My husband Alex had back surgery on August 9th.  As I write this post, we are waiting for a call from the doctor’s office hoping for an explanation for the excruciating leg pain that has come on unexpectedly in the last 24 hours.  I didn’t sleep much last night – he didn’t sleep at all.  The pain kept him up all night.  This morning we returned to the hospital for blood tests and an x-ray.  We’re hoping it is just an inflamed nerve that can be cleared up with steroids.

Alex has been dealing with a significant amount of back pain for a long time.  He has managed it the last few years through steroid shots and radio frequency oblation.  But a few months ago it became apparent that the management route had run its course. The pain was no longer manageable.

His initial recovery from the surgery went well, so this setback at day ten is upsetting – to say the least. I had not intended to write about my own experience as a caregiver, as I felt it was insignificant in comparison to what other people experience as they care for loved ones with a long-term degenerative disease.

But there were a few things that surprised me, and I decided to share them.  I didn’t expect that I would feel so physically and emotionally exhausted. Every night when I came home from the hospital, I collapsed.  Alex was not suffering with a life-threatening disease, and his medical needs were being met by a very competent staff.  Even so, being in the hospital from morning to night and being witness to his pain proved to be very draining.

I was surprised at how quickly we bonded with the nursing staff.  There were two nurses in particular, Lydia and Wally, who took such good care of Alex.  By the end of two twelve-hour shifts, I wanted to adopt both of them.  Thank goodness there are people who have the brains and the heart to care for those who are ill or injured!

I was surprised at how completely Alex’s situation completely took over our lives.  Suddenly nothing else seemed important. It was okay for the mail and laundry to stack up. I didn’t bother to watch the news.  I tried to send emails and call kids and close friends to keep them informed, but there were times I just didn’t have the energy to do so.

When the person you love is suffering, you suffer along with them. Alex is not bedridden, and he’s not helpless.  Even with all of these things going for us, it’s hard.

I heard  Dr. Virginia Tyler, a grief counselor at Evergreen Hospice in Albany, Oregon speak at an Alzheimer’s Conference a few years ago.  Someone asked, “What hurts more – losing a child or losing a lifelong partner?”  She said, “There is no Richter Scale for grief.  When you are grieving someone, you hurt as much as you can possibly hurt.”

I think she’s right.  I went into this thinking it wasn’t going to be a big deal.  After all, it is a temporary condition from which we expect full recovery.  What I’ve discovered is that caregiving – even on a short term basis, takes over a person’s life.  And as we wait for the phone call from the doctor, I am feeling very emotional.  Although I know that he is in good hands, I still feel a certain amount fear.  I’m just hoping for a magic pill that will make it all better.