I’m sorry to say it’s true. He is totally, 100% screwed. I’m useless to him. I told him he should have married someone who will be able to care for him as we age.
As most of you know, Stan had back surgery two and a half weeks ago. He ruptured a disk and the ortho doc had to go in to repair it. A fairly routine surgery, or so I’m told. He came out of it with flying colors. As soon as the surgery was over, his pain was gone. I was more than relieved to know he was out of pain.
My relief was short lived.
The discharge nurse began to discuss wound care and how to change the dressing. My mind shut down and my stomach started to churn at the thought of the wound under bandage on his back. I don’t do injuries. At all. I told the nurse that. She gave me a glance that let me know she thought I was being overly dramatic, but I’m not. My stomach heaved and a queasy sensation spread through my body as they talked about changing the dressing on Stan’s back.
His dressing needed to be changed in two days. Stan thought I might be able to work through the queasies before the end of two days. It didn’t happen.
I had to call in the big dog to change the initial dressing. My neighbor is a nurse and I needed her as my go-to girl. She had to change Stan’s dressing. And then Stan had to rotate through all of the kids when his bandage needed to be changed. I couldn’t do it. My stomach heaved again and some strange feeling in my chest overcame me every time I thought about having to change his bandage.
Stan didn’t understand how it could be that bad. I finally had to fight through my feelings and change the damn dressing. I did it but my stomach quivered the entire time. I had to turn the chore back over to the kids.
Stan told Claire last night that she better be ready when she grows up. She’s going to be the one who has to take care of her daddy, because if it were left up to me, Stan really would be screwed. He thinks I might be able to change his Depends, if that time ever comes. But he knows if he has a debilitating anything that has to do with blood I’m O-U-T. I can’t do it. It’s going to be up to his kids to help him out and he knows it.
He told me today the rest of the dermabond fell of his incision sight. I felt the blood drain from my face and my cheeks grew hot. UGH. Poor Stan. I hope the kids know what they’re gonna need to do in the future and I really hope they live near us or Stan really is totally screwed. I like to joke about it but the kids know it’s the truth. So I hope they’re ready.
Oh, for the love of my children…