When the Worse Part Happens, in "For Better or Worse"

Writing With intuitive Clarity

Jul 03, 2025

Andy and I caught the Covid virus on the plane coming home from Canada and were sick together for a week. Then, we got better and our lives began again for real. Then, I had a rebound and felt sick again but luckily, Andy was fine and had no rebound effect.

As all this sickness unfolded in our lives, my caregiving role didn't stop. Through it all, I continued to help him take medicine, eat, drink and wash and all the other aspects that make up our lives. My exhaustion became a challenge for me and I took a moment to look up at the sky. Dark clouds were rolling in from the south and they looked ominous as the wind sped them towards us.

I was trying to get Andy dressed and the position I was in, bending over trying to get his legs into his pants was uncomfortable for me. Parkinson's makes Andy's movements slow and for me the tedious waiting became too much and I shoved his other leg into the pants so I could stand up.

"Hey, don't be like that." He whispered loudly.

I had reached a breaking point. "I can't wait forever for you to get your damn leg in the hole." I retorted unkindly.

The next day, I drove the six hours round trip so Andy could see his neurologist. The days going to Albuquerque and back in one day are very long for me and very worthwhile for Andy. Our travel is completely silent unless I want to say something without any hope of a reply. I feel like everything rests on my shoulders. I remember to bring his special water cup so he won't get dehydrated. I brought food for both of us. At the doctor, I ask about a new type of brain stimulation I have read about, called adaptive stimulation and I wonder if Andy is a candidate for it and if it might be a way for his voice to return? It turns out he is a candidate and requires a data collecting period that his doctor begins right away.

On our way home, I am feeling uncomfortable in the driver's seat position but I keep on going because I want to get home and there isn't any other choice. When we get home, Andy is exhausted even though he's slept most of the day. Parkinson's is truly a disease that steals energy.

I'm exhausted too.

But I make dinner, help him get ready for bed and then take care of myself before we lay down to sleep.

That storm is back again and rain pours down with drops beating our metal roof and lightning brightening our room periodically. At 3am I hear a boom and I immediately know it is not thunder. Andy has fallen on his way to the toilet and is floundering on the floor all twisted up.

I check his head and he tells me he didn't hit it. Whew. I check his limbs and all seems well except he can't get himself up in such a narrow space. I didn't lose my cool then, but I do sometimes. The storm raged on as I helped get Andy back to bed.

Caregiving is hard.

Because Andy is my husband, I can see the worse part of our "for better or worse" marriage vow. I write a lot about the successes, joys and deep connections that are made when caring for a loved one. This time, I thought I'd share some of the rough moments that also exist.