When it comes to being a caring, compassionate person, I'd say that I'm about average.
I know people who are much more caring and compassionate than I am, and I also know people who are considerably less caring and compassionate. So I've got room to grow in this regard.
However, at the age of 76, I pretty much figured that I was set in my ways and wouldn't be improving my caring and compassionate quotient any time soon.
That was before my wife, Laurel, had shoulder replacement surgery. More accurately, reverse shoulder replacement surgery.
The difference between a reverse prosthesis and a standard shoulder replacement is that in a reverse prosthesis, the ball is placed on the socket side of the joint. This is opposite of where it is located in nature, or “reverse” of what you would expect. The socket is then placed on the arm side where it is supported by a metal stem in the arm bone (the humerus).
About ten years ago, I think it was, Laurel had surgery to repair a torn rotator cuff in her right shoulder. When it got torn again, my wife had to decide whether to go through another surgery, this time a total replacement of the shoulder.
She wasn't wild about the prospect of needing to wear a sling for around a month and go through the physical therapy needed for her to make best use of a new shoulder. But this was the wisest thing to do, so last Tuesday she had the surgery on an outpatient basis from her Salem Health doctor.
It went well. Now we're in the post-surgery recovery mode, which has been difficult for Laurel. The first 48 hours she was icing her shoulder via a machine for 40 minutes on and 20 minutes off. That meant sitting and sleeping in a recliner chair.
She was given several prescriptions to deal with pain and inflammation, along with other medications to dealt with the side effects of the prescriptions. In short, not fun, to put it mildly.
As with her first surgery, I'm Laurel's caregiver. She needs quite a bit of care. Basically I'm her right arm whenever she needs to do something that requires two arms. Which is a lot of stuff. Until someone has lost the use of an arm, you don't realize how difficult it is to do previously simple things.
Here's how I put my caregiving in a post on my Church of the Churchless blog, where I write more philosophically than on this blog and my Salem Political Snark blog.
Until you can't use an arm for much, it's difficult to know all the things you won't be able to do anymore. We're rediscovering those things, since Laurel had rotator cuff surgery on the same arm about ten years ago that also required her to use a sling for a month. Of course, we were a decade younger then, so everything is a bit tougher now that we're in our mid-70s rather than mid-60s.
I've been having to do a lot more around the house than I usually do.
For example, Laurel used to walk our dog in the morning and I did it most afternoons. Now I handle both walks. We shared cooking duties before her surgery. Now I have to help Laurel with her meals, unless it's a simple one that doesn't require two hands. For the first 48 hours my wife was constantly using a machine with a timer to ice her shoulder, 40 minutes on, 20 minutes off. My job was to rotate three sets of 12 frozen water bottles into the machine every eight hours, making sure a thoroughly frozen set always was available.
What I've discovered from all this extra taking care of Laurel is that the more I'm focused on her needs, the less it bothers me when something goes wrong in my life. This both surprised and pleased me. The first time it happened, it felt like I'd taken a pill that reduced the sensation of the problem I was having by about half.
Meaning, what used to irritate me considerably now irritated me only a little. It was as if constantly putting Laurel's needs before my own, even for just a couple of days, considerably lowered the feeling of Me I normally carry around. Having less Me rattle around in my mind, and more She (my wife), left less for an irritation to latch onto.
Also, after six days of caregiving, I've been pleased that aside from a single instance where I got a bit testy with Laurel and had to apologize to her for that, I've been able to be caring and compassionate toward my wife to a greater degree than I anticipated.
I hadn't realized that putting a loved one's needs before my own, which I readily admit should be my habitual way of acting, but hasn't been, can become a habit. It's sort of like I hadn't exercised my caring and compassionate mental muscle before, or at least not to the extent I'm doing it now (the exception being my wife's previous shoulder surgery).
So all in all, I'm feeling good both about Laurel's prospect for getting back almost complete use of her right shoulder, and my capability for learning how to be a more consistently caring and compassionate person. Of course, only time will tell how both things go.
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