These bad days of his show up more often and last longer than they used to. It kills me to see him helpless and in bed. He doesn’t deserve this. No one does.

He had a horrible day today.

I can’t lift him from floor if he goes down. I can’t lift him into his bed.

My body has its own problems, some connected with being his caregiver. Some connected to the years I broke horses and rode trails. If my father had known how often I got thrown, I wouldn’t have had my horse for long. Although she wasn’t who I got thrown from. It was the horses the stable owner let me break and train that almost killed me a few times. At that age I was fearless and resilient.

I didn’t care that I’d pay for it later.

Time to dig out the tens machine again, being a caregiver today took its toll on my back.

Today’s Tee shirt

It takes me over an hour to set up The Curmudgeon’s pills for the month. I’m not counting how long I stand in line to get all his medications.

Did two days early on and did all of the rest last night.

I was waiting for a prescription to get filled. Had to pick it up yesterday. I do believe I spend half of my time at our local CVS.

Seriously folks, if you take a lot of medications in a day go get this at Amazon.com. It makes things so much easier.

It’s difficult to watch this man fall apart more each day.

We’ve been married for 43 years and together for two years before that.

We had our ups and downs but this has been a very long down since his diagnosis in 1989. It’s difficult when you no longer have any ups.

The fall down this rabbit hole is far from pleasant and when you hit the bottom, you realize that yes, things can get worse.

There is no bouncing back. This is not relapsing remitting MS. This is that long, slow fall down the rabbit hole into a Wonderland that has gone bad.

The Curmudgeon had such a bad day that I almost canceled my hair appointment but he bade me go ahead.

He put in a call to his neurologist about his Ampyra. He could barely walk and that frightens him. He’d rather have poorly functioning kidneys than not be able to walk.

They called back early in the evening and told him he could go back on Ampyra.

One dose into his system and he’s feeling better.

So now his kidneys aren’t functioning right.

They had him stop taking his Ampyra which is the pill that makes it so he can walk. They also had him stop taking his Celebrex that stops the severe pain in his back from arthritis in there.

Until the Nephrologist sees him IN JANUARY.

Imagine his hell–all that pain and not being able to walk again. For at least 2 1/2 months! Maybe longer if they take him off the medications permanently.

And then there’s my hell…I don’t have any help so when he can’t walk, I have to move him and I am not a young person without health problems.

When he’s moaning and groaning in pain, I can’t help him.

I can’t leave him alone and yet I still have grocery shopping to do and all the rest of the upkeep of the house. Can you say beyond overwhelmed?

It’s no wonder to me why there is such a high divorce rate in patients with MS.

Seems MS rears its ugly head at the worst times for any reason under the sun.

This time as a bad reaction to The Curmudgeon’s pneumonia shot.

One shot resulted in two days of not being able to get out of his bed and four days of profound weakness.

This insidious disease takes more of him as each day passes.

The Curmudgeon’s Tee shirt today

Not looking forward to the visiting nurse from the MS society. She’s coming today.

Last time this nit-wit visited I was ready to take a two by four to her head. She is a complete idiot. I think she’s like 12 years old and has an opinion on everything. Most of which is wrong and out of line.

Actually I have little use for most nurses. My older sister, the idiot, is one and she has absolutely no common sense. I find this all too often in that profession. (My apologies to the few good nurses I know.)

I hope someone will post bail….

It was hard to watch how much The Curmudgeon struggled to stay upright.

I cry every night after he goes up to bed.

I find myself pushing him away, distancing myself and I get so angry all the time.

I’m not a nice person.

I used to be a nice person.

The Curmudgeon’s lounge chair is very important to him, it’s where he spends most of his time.

Therefore, we paid for a platinum guarantee on it when we bought it. So glad we did. So far they have replaced the chair twice and repaired it three times.

They are replacing it again. This time the foot rest mechanism broke.

Lazy Boy, they stand behind their products.

Gee, I wonder if they’ll pay me for this?

So The Curmudgeon gets this MS society magazine every month. He didn’t subscribe to it, they just send it.

He never reads it, but once in a while I’ll skim through it.

Most of the articles are laughable in their ‘you can do it’ approach to life with MS.

When you are secondary progressive MS and have had MS as long as he has had it, there comes a time when no matter how much you want to, you can’t do it.

Then there are the ridiculous caregiver articles.

“Take care of yourself” Yeah, if I can find the time and energy. I do this all by myself. They don’t volunteer to come and clean my house, clear out the mess the roofer made of my attic, clear out my basement, change the wheels on his mobility cart, or clean up my yard.

I take care of him and two dogs. I have to sneak in my showers and going for groceries is a major production that I try to make it my day out with G.

That way I can hit the ground running and go until I drop.

I can’t even take care of the house. It continues to get dirtier by the day. I look at it and feel so overwhelmed all I want to do is curl up in a corner and cry.

But I can’t do that because I have to cook his dinner, feed the dogs, take them out, do the dishes…

Today’s Tee shirt

So, Lucy and I were cuddling on the couch (read that as ‘we were dozing’) when a sudden *CRASH* from upstairs rattled the house.

With heart racing I dashed up the steps hollering, “are you okay? WTF happened?”

Found The Curmudgeon down, wedged between his bed and his walker.

Then I saw the blood.

You know how facial and scalp cuts bleed like crazy?

Yep.

I ran for paper towels slapped them on the side of his face told him, “you know what to do…put pressure on it. You’re going to need stitches.” and ran to call our doctor’s ER to see how late they were open.

Then I got G over to help me get him into the car and to go along with us.

I was right.

Three stitches.