Care Giver, Care Taker

I was just reading some of my older posts and noticing how much the theme of this blog has changed from being a very clinical and somewhat emotional discovery of my new disease, to a mechanism for which I try (in vain) to explore my marriage problems.  Of course, my husband and I probably wouldn't have as many problems if it weren't for this damned illness but it really has brought out  his "true colors" (if you'll excuse the cliche).  I've already written in length about having a strong support system or at least a single person you can rely on to take over the physical duties you can no longer do.  This is of course a huge commitment and in most cases, a bit much to ask of a friend.   But a parent, sibling or child should be willing and able to help you out (unless of course you've spent your life being a jerk, in which case I say "good luck!").  The obvious fit for the job of caretaker is of course your spouse.  Considering you both actually took a witnessed vow in which you said you would love each other in sickness and in health, it seems almost a contractual obligation. 

As you're reading this I can hear you thinking "What the hell is all this talk of contractual obligations?  Of course the "task" of care giver falls to your spouse if there is one and they are physically able.  Your spouse should want to take care of you.  After all, he or she loves you and would do anything possible to ease your suffering.  Right?"

I'm not suggesting by any means that caring for a sick spouse is easy.  It's extremely difficult, heart-wrenching and exhausting. Even the most saintly among us can slip under the immense burden.  I've now had the experience of being a caregiver and now one in need of a care-giver.  I was the only one to care for my ex-fiance several years ago who suffered from mental illness (OCD) as well as a severe bout of Lyme disease which rendered him hospitalized and very sick for the better part of a year.  His mental illness was the element that broke our relationship (at least that's what I believe).  Reading my journals from that time, I can practically feel my desperation pouring from the pages.  I spoke to his doctor on his behalf because his illness was so acute at one point (and his doctor had a really crappy bedside manner) that they had a hard time communicating.  I counted the days till his therapy sessions and doctor appointments, hoping that from one of them he would come home "fixed".  I guess I cracked before he did and ran screaming into the night, away as fast as I could, from our otherwise loving eight year relationship.  After about four years after we amiably parted ways, he got married.  I hope his new wife is stronger than I was.