Exploding tempers

Today's news. They are putting a PICC line into my husband so that he won't have to be stuck everyday with a needle. Only this is a little different. When he was in hospital, he had a direct line in his vein so they could do the infusion. No sticking him every 6 hours. Well, now, this new thing is going to go into his vein and travel up into the vein to the site of the infection (that's how the doctor explained it to Bill). I wasn't there cause as I said before I do errands when he's getting the infusion. He will be having the infusion every 6 hours again, but in the home. No need to go to the hospital every day. Who will have to do this? Me of course. The social worker explained to Bill that someone would come to the house (a visiting nurse) on Friday to teach us what needed to be done. He was excited about not having to go to the hospital every day. Me too; except with a grain of salt.

We get home and he's explaining how this is going to work. Wait, he's yelling because I got 80% hamburger instead of 85%. I'm making him something to eat and must concentrate on him talking, making his dinner and trying not to show him how much pain I was in from having to walk in the grocery store. There were no ride-on carts available. You know what a big grocery store is like. The milk is in the farthest corner of the store, the bakery (individual bulky rolls) in the bakery near the entrance. Hamburg in the meat cases in the back of the store; frozen juice concentrate (use that because jugs are heavy) in the middle of the frozen food aisle. Well, anyway, I'm multi-tasking. made his burger gave it to  him so he could eat while I finished cooking mine and putting the mayo and pickles away. I go to sit & eat my burger and the phone rings. Don't you just hate when that happens.

Bill-o is eating, I haven't started to eat. The social worker is on the phone. She's explaining to me how the nurse won't be able to make it to the house until Monday (which is a holiday). She can't come tomorrow there are other commitments. Yea, I know what they are. Furlough days for state workers because of budget shortfalls. If it were an emergency we'd have to go to the hospital. I'm asking the questions I should from the social worker and the shit hits the fan. Bill is raving because of my side of the conversation. He stomps into the kitchen and slams his plate with the uneaten burger patty onto the counter and goes back to his chair. He's only taken one bite off the burger. He's raving about this conversation and I'm trying to explain what the social worker was saying. His philosophy is that if they tell him something it should be done that way. No leeway for other people's schedules. His way or no way. He's ranting and I'm trying to explain and eat my hamburger; it's cold by now. The arguing has upset my stomach but I hate to waste food we can't afford to throw it away. I tell him if they put PICC in tomorrow at 9:00 AM. he then could go up and get the infusion done and we could go home and not have to go out again. But we'll have to do the hospital thing until the nurse can teach us how to do it ourselves and, oh yea, bring the machine that has to be used.

Of course he's bitching and moaning. Why do I have to listen to this. He's asking questions, I'm trying to eat. It's too much for me. I snap and tell him to stop bitching. The world just doesn't revolve around him. Well, that was smart. He's alway had a bad temper and it's been short. I don't fear that he will be violent toward me but his words are hurtful. I'm only the messanger, but you know what they say, don't kill the messanger. It's abusive, I know it, he knows it. I've given him passes and explained away his rantings. But, it's taking a toll on me.

He's speaking (yelling) and my ears are buzzing. I feel my BP climbing. I'm stressing so I keep my mouth shut for the next little bit and try to close my ears to him.

The food didn't go down too well. It's a lump in my stomach. I'm extremely tired. The construction workers around the complex woke us up at 8:30. They were leveling our back stoop and preparing the area around our door there for the new siding being put on. So they were hammering and using a machinery, generally making lots of noise. Almost as much noise as was inside.

He calms down a bit and is now watching tv. Every once in awhile he says something. I'm trying to read, or look at the computer. I'm not a machine that can have thing thrown at it and be conversant with all the information coming at me. He's yelling again because I didn't hear him the first time. He doesn't repeat himself, says never mind in that tone that tells you he's angry again.

His voice isn't loud, he's got cancer in his larynx. His voice is almost gravely and just above a whisper. But he expects me to have perfect pitch and be able to hear him. He's facing away from me. My computer and desk are behind his chair. The tv is on, the construction noise is loud and I'm supposed to hear what he is saying. Shit I'm superwoman.

I've had enough. I'm going to take a nap. I leave and have peace in the bedroom. Except for the construction noise. I'm trying to fall asleep. Yes, blissfully quiet right then. The workers have moved away. Yes, peace. Oh wait, burning in my stomach, acid reflux is not my friend. I'm coughing from this. Did I mention my walk thru the grocery store?? My hip and leg are hurting. I try to get out of bed and I cramp up. Damn, damn and double damn. Lay back down, start drifting off again. Acid reflux again. Come on, God why? WHY?

STRESS!!!

I must have fallen into a fitful sleep because Bill was now telling me it was almost 7PM. Wow, almost 3 hours of peace? Not hardly.

I get  up and resume my internet perusals. Talk calmly with Bill and then over something, I don't know what, he starts yelling again. I feel my BP rising again; dizziness again too. Well isn't this special. I'm having a heart attack. No it's just STRESS.

Bill's looking kind of scared. He's ready for 911. I tell him I'm okay.  He's sitting and sort of relaxing again. Then he says. "You know, I'm being a total ass today (REALLY?). But, I don't think of you as getting older. I know you are, but your still young to me. " 

How can he say something like that and be such an absolute mean son of a so and so.

That's how my day went. Oh, yea. We argued again. He's telling me that I snap at everything he says. GEEZ. I probably am but he says the stupidest things.

I was looking at a website regarding free eye glasses. He said if I wasn't on the computer everyday or if I didn't read I wouldn't need new eyeglasses. I've had these glasses for over 2 years, I told him. I know that, he says, I had to pay for them. (Crux of the matter, I wasn't working so he had to pay for them.) How about all the years I had to pay for all our medical insurances and the money I spent on his dentures, and the stuff I had to pay for him because he wasn't working. I didn't say this to him. All I said was that I thought we were a family. What's your is mine and what's mine is yours? Who's counting the money. I tried to explain that people's eyes change. I've had my glasses since 2003, he says. And I counter with you probably need new glasses too. Well, he's gone off again and this time I didn't hold back. I told him he was a selfish bastard and that I was tired of him telling me that I was being a bitch if I needed stuff. Hell I haven't bought a piece of clothing for myself in over 3 years.

I got retroactive money from SSA for disability and he promptly went out an bought a big screen tv. Whose money was that? Of course, we both watch the tv and it is nice. I don't begrudge him the tv. The money was ours. 

I didn't talk to him for the next 2 hours and he went to bed. Whoops, I need some medicine. I brought him the meds. He gets up again. He can't sleep. I give him half a sleeping pill. He's off to bed and now it's 2am and I have to go to bed so I can start all over again at 7am.

Wish me luck.