Our newest family member

So we have just adopted our new sibling for our white cat, Xena. Like most new additions to a family, there is an immediate reaction of rejection, forcing our new male cat Milo to hide in fear.

Most times Milo will venture out from behind the couch when we call him. He comes to sniff our hand and stays long enough for a quick pat on the head, but that's it.

We are hoping that he and Xena will eventually get on and we console ourselves that it is early days yet.

Not particularly wanting another cat, we couldn't resist taking him off family member's hands as they no longer wanted a cat. We couldn't bear the thought that he would be taken to the pound and maybe euthanised.

Chris and I love cats and with both of us being chronically ill, we find they help us relax and increase our enjoyment of life.

We both agree that the joyful company of two felines will be worth any initial trouble between Milo and Xena and the extra fibro pain as I clean up after them.

If it doesn't settle, down we figure that Milo needs us as much as she does. 

So far today I have made an apple pie with Hermesetas for sweetening. On the stove a Dutch oven holds my pumpkin soup.

I am hoping the enticing smells will make Milo hungrier as he hasnt touched any food since he got here.

Xena has eaten but is now on the guest bed chasing the sun... obviously keeping her distance from our newest family member.

I can dream, can't I?

 

So I was visiting Chris at the hospital after his stroke, and was making painful slow steps with my walker along the miles of corridors to the lift.

Suddenly I was met by a rather large robotic sweeper cleaning the floors. He was almost as tall as me, and moved at about the same speed.

I knew that after I got off the lift that there would be a lot more walking to do until I got to my husband's room. And I was already feeling breathless and exhausted.

My fibro was flaring, my knees were hurting and my heart was paining me. Breathing was an effort, so much so that I almost felt the need to hang my arms around its neck and hitch a ride...

I smiled wryly to myself as I pushed the button in the lift to the Avon floor where Chris's room was. It will only be a matter of time before we have automated wheelchairs ready to whisk us to wherever we need to go in these places.

I could just see it in my mind's eye, gladly sitting in one whilst holding onto Chris's sportsbag of freshly laundered pajamas and toiletries for his stay.. 

These robotic AI directed chairs will have to have a name... and then a direction... yes, I can see it now, "Morning, Jeeves! I am glad you are here! Take me to Avon, and don't spare the horses!"... 

As I limped along, I thought how wonderful these chairs would be, but they won't probably be available in my life time... but meanwhile, I can dream, can't I?

                                       

Advice put into action

 

I have had a perfectionist streak all my life, but in the last twenty or so years of fibromyalgia and other ill health, I have had to learn to be content with a more relaxed approach to my home making.

Where once I would be consumed with (false) guilt because I made our bed without four corner tucks or I had the blankets bumpy on the bed, I have had to make do with a more lenient approach. I simply don't have the energy to do four corner tucks. However, even the bed made up quickly and sporting a lump here or there, is extremely satisfying to me now that I've gotten past the perfectionism.

Mornings are no longer the time for house keeping. I have to fit in what I can over however long it takes me... and be content at the end of the day that I actually got it done...

I no longer allow cleaning schedules to dictate to me what I must achieve in any given day or time frame: it gets done more or less within the schedule but on a time of my choosing. It's the only way a Sacrificial Home Keeper can manage..

In saying that I am no longer a perfectionist, I still like to live in a clean home. For me, there are basic things that are not negotiable. I cannot live my life happily unless these things are clean:

I must be clean.

My clothes must be clean.

My bed must be fresh and clean.

My dishes and cooking utensils must be clean.

I can't stand smelly toilets and these and my bathroom must be clean.

These days I need help to maintain this list of essentials.  I do not go into a spin if a fly has died on my window ledge or there is some dust on my furniture. I have learned to accept white cat fur as a part of being a mother to a white cat. The floors can be in need of a vacuum, but I now have Roombas to do them.  It has been years since I ironed something that only I will see... and I learned years ago that one can sleep on unironed pillowcases... it can be done!

I find cooking, shopping, menu and social planning, washing and folding of clothes, managing finances and being a loving wife to my sick husband is enough for me to cope with. I know from experience over the years that by not pacing myself, I will crash and burn and my recovery time will need more than an occasional nana nap...

Accepting our limitations is an important part of staying calm in a world that has become anything but. And for most of us Sacrificial Home Keepers, our world is our home. 

One final thought that helped me was remembering what our family doctor once said to me when my children were young: "A home should be clean enough to be healthy, but untidy enough to be happy!"  I am trusting that I have at last put his advice into action.

I have never been so embarrassed!

 

So as you know, my husband Chris has recently been a week in hospital. We saw many different doctors in the lead up to his diagnosis of Cranial Sixth Nerve Palsy caused by a stroke.

As Chris was not aware of all the medicines he was on, he left it up to me to discuss all medical matters and medications.

I was already stressed and feeling the effects of a fibromyalgia flare. Truthfully, I was exhausted and hurt all over. 

It was an effort to stay awake every day as I sat by his bedside but I wanted to know what was ailing him.

Eventually the doctor in charge of his case came in to update us. I had an important question to ask him and I knew I would forget it if I didn't ask him immediately while it was fresh in my mind. Fibromyalgia does that...

So jumping straight into his conversation with Chris, I told him that my fibromyalgia was flaring and that I had to ask him something important before I forgot.... and I apologised for interrupting yada yada...

Then I forgot. Silence. Expectation. Pregnant pause.

I was so busy explaining my fibro fog and flare and apologising, that the reason for the interruption was over. The question hung in swirling mists of fibro brain fog and I sat red faced and embarrassed.

The doctor looked at me and waited, allowing me time to gather my thoughts and when they weren't forthcoming, he resumed his conversation.

I hate fibro. It rules my life and ruins my credibility as an intelligent woman. It pains me and weakens me, enveloping me in a cloak of weariness that no amount of rest can cure. And it embarrasses me.

I have never been so embarrassed! 

So very grateful

So we were watching TV together when I noticed Chris was shutting one eye and then the other. Then he told me he had a really bad headache.

I gave him some paracetamol and he fell asleep on the couch after taking it.

A day or two afterward, he was looking at me and I noticed his left eye was turning in. That's when the double vision came into play...

After putting up with it for a week, Chris decided it wasn't getting better, so we went to the ED.

They noticed his right eye stares straight ahead, making the left eye turn like it should, but causing double vision which made him feel nauseous.

They noticed his blood pressure was quite high and started him on more medication for it. They ordered a Cat Scan on his head and admitted him.

The CT scan showed no abnormalities, so they followed up with a MRI which did. Chris had had a stroke in his cerebellum.

It was not a bleed but rather a blockage, and they believe this caused his double vision known as Cranial sixth nerve palsy. They don't know if it will be permanent or not.

They are treating his blood pressure,  upping his insulin for the diabetes and putting him on aspirin as a blood thinner, as well as giving him statins for his high cholesterol.

He will be treated by patching one eye to avoid double vision and taking the aforementioned medications. This will be punctuated with GP visits, physiotherapy visits for eye exercises, endocrinologist and neurologist.

My fibromyalgia has flared as I am exhausted. I stayed everyday of his week long hospital stay from 10-7pm. The weather was changing all the time as we are in our spring and I have had angina because the stress was mind numbing..

We are so very grateful that the stroke wasn't worse and we are praying believing that the eye nerve damage will sort itself out. Also we are praying that he doesn't have another stroke.

Mostly we thank the LORD for another chance at life together..

 

I think I could sleep on the freeway.

We visited the doctor today.  I have extremely high blood pressure which the doctor feels is due to my fibromyalgia pain.  It has flared since the move and I have gone grey overnight.

He is increasing my antidepressants as I am stressed to the max. He believes they may help in my fibro pain. He has not offered anything for pain as yet. 

I feel totally exhausted and I need to help Dianne for the next month as she can't drive.  My spoons are gone before I surface each day.

My exhaustion is such that my legs feel like they can't hold me up. Yet like helping my daughter and looking after my sick husband, there are things that just have to be done.

My grandson walked to our place from school today and found no clean cups for a drink. I told him he will have to wash one out for himself as I have been so unwell that I haven't been able to stack the dishwasher.  

He selected a picnic cup instead of washing one and then asked to be driven home. I felt guilty that my kitchen is a mess but Chris has fluid build up in his lungs due to living with heart failure and hasn't been able to help.

As a fellow counter of spoons, he has to save them for driving Dianne to doctors' appointments and physio, so I do not ask that he helps with the housework.

My extra antidepressants are kicking in and I am feeling tired as we speak. I must straighten my bed first as it is very uncomfortable as it is. I need a good night's sleep.

It is true that you sleep better in a tidy bed. The way I feel right now, I think I could sleep on the freeway.