Parking lot

Hideous migraine today. 

I am happy I didn't puke.  Even better we could afford to miss work - sales are slow. 

I got up, took a shower, did most of my God time, and curled in a ball.  I managed to sleep a little. 

It was fairly quiet except for the garbage truck, and God knows I want him coming. 

When I got up, Ron wanted to sit on the porch for a while, which meant we had to move his wheelchair to make room for the walker to get to the door.  But where to put the wheelchair? 

That's one thing I didn't consider after Ron's accident, my home has become a parking lot for mobility devices!  The walker, the wheelchair, the backup wheelchair (that one's out of the way), commode chair (the last time it was used, 3 years ago during our bathroom repair), etc. 

Where to put it all? 

I have a pretty cluttered home and the devices crowd it up pretty fast.  If we're not going out, I put the wheelchair in front of the door.  Ron does use it at work and malls.  The walker generally stays in the Man Cave.  He needs it to get to the bathroom and kitchen. 

Let's look at both, when Ron's in the bathroom I have to squeeze in around the walker.  The bathroom is maybe 80 square feet, same with the kitchen.  When Ron's in the kitchen that's it.  I can't get in myself.  I have to either ask him to move, or wait. 

Generally I wait.  I like to see myself as a patient person. 

I'm very glad we have these devices.  Life would be hell for us otherwise. 

When I was dating Ron, my adoptive Mom had a talk with me one day.  She told me Ron's earning potential was pretty limited, was I prepared to possibly become the breadwinner?  I wouldn't be a stay at home anything.  I said I was fine with that, and we have always lived pretty cheaply. 

She also mentioned, and I considered myself: Ron is a lot older than me (20 years).  I figured he would break down first, and require assistance.  Yeah, even at 17, I'm thinking.  I figured I would be "fine" with that, and usually I am. 

It really has not been a problem.  There are times I privately wish to myself, I wish I could ask Ron to go to the stockroom and bring me a ___, but because he's blind he can't.  There are times I just want to get in the kitchen!  Other times I get tired of reading the same thing for him 5 times because he's too proud to use his recorder. 

For me, though, the dominant issue has been the drinking/verbal abuse.  I find that the most upsetting.  Today he was shouting at God and I had to remind him I had a migraine.  He got an attitude. 

Sorry I get a really nasty migraine generally twice a year.  You're one to talk about "broken down". 

Ron always carries on, he didn't know he'd end up like this, he's sorry.  He didn't know.  He seems to think the physical assistance issues overwhelm everything else. 

I just want to tell him "I don't care, just please don't call me a bitch!"