Entry from Blogger site, 2013
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
The summer months are beginning with a new sense of "calm" in that I'm not scheduled to teach the college English class next school year. Guess I'd always carried the weight of teaching that class through the summer, since the students themselves had summer work to accomplish--grammar, readings, etc. I'd kept their upcoming class in the back of my mind all summer, and now without that in mind, how freeing it all is!
So how did the first week of vacation begin? With me enjoying actually reading a book (not just listening to it), managing the garden, house, and of course, Pete. We play cribbage once or twice a day and our daily contact during the school year centers around that activity. But I'm trying to establish a happy medium here--one where I don't get too caught up in Pete's caretaking, one where I find time for myself and yet keep a decent relationship with my husband.
The first Monday of vacation we visited a potential new doctor for Pete, since our GP is moving to another clinic. This doctor is one Pete had wanted to have as his practitioner for years, but the guy wasn't receiving new patients. Now that there's so much movement in the clinic, he IS taking on new ones, and Pete was pleased. The visit went well--nothing new, sort of a meet/greet situation. But I appreciated the doctor's obvious respect for Pete's and my situation and how it's been handled.
Then Tuesday was another day of appointments--this time in Rochester. I'd scheduled to view a patio set on Craig's list and was eager to get Pete to Mayo in time for his 11:45 xray, and I'd meet the homeowner at 11:45 as well. BUT things don't always work out and I have so much trouble being patient. We'd decided to leave home at 10:15, but for some reason Pete wasn't ready until 10:30. We still had to stop for gas and an ATM in the case I decided to buy the furniture. Why Pete was 15 min. late getting ready is a mystery, apparently even to himself. I drove like a mad person to the clinic, literally pushed him out the door to get to the patio set, and then sped through the Rochester streets. Once I was in the backyard looking at the set, Pete called to say he'd left his billfold in the car and was waiting still in the lobby because they couldn't figure out "who [he] was", so only viewing this furniture for 3-4 min., I couldn't make a decision quickly, naturally, and fled back to the clinic, parked, and then found Pete in the waiting room. "Oh, I didn't mean for you to rush back here," he said. Not at ALL the message I'd gotten on the phone.
So what's all my griping about? I'm finding Pete needs more help physically and emotionally than previously, that his days are nearly becoming my days--I can't schedule things for myself when there's something scheduled for him. And I can't look too far ahead--afraid I'll cut and run at the prospect of a life filled with his care.
Hope we find a happy medium and that the summer can profit us both.