.  Try to stop me.  Try. 

So, I did that.  I put up a couple prayer requests online.  I felt better. 

We went to Walmart.  Ron hadn't tried the sausages yet, but wanted more.  I was happy to shove several more cans in the cart.  I doubt he will find many problems if he eats primarily protein and fat.  Like he said "I don't miss the bread" when he eats fast food sandwiches. 

I decided to do a good deed.  Now, God says in the Bible (but I can't find the verse!) "Don't talk about every good deed.  You've already gotten your reward, and you won't get one in Heaven".   Got it!  Matthew 6:1
[ Do Good to Please God ] “Take heed that you do not do your charitable deeds before men, to be seen by them. Otherwise you have no reward from your Father in heaven.

So, I won't talk about it.  I'll just say it involves a little work and that's a good thing.  It kept me busy until my meds kicked in (I take the antidepressant first thing) and I felt better. 

It was interesting when we checked out, and I will talk about this.  I had some bagged up snacks with scripture booklets.  They had taffy, bit of honey, small bag of peanuts, pretzel sticks with cheese dip, some hard candy, and gum.   Driver candy, or "goodie bags". 

I had a shopping cart full of soda, for our secondary location, and personal items for me.  Metrolift was due in 15 minutes, but could be there imminently.  Ron was waiting by the door. 

A woman got permission to cut in front of one woman, cut in front of the man behind me without asking, and then tried to cut in front of me, asking.  The man behind me was black.  She was not.  I found that significant. 

I told her "No, I can't let you cut, Metrolift, my ride, is coming any minute".  She got very upset and made a lot of comments to man behind me like "I'd only be a minute" and "Some people are just so rude." - little realizing the supreme irony of the last statement.  I wanted to say something to her, but decided not to .  She got more upset when I didn't say anything, just cheerfully loaded my stuff and chatting with the cashier. 

Side note, the last time I let someone cut they waved somone over with a bursting shopping cart, then went back into the store a couple times for more items.  I resolved to NEVER do that again. 

What, you may wonder, was the all-important item?  Cigarrettes.  I hate cigarrettes.  They killed my mother.  They are obnoxious and give me headaches.  The LAST thing I would do is let someone cut in front of me so they could buy smokes. 

It got better.  "I just had surgery" she whined. And you're smoking, I thought.  Thanks for running up my Medicare.   The guy asked her when "Oh, a few weeks ago..." I wanted to roll my eyes. 

I could feel her staring at me, and looking at my things on the cart.  So what.  Ron likes BBQ vienna sausage.   She continued telling the guy in the back how she was such a victim, and so unfair to wait on me checking out because I wouldn't let her go ahead, it would have been just a minute, etc. 

I thought, you know, here's a really good opportunity.  The Bible tells me:

 

Matthew 5:44

New King James Version (NKJV)

⁴⁴ But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you,^[a]

 

I decided to do it, just for fun.  I gave her a goodie bag.  She wouldn't take it until the cashier said I'd given her one, too.  She just gaped at me. 

 

It was so much fun, and worth every comment.  She asked me "Why are you doing this?" (implied, after I was so rude to you) and I said "I like to spoil people". 

 

"Gotta go" I told her "My ride's comin' any minute". 

 

I had time to get a snack and then we headed over to the secondary location.  We got that stocked and I got a few little things I needed. 

 

I came home and had my first nap without nightmares, in about a week.  I have been plagued with wierd dreams and nightmares, during this depression. 

 

I guess I need to pray for a better night's sleep.