by Serena St. John

Created on: April 29, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

-From Wife to Caregiver: For Better or Worse

I felt anger rising up in my chest. This was a new sensation, a burning, fierce sensation. I'd liken it to a reaction after eating a too-hot Jalapeno pepper. It wasn't mad anger, and maybe it wasn't even anger at all. Maybe it was more a surge of frustration but honestly, why was it escalating into an explosion? Maybe it was worse than anger, maybe it was rage.

It had been two months short one day since my husband called from work to tell me, "Honey, a plank fell on my neck and I can't move. I'm hurt real bad". What a whirlwind of situations ensued, none of which you have any control. All you have is patience. At first everything was all touch-and-go. I was at the hospital every day but 2, keeping him clean, shaved, and bathed, watching his skin and applying treatments the nursing staff had no time for. As a career nurse, I could draw on my 28 years of experience to oversee his care.

Alot of tasks were unpleasant, but I took them all in stride. I felt good about what I was able to do for him and what I caught that the overworked staff missed. I was proud of what my quick thinking saved him from. And I was determined to hold true to the pledge I made to God when my husband was in a coma, "I'll never ask why if you'll just bring him back to me" I bargained.

There was no anger when the accident happened. There was shock and fear. There was no anger during the first few days post-injury on the hospital trauma unit. There was helplessness, dread, and insomnia. There was no anger during the stay on the hospital rehab floor. There was fatigue, sadness and anxiety. And finally the out-of-state-trip to the spinal cord rehab facility (specializing also in traumatic brain injuries). No anger, but the seeds of 'this is reality-deal with it'. I helped where I could, but always deferred to the nurses if I needed to. To be performing these tasks for my husband seemed the least I could do, and I did it with love. I never passed the buck to someone else if I was there and available to help.

I digress. Back to that day. Something was different, I could feel that an internal wire inside me had just snapped. We were in a different setting. He was "visiting" me in my room, a handicapped-accessible room located in an adjacent building on campus grounds. These apartments were set up specifically for the patients' families, as 90% of the patients were from out-of-state. It was his second visit to my little "home". And it was Super Bowl

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