Independence

Yesterday was the 4th of July.

That is a day to celebrate independence.

Yesterday felt weird. It was the first day in what I am sure will be a string of building new traditions. Which, although liberating, is strange. And the 4th was always a big deal. The biggest deal of all of the holidays. And I have a confession.

I HATE the 4th of July.

I think the parade is boring and the fireworks stink.

There, that is MY declaration of independence.

But yesterday was ok. Too hot to really do anything so it was quiet and involved a nice long nap and sadly a terrible headache. The first really terrible headache. Which I have been nervous about. I should have known better. I was tucked on the couch and told not to move. I was kissed on the forehead and asked if anything could be done. I was told that being taken care of was his most important job. : ) I nearly cried.

And I got to thinking. About IIH and the role it played in the demise. I started to picture myself reading this blog and panicking as I wondered if that would be me and MY marriage and so I have decided to delve into it just a little bit. Just enough to let potential caregivers of someone with IIH know what it is like and what I want when I feel like crap.

IIH is frustrating for everyone. When you love someone and they are in pain your first response is to fix. Pills, ice, band-aids; anything to make it better. That is impossible with IIH. The thing you have to remember is that you can't feel their pain. And therefore you can't judge it. That was one of the mistakes that was made. It was by far not the worst mistake or the only mistake. It was not the one that sealed the deal or made up minds. It was something in a long lists of mistakes. It was by far not the deal breaker, but it did break me just a little bit more.

To have your life change and then to be made to feel over dramatic and useless when dealing with that change.

So my advise to all caregivers. Just be there. When pain hits just be there. I don't know how your sufferer reacts but I do know what I do, I hide. I slink off into another room and try and pretend that everything is ok. I rub my head and sigh until someone walks into the room and then I straighten like a kid who's hand was caught in the cookie jar.

Catch them. Sit them down. Kiss their forehead. Tell them to stop. Ask them what they need. Give it to them. Listen. Believe. Love. And if they need to pretend that they are fine and keep slogging through, let them. But be ready for the fall.

Just be perfect, like Prom Date. Maybe I will have him teach a class.