Losing my Independence

For me the hardest thing to deal with at the moment is losing my independence. I am - or was - a supremely independent woman, that's how my mum raised me, I've travelled by myself, lived alone and financially taken care of myself for years, however now I sometimes can no longer do the simplest things by myself. Take housework, once upon a time I hated it and each push of the vacuum cleaner was done with a vile mutter under my breath, now I would give anything to physically be able to pick up my vacuum cleaner and clean the floor when I saw that it needed doing. Or to be able to put a load of washing on when I notice that its piling up. But no, now Brad has to do those things because I physically I am not capable anymore; there is no way I can carry a basket full of clothes downstairs (my house is high set) and then walk back up again, its just too much for me anymore. And I HATE it. I hate not being able to do these things more than I hated doing them once upon a time.

This loss of independence covers other areas too, like personal care. Having a shower is a huge energy zap to me, I don't quite know why, but all I know is that by the time I get into the shower, with my oxygen on, and then lather up I'm exhausted so trying to hold my arms above my head to wash my hair is impossible so I lean over the bath tub and Brad washes it for me then blow dries it afterwards. On a really bad day I have trouble drying myself and then dressing but on a good day I can do all of this but really, really slowly. A ten minute shower now takes me around 40 minutes.

Cooking is something that you wouldn't think could be that taxing right? Wrong! Even though we bought a fold up stool that I sit on at the kitchen bench I find preparing a meal as tiring as a 3km fun run I used to do for fun! As I said earlier, my house is high set, it has 20 stairs front and back and those stairs are incredibly difficult for me to undertake. Of course its not so bad going down them but coming up them, ughhhh. Lots of times Brad carries me. Those stairs scare me to be honest, because I know that the day will come when I won't be able to walk up them even at a snails pace and I will solely be dependent on someone or something else to get into my own home. And that is a very scary thought.