On the following Tuesday, we arrived at the VA Clinic for our first appointment of the day. Hubby was taken to a small room with a clear plastic phone booth type of apparatus where they put him through a series of breathing tests. The results would give the doctor a baseline to measure his health progress. The testing took about a half-hour. When we finished there, we headed to our next appointment…with the urologist.
However, we never spoke with a doctor, but instead were taken into a room where a tech talked to us about what had been going on since they put him on a medication called FloMax. After a brief discussion, the tech removed the catheter and bag. He told us to go home and come back in three hours. The hope was that hubby would be able to urinate with no problems. We left, hubby confident that all would be well. He drank a LOT of water…but his bladder only grew painful and he could not relieve himself. So, we headed back to VA, discouraged and worried. The tech put in a new catheter and sent us home to wait for another call to see the specialist.
We were back to waiting. Finally we were scheduled to come back to VA Clinic on March 4 to have a scope procedure to determine the problem. The days passed slowly and hubby had issues with the catheter. After having worn one for nearly three months, he’d become sensitive. There were times when the pressure would surge so strongly that the urine would leak around the insertion point. Finally, we resorted to buying overnight adult protective underwear. Poor hubby was so miserable.
His depression grew worse. He was never one to have hobbies except for building things…big things! The previous fall before he grew sick he made a wishing well for the Prayer Garden at our church in memory of a friend who had passed away unexpectedly.
He built a swing arbor in our back yard, an arbor over our front walk, the shed in our back yard…and even hobby horses and toy boxes for our grandkids. Now, he had no strength or endurance to work on something of this scope. I tried to get him interested in word search puzzles or reading, but nothing interested him. He’d watch television most of the day between taking naps in the chair.
After retirement I had planned to devote time to writing again…to getting a new book published. My plans were pushed aside because I was just too worried about hubby. I spent a lot of hours sitting on the sofa keeping him company and my hands busy crocheting prayer shawls. February, the shortest month of the year, was a very long one…
“I didn’t plan to be a caregiver, but God had a different plan for me. I accept it with a happy heart, thankful that my love and I are still together.”