Thursday, August 30, 2012


For many years prior to her passing, my father was a caretaker for my mother. He helped her with everything, and stood by her for years. I've also seen some very good friends do the same with their significant others or a parent. It's a hard place to be.

In my former job, I took care of many clients with many different needs. We had to know how to do just about everything and I was able to teach them a lot, and learned a great deal myself in the process. It always seemed like I worked constantly - crisis after crisis, continuous phone calls...usually at the detriment of taking care of myself. When that finally ended a few months ago, and all the dust was settled, there was admittedly a sigh of relief.

And then I became a caretaker myself. And this one was 24/7. 

Often times we can't see why things happen the way they do. But, in my case, I never would have been available to help my fiance go through a horrible nine hour back surgery, overwhelming pain, a week in the hospital, and the work once he got home - for both of us. Now almost eight weeks post-op, his recovery has come a long way. He still needs help, but not the constant assistance he needed before. He is still unable to bend, lift, or twist for another four weeks or more, and continues to wear the back brace.

Frankly, I think he's brave, and strong, and determined. I am so glad to see him grow healthier and stronger every single day.

And the coolest thing is that after months of walking more and more bent over, he is once again looking me straight in the eye - and walking tall and proud. 

Was I overwhelmed at times? Yes. Am I still overtired? Yes. Would I change the fact that I have been able to care for him, help him get better, and be the one he relies on? Not for a minute.

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