On Being a House Husband

Colleen is away a lot. Her practicum (sometimes called a placement) takes her away each day to a hospital in Oakville. Oakville is a wealthy community with a population of 200,000. It's about 20 miles west of us. The drive takes about 30-70 minutes depending on traffic. She works there at the "Adult Outpatient Mental Health Clinic." Her day begins at 0800 and goes til 1600. On Wednesdays, however, she works from 0800 to 2000, a 12-hour shift. She does all this without pay. It's a requirement of the university, as part of her Master of Social Work degree. 

She began her placement in September, around the same time that Ivy went off to college. At that time, Colleen's other job - her paying job - required her to work as an addictions councilor at a women's residential treatment centre on Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. These are afternoon shifts - 1600 to 0001. As if that weren't enough, on some Saturdays, she's required to attend a daytime class at the university. But how? How can she do all this? She's been trying to give away some of her shifts, but she's often unable to find anyone to replace her. Of course, she MUST work at her placement as a condition of her MSW degree. She may be forced to resign from her paid position if they cannot make some accommodations. She's exhausted! And yes, we need the money.

So here I am, at home, chief cook and bottle washer. Keeping house is no easy task. There is so much to do! Every chore seems to lead toward two more. Laundry, house cleaning, lawn mowing, and that ever-present pile of dishes in the sink. The dogs need to be fed twice a day. We go walking together 3 or 4 times a day. My days are filled with obligation and commitments. I don't attempt a lot each day, but what little I do seems to sap my strength. When I go off to visit my parents, or to spend a day away with friends, we order the service of a dog-walker. I know. It sounds ridiculous, but there you have it. There are actually people who make a living today by walking other people's dogs. $25 for a 30 minute walk with two dogs. But what choice do we have?



Today, I summoned the strength to vacuum the house, upstairs and down. We live in a two-story house. Daily, I lament the fact that the toilet is upstairs. I realise this will pose a hardship for me as my lungs worsen. Some sad day, we may need to invest in a device to carry me upstairs. But happily, currently, I'm well enough to manage. The trouble began this afternoon when I had finished my cleaning job. I had a bowl of soup for lunch and then carried the HEAVY vacuum to store it upstairs. I pushed the machine into position at the top of the stairs and bent over to manipulate the hose. When I stood up, I suddenly felt exhausted and quite light-headed. I made it to the bed and lay there a while with my heart pounding in my chest. Each time I feel this way, I know it to be a harbinger of harder times, a glimpse into a difficult future.

When she finishes her degree, Colleen will get a job. Perhaps we'll travel a bit first, but eventually, she'll have to get a job. She'll be gone all day and, like now, I'll be home with the dogs. But it will be different, I think, as my disease progresses. I'll be home, but not very productive. If Colleen is too tired to do it, we may need to hire a maid service to clean our home. We'll probably hire the dog-walker to come once a day, at least. Maybe twice. Meanwhile, I will sit and suck at my portable oxygen (I may need it by then) and wait for Colleen to return. I pray she finds a job that pays well.



  

Reepicheep

Although I've read only a couple of his books, I am a fan of C.S. Lewis. I stumbled upon this quote just now from "Voyage of The Dawn Treader," the third installment in the "Narnia" fantasy series for children. Something about it seems to echo deep inside me.

“My own plans are made. While I can, I sail east in the Dawn Treader. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan’s country, or shot over the edge of the world into some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise.”

The words were spoken, apparently, by Sir Reepicheep, the talking High Mouse of Narnia who brandishes a rapier nearly as long as his tail. I think maybe I ought to find a copy of "The Chronicles of Narnia" and read Lewis' famously popular story.

Looking Over My Shoulder

It doesn't happen every morning, but ...

When I returned from walking the dogs this morning, and got them fed, I was knackered.

Not out of breath, just physically exhausted. 

I simply could not go on.

I sat for perhaps ten minutes before I felt strong enough to make myself some breakfast.

This damned disease is edging nearer and nearer.

It's Not Fair! 😭😭😭😭

Our church is offering a course in caring for people going through tough times. A person trained this way would be able to provide support to one person at a time, meeting with that person once a week for about an hour. I wanted to take the training. But the more I thought about it, the more I realised that a support person was someone I would NEED, not someone I should become. As I journey through my illness, I will need someone to go with me. Of course, Colleen will be there to support me. But who will support her? We’ll need someone to join us, and someone with Christian beliefs would obviously be our first choice. We spoke with a lady after church this morning. Her name is Dale. She’s really nice. It’s our hope that she might connect us to someone within the church, someone compassionate, and hopefully, not too "preachy."   

Brigitte is another friend we’ve found at our new church. It turns out that Brigitte is an ICU nurse who works with the transplant programme at Toronto General. What a treasure she is! We told her about the doctor wanting to prescribe oxygen for me. Brigitte says oxygen is a good idea. She said oxygen is critical to all parts of the body, and oxygen deprivation, even a little, stresses vital organs. She spoke about the importance of supplemental oxygen to help preserve my heart and organs thereby making me a better candidate for transplant. When I told her how an oxygen prescription would prohibitively increase the cost of travel insurance and spoil our travel plans, she agreed. 

"Travel is fine," she said, “if that’s what you want to do. But you need to be aware that your choices have consequences. You can refuse the oxygen and see the world, or fill the prescription and stay home. Either way, transplant or not, it’ll be a very rocky road. It’s important you understand that.”

It seems I can live longer, or better. But not both. And so I must choose: Either use oxygen to increase my chance of a transplant, or do without it in order to travel and enjoy Life for as long as I can.

But how can I choose? 

How? 

Why must I have to? 

This is not fair! 

Fuck. 😭😭😭