Part Eleven (and the last): The Reluctant Caregiver's Guide to Broken Hip Recovery

Progress

Rather than inch by inch, progress seems to be moving millimeter by millimeter. So he’s standing a little faster than yesterday, or able to reach a little higher with his exercises. It hardly seems like a celebration, but do make note of it. Recovery is happening!

People ask how things are going, and you try not to bark back at them: Not fast enough! I’m tired, he’s not able to do much, and I want our life back! But you attempt a smile and say, “We’re making a little progress. Still have a ways to go.”

They say you look tired. Well, you are. Fair enough. And not likely to change in the near future.

And should you push him a little or let him go at his own pace? Beware: This is the stuff of nasty snits and fights.

Your husband may be the perfect person who good-naturedly tries hard and is never in a bad mood. If so, we all hate you.

For the rest of us, tread lightly. Let the therapist push and you just reinforce and cheer on. You do want a continuing relationship, right?

Right? Come on, now--

Then, on a day when you’re bleary-eyed and trying to make nice with the therapist, your husband performs his exercises with a grace and vigor you haven’t seen. You’re amazed and the therapist smiles and nods. Yes, it’s working. He’s finally getting better.

Normal returns, finally

It seems to take forever, but suddenly something happens that feels—normal! Like going to the grocery store by yourself and not worrying about him getting along while you’re there. Or going out to dinner, even though he’s still using the wheelchair. You enjoy your dinner and conversation and it feels—normal. How wonderful!

He learns how to get in and out of a car, is walking more smoothly, and seems more like his old self. He starts getting more interested in his usual activities and invites friends over. You’re actually making plans for fun things. You have time for long showers, to enjoy a TV movie, to cook a nice meal. Normal kind of creeps in slowly, but when it does, it’s so surprising and welcome.

Normal may be somewhat different than it was before the injury, but it seems so much better than what you’ve been living through. You can make appointments, meet your friends, and start to return to your life as well. Normal feels like a refreshing whiff of cool air. And best of all, It brings a sense of peace with it.

So go celebrate in whatever way that seems appropriate. Retire the wheelchair—recovery has happened! Take pride in the fact that you survived—and so did he!

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I hope you found these entries helpful! Feel free to email me on the contact page and let me know. An e-version of the eleven blogs will be available on Amazon later this month (August 2020), and a paper booklet some time after that.

Part 10: The Reluctant Caretaker's Guide to Broken Hip Recovery

Slow it down

Let’s say he’s in the living room on the recliner and nature calls. So you put on a gait belt, help him stand with the walker, transfer to the wheelchair, put up the footrests, wheel him to the bathroom or where the commode chair is, lock the wheelchair, take down the footrests, transfer to the toilet--

You get the idea. Fast just doesn’t happen. He may want things to happen quickly—be it being transferred somewhere, getting lunch or something fetched from across the room—but the word fast is now out of your vocabulary. Hey, they didn’t respond quickly in the hospital and rehab. In general, you don’t need to either.

You might be cooking or cleaning or simply putting your aching feet up. Some things can wait a few minutes. And even when there are more urgent needs, safety protocols are more important. Don’t skip moving him safely for anything! He’s anxious; you don’t need to be.

Time for you

Well-meaning friends will say, “Be sure to take time for yourself.”

Excuse me a moment —chortle, snort, ha ha, maniacal laughter—

Yeah, not happening. At least, not at first. Time for myself consisted of a quick shower, or working a crossword puzzle in the paper. Or maybe sleeping.

You’re on call 24/7, and initially that’s all you can do. Be kind to yourself. You don’t have to do more than you’re doing. It won’t be perfect, so don’t worry about that. You’ll run over his toes with the wheelchair or walker and you’ll manage to bump whatever hurt parts he has. It happens. Forgive yourself in advance. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s more than enough.

Most of your “me” time is spent in trying to coordinate equipment, doctor visits, bills, and groceries—and whatever else you have to do. Don’t try to be a super-caretaker and do it all. Just the basics, no more.

You’re wrong

Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ve rammed the wheelchair into the woodwork. You burned dinner when the doctor’s office called. You put carrots in the stew again. And you’re not cheery enough.

You’re doing it all wrong. Except you aren’t. You’re just being told it’s all wrong. You’re actually doing what’s right, and being safe about it. You’re protecting yourself so he has a caretaker, for gosh sakes. But there are days---believe me, your patience will be tried! But do your best to ignore the complaints. He’s obviously not at his best, and probably trying to do the best he can, too. Don’t take on his moods. Go be unavailable for a spell. It will do you wonders.

Here’s another place a friend can help by lending a sympathetic ear. That can do wonders, too.

Part Nine: The Reluctant Caregiver's Guide to Broken Hip Recovery

Routine

After rehab, we were assigned several in-home therapists who came multiple times a week. It felt like I needed to exchange my front door for a revolving one—so many people were in and out of the house, and all had to be let in by me! But eventually, we fell into a routine for that and the smaller stuff. What seemed cumbersome before—all that locking and unlocking of the wheelchair, the transfers, the bedtime tasks—became almost habit. That’s when I could see small improvements my husband was making, and I made sure to let him know. When it’s a long healing process, even tiny advancements can feel like milestones. Ask the therapists to confirm your observations—after all, you’re a significant other and supposed to be supportive; but an outside opinion can be gold.

Try to establish a routine time for bathing, medicine, meals, sleep—these are things you can control. It will make the day go smoother and help over rough patches.  It’s a common pattern to have both good days and bad days, seeming to alternate at first, with more good days later. So don’t worry if you and your spouse are experiencing a bad day. Call your health professional if needed, or just chalk it up to being less than you want. Remember, good days await.

Communication

Yeah, this can be tricky. Grumpiness is a sign that they’re getting better, but it’s a pain for the caregiver. Heck, you may feel grumpy as well, with the extra workload and lack of sleep. We know you’re normally sweet-tempered and kind, as evidenced by your crown. Go stand by the mirror and remind yourself how nice you are.

It is important, however, that your injured one can get hold of you when there’s an urgent need. Cell phones, cheap baby monitors—these work well. My husband has an antique “sick bell” he’d gotten from his cousin, something his great-grandfather used when he was ill and needed to summon help. It has a distinctive ring that can be heard, unfortunately, all over the house. I think, when this recovery stuff is all over and done, that bell may get lost or its clapper may become mysteriously dislodged. Yeah, that’s it—missing clapper—

Actually, you, as caregiver, need to set boundaries. Can you be awakened to pillow-fluff in the middle of the night, or just for pee-emergencies? And if you’re in the midst of something, can he interrupt at will? Let him know what’s acceptable and what isn’t. Do keep in mind that bed-bound people can’t do much for themselves, but push him to do what he can. He’s still in shock from everything and maybe not thinking straight. But the more he can do, the less helpless he’ll feel. And the more free you’ll be to do normal things.