I was able to sleep about half the night. I had to help Ron into bed a total of 3 times. I could do it but it reminded me of when I'm lifting weights, want to be careful, feel the strain but not too bad.
As a result, I cancelled today's workout. I had felt the lifting a little in my butt, and back, today and don't want to push it. My spine was OK but one of my "lats" was a little angry.
I got up and took a shower, got Ron up. Got him dressed. Someone banged on the door while I was helping Ron with his sandals. It was the driver, early, rushing us. I hate it when they do that. I had to stop dressing Ron, go up front, tell the driver we were coming, go BACK to Ron, finish. Frustrating. And he was 10 minutes early.
We came out before the pickup and Ron wanted to ride in the back. There was a woman, another one of those "not apparently disabled" ladies with tons of groceries, sitting in the only seat he can use. She wouldn't have moved for him so Ron had to ride in the back. The driver seemed surly.
The driver actually lives near us. He was a regular cab driver for a while, but the times we called he was never available. Then he decided to open a lawn care service, but the market on that is saturated with illegals and he probably charged too much. Having failed at 2 ventures, he decided to become a paratransit driver. But he is surly about it because he wanted to make it on his own, not working for someone. Well, that doesn't always work.
He took the longest, bumpiest, road, not going gently either. Ron's sitting in his wheelchair in the back compartment bumping up and down as the driver went down a "tore-up" road. We finally got to the bank. He unloaded Ron and shoved him at me.
I went to the door of the bank and found someone to open it for us. I thanked them (a mechanic, from his uniform) and went inside. Ron wanted me to sort through some $5's for him. I did that. He asked me to give him a few back and take the rest to the window. We went to the window.
There was a mexican guy and a black guy at the window. Neither spoke very good English. They were trying to conduct a transaction. When the teller asked the mexican guy to swipe his (bank) ATM card he backed out and said he wouldn't do it. So that was the end of that.
Then we had "Tell me the balance on each of my accounts, which are several, then let's do some transfers and take out some cash". In the meantime a black lady was shouting and accusing the bank of persecuting her because they wanted some sort of documentation.
Finally our turn. She sorted the money and turned the $1's into $20s, did the deposit, etc. The man behind us got very impatient. I think he was manic. He was literally jumping from foot to foot, banging on the divider pole, jingling his keys obsessively, etc. Very annoying.
Finally all done. I got my money and stuck it in a safe place (never my bra, that is just disgusting). Ron called Arturo and we went through a drive through. We went home and I got Ron in the house. He had one drink, literally, before he asked me to take him to bed. I did.
I drank my shake and took my pills. I was full so I put my burger in the fridge and took a nap. I woke up after about an hour, with a bad headache. I forgot that vanilla shakes can be a headache trigger. It took me a couple of hours to squash it without using headache pills.
I couldn't find Biscuit's extra bag of treats, I felt awful about it. I finally found them about 20 minutes ago, in the bedroom.
I called my aunt. We had a good talk but what can you say? Not much! I hung up and the depression hit me. I knew it was coming, but it takes a while. Things don't always hit me right away, it takes a while and then look out.
I got an email that my groceries were coming. I went outside. It was a nice day, overcast, breezy, jasmine swaying in the breeze. Like an old song. He arrived and we put everything in the garage. I signed and he left, then I shut the garage door and opened the door to the house. Biscuit was fascinated smelling everything. I put everything away and had a snack, watched a little TV. Ron woke up and went to the kitchen for one more drink, then I took him back to bed. I got him to drink a little soda, better than nothing but I would like to see him downing a quart or two every day. I do that before 9 AM, most days!
I cleaned out the fridge a little. Now I am just waiting until 1. I get hungry so I can eat (no rush because I already took my pills) and 2. mail time. Once the mail arrives I will check it for more talking books. It is amazing to think Ron used to walk out there with his long white cane and check for books. Not he can barely open a bottle.
I told him, as he was getting ready to drink, that a lot of people had doubts about how he could drink with a messed up hand. 'You're not going to help me" he replied. "If I want to drink I have to do it myself." He's right about that!
I am just glad he is being more responsible for now, I was getting tired of picking him off the floor.
I need to figure out when I am going to the store. I am not inclined to do it tomorrow, Chuck will be busy running errands and everyone will want a ride from Arturo. It is likely to rain so that's a factor, too. I will think about it.
Ron still hasn't turned on the A/C. It has been pretty warm lately but he is trying to save money on the bill. I haven't confronted him yet but it is getting a little uncomfortable late afternoon/early evenings.
That's it for now.
14 comments:
You're glad he is being responsible now? It hasn't even been 24 hours since his last drunken, blackout, bingeathon. Give me a break. As for ron and his saying you wont help him drink I call bullshit on that. Just one parrot parroting another. He can raise the vodka to his lips he can drink soda on his own too.
I think you’ve more than earned the right to be able to override him on turning on the air. Plus I don’t know how you can function with it off down there- I have relatives in Houston and with the humidity it’s on most of the year! Maybe turn it on but at a higher temp than usua to help with the bill.
If pressed to offer a theory on why he has trouble with bottled soda and not bottled vodka, I would say the vodka is a bigger bottle and easier to handle. A 20 ounce soda is smaller.
I am basically horrified when I see the limitations he now has. But nothing I could do but help. Today I emptied 2 urinals for him, that was a pretty awful experience but I was about to flush anyway.
Bingeathon. I like that. No, he behaved last night, and this morning decided he wouldn't have a shot because Baby Girl was curled up on his legs. He didn't want to disturb her, getting up.
How could a BIGGER bottle be easier to handle? That makes no sense at all. How wonderful that this man can wheel himself into the kitchen to drink but cannot use the bathroom on his own. Nor can he empty his own damn nasty pee filled bottles into the toilet. He really is filthy. So because he didn't get loaded last night what is your point? More than likely in the next day or so he will be blakcout drunk and urinating and defacating on himself.
And yes this whole christian submissive wife thing is really getting out of control. You have to ask his permission to turn on the A/C. That is insane. With the amount he spends on vodka a month (this includes having a cab driver go get the vodka and then his giving the driver a ridiculous tip) he has no room to talk about expenses.
He has trouble with fine motor movements in the left hand. Gross motor movements are easier, gripping a big thing. For instance, ever noticed that baby toys are pretty large in relation to the baby? That is because they are working on fine motor skills. When babies play, they use gross motor skills and need bigger objects to manipulate.
I chose to empty the bottles so he wouldn't have to do it.
I don't do submissive wife, I think that is abusive. I do loyal wife, not going to toss him out because he is "broken" by most standards. That's not who I am. I made vows to support him and I do. Those vows end at getting him alcohol and he knows that.
Don't forget Ron is anemic and more sensitive to cold. I respect that. I just wish he'd let me give him his shot.
Seems like you are the one doing all the compromising and work in the relationship. And yes you ARE a submissive wife. What about the vows he made to you when you got married, how exactly is all the verbal abuse, refusal to try and help himself (in regards to medical stuff), etc keeping his vows and commitment? He only married you so he could have a caregiver because that is the type of selfish prick he is.
Keep justifying the vodka and when babies have larger toys they are not heavy bottles of vodka or anything heavy which would be impossible for a baby to pick up because they lack strength in their hands. Not to mention how does he hold the cup he supposedly pours the vodka in? That is a lot smaller than the bottle itself. You may be able to bull shit yourself but not me.
I've said this before, he isn't using a cup. Right now it is impossible. I'm not trying to BS anyone. I come here and talk about my life, that is it.
He isn't using a cup, really? This must be a new development based on your 4/19 and 4/24 posts. My god the man can even pour from one glass bottle to a smaller plastic one. He must be a freaking miracle worker when he wants to be. Or is it just when booze is involved?
April 24, 2019
Ron asked if I had seen anything on the internet. I talked to him a little and carefully brought up the subject of portion control "You went from a little cup, to a big one". I found him a portion cup and gave it to him. He said he liked the big cup because he could put ice in it. I told him he could measure in the small cup and then pour it over the ice in the big cup. He didn't like that much.
Ron woke up and started yelling for me. I read him the riot act and told him if I had a whistle I'd be blowing it in his damned ear every 10 minutes. I told him his vodka tasted "too good" and he had no portion control. I told him he couldn't hold his liquor. He just pours 8 ounces in a big cup and drinks that with ice.
April 19, 2019
He put the strawberry into a plastic bottle instead of the glass. He found that challenging and asked for help. I said you know I can't do that but I will suggest pouring a moderate amount into a plastic cup and then pouring that into the funnel. Later on I saw him doing just that.
Ron hasn't used a cup since his probable stroke. I don't know how else to say it. I was shocked he got the vodka from the big glass thing into the plastic bottle, to be honest.
When it comes to alcohol he is VERY determined because he knows I will not help him. If he wants to drink, he has to do it himself. He knows my "help" goes as far as making sure the cats don't get into the garage when he gets a bottle of vodka. That is it. I will not be picking up, moving, pouring, or serving any alcohol for him.
So if he doesn't use a cup then please tell everyone how exactly he does portion control with his vodka.
Right now there is none, and he had the blackout to prove it last night. More later.
You say because he had a stroke he can't do the portion control and that's why he had a blackout. So all the times he has had blackouts before the stroke - what was the excuse then?
If you have been reading this blog for any length of time you would realise Ron was quite independent before getting hit by a truck. He didn't marry a caregiver.
@ portion control, because he failed to practice portion control. Like he told me this morning, he likes to pick up the bottle and glug glug glug. That was probably the most honest he's been about his drinking, in a while.
@ Independence, yes, Ron used to fly cross country by himself, cross very busy streets, take both a bus and a commuter train to work, get up on the 3rd floor roof by himself (I am scared of heights) and work on his ham radio antenna by himself, etc. He needed very little - me to read him his mail and help with the laundry and shopping. He was top of his class in the vendor training program. Then someone ran a red light.
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