How to be a Good Patient

Sorry, this is not about gardens or gardening. If you can’t walk that thing out there becomes problematic. And for the past ten days or so I have walked only with great difficulty and in pain. Despite endless paracetamol and ibuprofen.

First useful tip: taking painkillers continuously is apparently more effective than random ouch, help, gimme some dosing. So I have been dosing even in the middle of the night.

You may think, like the medic did, that I’m being awkward refusing Co-codamol. But my mother in law got addicted to that stuff and it played hell with her err, functioning. I hate the idea of taking a cure then taking remedies for the effects of the cure. (I know - sometimes unavoidable)

So what’s wrong with you, I hear you cry??!! And the answer is: I don’t know. I’m waiting, my GP is waiting, we’re all waiting, for the results of an x-ray. Meanwhile ChatGPT thinks it’s possibly a lumbar spinal stenosis–type flare. Who knows? What the hell is that!? Meanwhile when I stand or walk I have acute lightning strike type pain in my hip and thigh which then just sort of goes on and on hurting. Boring.

Incapacitating. This is where a good fantastic partner comes in. Charles has proved saintly and our meals have improved no end with him doing all the cooking instead of just over half. And he’s put my socks on, half carried me round small parts of the garden, fed the birds, shopped, sympathised, made fires, brought in wood, fed fires, and done endless fetching and carrying chores. Only (so far) complaining once when I asked for something when he had just sat down.

So - I torment myself - how can I keep him onside and happy when I have become so demanding?? I get terrified if he is a little unwell, in case I end up having to do all the chores and cooking. I have even been known to get bad tempered, which is very horrible of me. And I’ve even been bad tempered with this Thing. And I don’t like Charles being bad tempered.

But mostly I think, as a patient, it behoves me to try to be good. As in:

1. Put my own knickers on. That is a game of considerable skill and patience, but possible.

2. Be appreciative, even when you go without socks all day. Accidentally. He can’t remember everything.

3. Use anything that might help. A Zimmer frame folks. Unbelievably humiliating. One of the worst worst things besides the pain is humiliation!! It is not cool to be old and a Zimmer ages you fifty years just by being in the same house. Use it only when invisible to any judging, ageist eyes. And that means mine, his, and yours.

4. Find it funny. What can I say? That’s a challenge. But when you start by staggering across the bathroom, grabbing a shelf and bringing it and all its contents down on top of you then bursting into tears and yelling - well, you owe him a joke. He had the shelf back up before the end of the day, that man.

5. Try not to fall downstairs. I did fall upstairs. I tried hands and knees. (Remember what I said about humiliation?) My leg gave way and I collapsed.

6. Be bloody determined. I needed to get upstairs, so I revived a bit and had another go. And fell over upstairs in a similar fashion. Note - carry your phone at all times if it may help you summon help.

7. And, maybe, don’t be bloody determined if what you’re doing is reckless.

8. Wash yourself if humanly possible.

9. Gird up your loins and other bits, ill as you may feel, and do those good things you still can do. Do the menus for the week, order the groceries, find good telly. Order your own Zimmer frame. Remember what I was taught as a kid in Yorkshire: there’s always someone worse off than yourself.

10. Get yourself a fabulous partner. Remember my rules of a happy marriage: get a kind, caring partner. Then do your best to be one.

    Any other suggestions welcome - have you got good tips about how to do incapacitated well? Please don’t shame me by telling me how you did it/do it all alone. How are such things even possible????????

I think this is very brave of you to write this. I kinda wish that I’d taken a pic of you with the Zimmer frame for this; it was quite shocking. I hope that sometime soon you’ll be able to put it away. My additional chores have not felt onerous, though I have experienced a mild panic about the garden, prompting me to book Angus weekly in April just as a reassurance that I wont be alone. It is a scary time though and I hope that whatever it is does get sorted or we are fucked.