denial

Stages of Grief: Anger

Social Security provides income to qualified workers over the age of 65 and Medicare provides insurance to eligible elderly and disabled.

When you first suspect your loved one has MS, you tend to find ways to deny it. Lynn kept saying his doctor had ruled it out. I kept saying, “Are you sure you’re telling him everything?” When he said, “Yes,” I would accept that as true because I wanted it to be true…denial.

Then, the day came when all the tests were back, and there was no denying the fact he had MS. By that point, he had significant symptoms he had denied, which I no longer could. By late into the evening hours, he was doubled over, unable to stand upright. He would fall easily; drop things. He was too exhausted to eat, and he loved to cook and eat. We would go to the beach for him to fish and he would find reasons not to go out but to stay in and rest. So, I knew well before the telephone call what the diagnosis would be.

I quickly moved from denial to anger at that point. I would not play his game anymore of pretending the elephant in the room wasn’t there. I was furious with his primary care doctor. Why hadn’t he been able to see what was going on before Lynn got so bad? He had a family history of MS for heaven’s sake. Was he a quack? I was ready to report him to the Board of Medicine for being incompetent. Then, I realized that the problem might not entirely be the doctor’s fault; it might be Lynn’s. Lynn was so sure he could NOT have MS or rather, he would refuse to consider the possibility, that I suspect he hid his symptoms. He has even acknowledged as much to me since. When I realized Lynn’s own refusal to face the possibility, I was angry at him. Being mad at Lynn brought about all sorts of conflicting emotions.

(1) I was supposed to be his support system while he adjusted to the news he had MS, BUT inside I was saying, “See. I told you so. You didn’t have to have gotten this bad but would you listen? No! Now, look at you.” Of course, I could not say that, but it’s what I was thinking.

(2) Its politically incorrect (not to mention futile) to be angry at someone for being sick. We, as a society, look in horror at someone mad at someone for being sick. How can they be so heartless? So, we don’t show the anger externally…but it’s there. This “disease” has now put the one who has it in a place of more considerable significance. No longer is the playing field even, but now all decisions will be made based on the impact of the disease. Being selfish by nature, that doesn’t always sit well with me. I resent when I can’t do what I want to do because of the “disease.” I’m not the one who is sick, but I’m the one who has to fix everything so that he can be as comfortable and as well as possible, even when my health might suffer.

(3) I became angry because I didn’t want my life to change. I liked being able to go into work, go out, sit and read, go to bed when I wanted, eat out, lots of things that were going to change. This emotion I struggle with a lot now. I have no “me” life, or at least it’s minimal. I go into work away from my caregiver responsibilities once a week. That’s my only time away from him other than a quick trip to the grocery store, pharmacy, or library. Nowhere else do I go…and I get tired of that. I see a movie advertisement, and I want to see it, but I can’t. I know that I have to wait till it comes out on DVD and then I’ll only see it if it’s something Lynn would also like to watch, and if we watch it, we do so as I feed him. Very rarely do I have time to sit and watch a movie (or anything for that matter) on TV. I used to LOVE to read. Now I feel guilty if I skim an article on the internet because I know that will put me behind in all the things I need to do. (I get around this one though by listening to books on tape from the library…a great escape!)

(4) I’m angry that I will not be able to retire to the “good life” we had planned. The house we had started to build sits idle with a completed foundation and likely will never become a home. All our spare cash goes to buying organic food, supplements, and equipment to meet his medical needs. We cannot travel because he cannot tolerate it. I can’t get an aide or assistant caregiver because they are too expensive full time so I must work and do his care on my own. If I were to retire (I’m almost 58) then we would not have enough money to continue to support his health as we do now and he would likely get worse. So I have concluded that I will have to work until I die or become disabled myself and can no longer go on.

(5) I’m angry about all the events I miss. I want to play with my grandson at the park, go to my parent’s home for family reunions, attend a conference at work, go to the Christmas cantata, attend church regularly, go places, do things; see people and I can’t. If an event is not at hour home, we don’t get to attend because Lynn cannot tolerate being out for very long and it’s challenging to get a caregiver that doesn’t cost anything when most of my “backup” caregivers are at these events themselves.

There is much about which I’m angry. I’m not upset with Lynn. I’m mad that he has MS. I’m angry at this monster has invaded our lives, and there is no getting rid of it short of death. I’m mad that as hard as we work to make him feel better than 6 ½ days out of 7, he feels terrible. I’m mad that he can’t help me. I’m angry that he can’t share in the joy of playing with our grandson. I’m furious that he can’t sing at church or play the drums or accompany himself with his guitar because he was SOOOO good at all these things.

I’m angry that I can’t fix this. I’m mad that I have to watch him suffer. I’m furious that he needs me so much and I’m angry that I can’t give more. I’m angry….

But not always. Just sometimes.
finish reading this article at http://multiplesclerosis.net/caregiver/caregiver-perspective-stages-of-grief-anger/

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Dealing with Loss

During my nursing training, I was introduced to Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ five stages of grief and loss related to helping patients and their families as they experienced dying and the loss of a loved one. Since that time, I’ve come to realize that those five stages of grief are not exclusive to death and dying. We experience the same emotions whenever there is a significant loss, including the loss of what “should” be.

I would suggest that most of us think of our life span in stages:
Stage 1 Preparation for Life:  Being born, the preschool years, completing K-12, college or career training
Stage 2 The Productive Years:  Finding a mate, starting a career, having a family, settling into a pattern of living.
Stage 3 The Plateau Years:  Instead of struggling up the hill to acquire and achieve more, you start to live out the life you have chosen with marginal ups and downs, some crisis, but you know what you have planned your life to be like and you’re living it.
Stage 4 The Declining Years: Children grown; maybe starting their own families. You are not still trying to build a career but are instead reaping the seeds you have sown so your push forward and upward is declining and now you’re settled and taking it easy. Probably having more aches and pains and the development of some chronic conditions has likely happened as age wears away at muscles, joints, energy, and memory.

That’s our expectation for how life should go. Then somewhere in your productive years, you start noticing that something is just not right with your spouse. He’s getting tired more often. He’s having more difficulty with activities. First, he goes to the doctor for this and then for that…he gets better but it comes back…and you start to wonder what’s happening. Then someone mentions Multiple Sclerosis. You dismiss that notion because it just can’t be true. He’s fine. He’s able to _____(fill in the blank depending on what you have seen of people before with MS). He’s young. He’s strong. He’s healthy….They are wrong. I won’t let it be true.

So you go look for “someone who knows what they are doing” and get referred to a neuro-someone—neurologist, neurosurgeon, neuro-ophthalmologist, or maybe a physical medicine/rehabilitation specialist.  Someone orders an MRI, a lumbar puncture is performed, and blood is drawn. Then you get the call, “your husband has MS,” and your blood turns to ice. No, it can’t be. They must be wrong. We have children to raise. I have a career. What if he can’t walk? How will I do this along (having already put in into the ‘disable’ category? What does this mean for us…for me?

And, just like that; you’re been thrown head first into the spiraling stages of grief and loss…only you’re not the one who has the condition causing the loss; you’re the one who is supposed to be understanding, supportive and their “rock” to hold onto while they go through their emotional crisis. But, when you’re married and your spouse has MS, he’s not the only one with MS; you have it too, by proxy. So the shock, disbelief, denial that happens with him also happens to you.
continue reading at: http://multiplesclerosis.net/caregiver/a-caregivers-perspective-dealing-with-loss/

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