Saturday, June 25, 2011

More on what the hell am I doing . . .

Hubby had an appointment with his psychiatrist a couple nights ago.  He has been scheduling them in the evening so that I can go.  I came home from work, got dinner ready, and all was well until he plopped his plate down on the floor for the dog to lick off.  (Yuck, I do NOT like him doing this, but after more than one heated discussion about it, I gave up, and just scour all dishes really well). 

All I did was ask him to wait until the dog got done (probably less than 20 seconds; she's a big dog), and then pick it up and put it in the sink.  His usual thing is to plop it in the entry way, walk away, and leave it until I either trip over it on my way out the door, or see it and pick it up.  Once again, it was like I had lit a match to gasoline.  He got all pissed off because he had to stand there and wait, and started yelling at me with liberal use of the "F" word.  He also said it was ME who always leaves the plates there.  Not true.  He then came back into the living room, saying he didn't know why I had to always get him all upset before these appointments, and stomped off to his computer.  My response: "You're kidding, right?"  No, he wasn't, and he started yelling and swearing all over again. 

By this time, my heart was pounding, and I'm thinking: what is his crazy behavior doing to me physically?  I already know it is trashing me emotionally.  He could not stop being nasty, so I told him to go to the appointment by himself, which is about 30 minutes away.  I did NOT want to be in the same vehicle with him that long.  He would not take no for an answer.  When I once again told him I was not going, he still insisted I go, but then said he wanted to drive.  I told him there was no way.  After much "crap" from him about this, he said I could drive if I would go.  At this point, it was obvious he was not going without me, and my thought was: his psychiatrist really needs to see this off the wall behavior.  So I took him there.  He did actually check his blood sugar before we left without me asking, and it was at 151.  NOT high enough to account for the way he was acting. 

He said he would not talk to me on the trip there (which was just fine with me!), but of course he did.  I lightly braked for an animal in the road; he screamed at me for not giving him warning.  I adjusted the temperature control; he screamed at me because I didn't do it right.  I also was not driving "his" vehicle the right way.  Wonderful, wonderful 30 minutes. 

When we got to the psychiatrist's, I let her know what had gone on before we got there.  He then started yelling at both of us, and blaming his behavior on me, on the fact he had had to get up early (instead of his usual 2 or 3 in the afternoon) to do blood work that morning, and also that because he had to do bloodwork he was not "on schedule" with his medication.  None of it really made any sense, and so much of what he was saying just made it very obvious that there was a lot of disordered thinking going on.  He also went off on a tangent that it was my fault that he never takes his medication when he should, because I have told him it is "his responsibility" to get up in the morning, and he "can't" get up on his own.  This also made no sense, as I had been at work all day, and he had actually taken his meds earlier than usual.  He also manages to get up in the morning when he has to for appointments and other things. 

The psychiatrist tried to explain to him that he needed to space his 3 doses of anti-anxiety meds out over a 24 hour period to get the full effect, and he was having none of that.  He argued (still yelling) with her, saying that he takes them at 3 hour intervals starting at 3:00 in the afternoon, which is about the time he gets up most days.  About half way through the session, I said, "I'm going to wait outside," as I couldn't take it or listen to it anymore, and he was still blaming me for everything. 

When all was said and done, the psychiatrist came out to the waiting room to talk to me.  They got through the session, she said he really was "sorry," (Really?  Was he?), and that she had suggested he take me out for a cup of coffee.  Yeah, right.  The only place I wanted to go after all this was straight home.  She also said she had scheduled him to see the psychotherapist, and she wanted me to contact this person and stress that he needs to be coming every week.  Okay, at least she finally got that, but I'll be honest:  I am very doubtful that it will help, as hubby is very determined that he is always right.

When hubby came to "collect" me to go home, he asked, "Do you want to go anywhere?"  I told him I wanted to go home, and he countered with: "I knew you wouldn't want to go anywhere."  So somehow, even that ended up being my fault in his eyes.  I didn't speak to him at all on the return trip, even though he tried to make small talk as if nothing had happened.  He is SO the master of living in denial.

So right now, I am trying to figure out what to do in the next couple of months.  Do I want to:

- Follow this thing through with the psychotherapist to the bitter end, although I'm sure it will leave me wide open to more verbal abuse?  He often blames me for the fact that he even needs to go to these appointments.

- Move in with another family member, who I spoke to last night, and has said I can?  Yes, the option is there, but there is not a plentiful, reliable water supply.  So if I move in there permanently, some changes would need to be made about the water situation.  Also other repairs as well.  Not sure I want to permanently leave my house where everything actually works.

- Treat the family member's house as a place to go to as I need to?  This might be a great way to deal with his bullshit rages, with the opportunity to come back if I choose . . . do I want the option to come back?  Some days, I'm really not sure.

- Just leave and get my own apartment?  Not sure I can afford it.  Also don't know if I can truly just walk out and not come back.  I actually would worry about him.

- We also have a motor home.  Don't know what his reaction would be if I just drove off in that, as we are still paying on it.  And water would still be an issue, as the tanks only hold so much.

- Continue exactly as I have been?  I don't think this is an option any longer.  I have really had it.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

What the hell am I doing?

This is one of those evenings when I wonder why I am still married to this man.  Too disheartened to write about it all right now.  I'm just so tired of the insanity.  More later . . .

Friday, June 17, 2011

Really missing you!

Dear newtothis:
Hope all is all right with you.  I miss your blog, your insight, and your sense of humor.  Take care, and know you are in my prayers.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Ongoing coffee saga

Had to laugh this afternoon.  A friend stopped by, and my husband made a big production about getting his coffee while she was here, saying he "needed" his caffeine.  I almost cracked up right there, as he has had nothing but decaf at home for at least a week now, and doesn't have any idea.  He hasn't seemed as jittery when I get home from work, which has been a very welcome change.  I think he may be going to bed a little earlier, too (for him, this means 2:00 instead of 4:00 in the morning!).

However, another issue with the coffee keeps making me feel like I'm married to an old man.  He is constantly spilling it on the counter and all over the floor, and never cleans it up.  He doesn't seem to be aware of it, and does usually apologize when I say something.  I honestly don't know if he sees it, between his retinopathy and (thankfully, still not greatly advanced) cataracts.  I think not.  Kind of scary.  Tonight, I walked down the hall and got my feet wet on our very new carpet.  On closer inspection, I found drips leading all the way from the coffee pot to his computer room.  I did say something to him, and he seemed upset with himself, as he didn't know he had done it.  Wonder if I could get him to use a covered car mug?  That would at least maybe solve the problem with the carpet.  In the meantime . . . I'm really glad we got a coffee-colored carpet! :-D

Monday, June 13, 2011

Low blood glucose strikes again

I woke at quarter to 4 this morning when I heard a loud "thud" coming from my husband's bathroom.  I knew it didn't sound good, as there was no calling out, etc. afterwards.

Got up to go investigate, and hubby was lying on the floor in the fetal position, between the toilet and the tub.  He was also totally bathed in sweat from head to toe, and semi-conscious.  I ran to get his glucose pills, as I couldn't immediately locate the ginger ale.  Miraculously, he was still able to chew and swallow, and he took 2 glucose tablets without the usual argument he gives me over taking them.  Finally found the ginger ale (in plain sight: my brain wasn't awake yet), and got a small glass of that into him.  I then tested his blood glucose level, as he requested the testing equipment, but was in no shape to do it himself.  At this point, his sugar had gone "up" to a whopping 50.  No idea what it was when he keeled over.  By this time, he was able to talk, and was asking for cookies.  I brought more ginger ale first, as I didn't want the fat in the cookies to slow down the glucose absorption.  At some point after the cookies, he was able to get himself to a crawling position with a little help from me, and was finally able to get up and walk himself back to bed.  At that point, his glucose was at 85.

He did thank me several times for helping him, and said he had known he was light-headed, but decided to go to the bathroom first before checking.  Wrong move, but as most of us know, low blood glucose makes you "stupid."  (His words, not mine, but very true.)  When I checked the clock after he went back to bed, I realized all this had happened in less than 20 minutes.  By this time, I was wide awake.  What a "great" way (for both of us) to start the day.  :-(  The one good thing: there was no screaming or raging about anything.  I think some part of him was at least getting that I was trying to help.  Or maybe he was just too out of it to protest?

While getting ready for work, I checked on him a time or two, but he was resting comfortably and breathing normally.  Also, no more cold sweat!  I am still a little concerned, as I'm pretty sure he hit his head on either the bathtub or the floor on his way down.  He is still complaining of a headache, and his hip is paining him.

I know it could have been worse, but things like this scare the crap out of me.  What would have happened had I not checked on him?  Maybe what his endocrinologist calls a rebound blood sugar, where the body compensates after a low and goes sky high?  Or would he ever have woken up?  Sometimes, I think not knowing is the hardest of all.  As spouses, we are always second-guessing ourselves . . . or at least I am.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Camping trip

Went on a long-planned camping trip this past weekend.  Our camper allows hubby to do this, as there is a bathroom, etc. in it.  We left Friday night.  Remembering our last camping trip last fall, I told him that I wanted all of his things either packed in the camper or by the door so that I could walk them out to the camper by Thursday night before I went to bed. 

Why would I ask him to do this?  Last fall's camping trip started out like this:  I got home from work expecting to leave, as I had packed everything else the night before.  He had all day to get his stuff into the camper, so I figured no problem.  Silly me.  When I got home, it soon became obvious he had packed nothing.  When I asked what the hell he had been doing all day, he went ballistic.  Some time later, his things were all packed (amidst screaming, swearing and yelling . . . he would NOT check his sugar), and we were on our way.  But the out of control screaming got worse, especially after I insisted he check his sugar on route.  This is all while I am trying to drive a 30 foot motor home (which I never wanted, by the way.)  When he finally checked it, he claimed it was 130.  This should not have accounted for his off-the-wall behavior, so still don't know if he was being honest, or was having an anxiety attack (over what exactly?)  I actually tried to turn around and go back home twice, and he would have none of that.  Anyway, to make a long story short, we did get there, but I had to drive in the dark, missing all the fall foliage I had so looked forward to seeing.  I was so angry at him, I didn't enjoy the trip at all . . .

So anyway, back to the present.  By Thursday night, you guessed it, none of his stuff was packed again.  After several off the wall, totally senseless comments, I got him to check his sugar, which he insisted was fine.  It was 47.  Wonderful.  I went to bed, not willing to pack his clothing and meds after I had once again packed everything else.  At least this time did go better, as most of his things were in the camper when I got home Friday.   Maybe because I informed him if it was not, I would not be going this time!

We had an uneventful drive to the campground and got there when some of our friends also arrived.  First time we've been on time, ever.  Felt great.  Then we discovered the robin's nest inside the rear bumper of our camper.  4 little robins, and they had ridden the whole way there.  I felt horrible, and fed them raw turkey burger and blueberries all weekend.  Despite my best efforts, 3 died before we left, and we actually got one home alive.  He or she died sometime today, even though Mama Robin did come back to take care of him/her.  So we will never take the camper anywhere again without checking for nests!  I am feeling really bad that all the babies died, as I really did try to save them.

As for hubby, he ate everything in sight our first night out, and of course got sick.  By the time he actually got up the next day (around noon), the meter only read HIGH, which means he was over 600.  Again, wonderful.  He does this EVERY TIME we go camping with our friends, as everyone brings something special (and usually very sweet) to eat, and he has to eat seconds and thirds of all of it.  You would think he would learn!  Oh, and it also rained.  I'm thinking our next camping trip HAS to be better!  I can only hope.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Please see comments for the last 2 posts

Thank you everyone, for the comments from my last 2 posts.  I probably should have brought them forward into a new post, but please check the comments on the posts themselves, as I have responded to them there.  I feel so fortunate to have readers/followers who are supportive.  We are just ending a rather "interesting" camping trip . . . more on my next post when I have more time to write!
Thanks again,