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A year ago, in an instant, I became a caregiver. My husband passed out walking up the stairs in our home _ a combination of medications and his heart condition. He fell backward, thumping into a large, ornamental pot at the foot of the stairs.
His head broke the pot. The pot broke his head, causing a skull fracture that damn near killed him and left him befuddled and confused for months.
Bob is fine now, but after his fall he spent two weeks in intensive care in the hospital, then was sent to a nursing home for rehabilitation. He called me several times a day from the nursing home to beg me to get him out. He didn't comprehend that I was recovering from total knee-replacement surgery at the same time and couldn't care for him alone.
It took me a week to have a friend relocate from Colorado to California for an extended stay as our dual caregiver. After she left _ after I ...