Note: From the files of Cleo: #305-2014
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I'm a 29 year-old woman, married for eight years. After years of living with my guilt I've now been in counseling for almost a year, and I hope the healing process is working. I know readers will condemn me for what I am about to write here, but that's okay. Maybe I need that as part of the healing process. I won't try to sugar-coat this or spare myself in any way for my actions. They are despicable and reprehensible in every respect. I am not a great writer so I am having help in writing this. What hurts the most is my having to re-live every detail all over again. Here goes.
I've always wanted to be a nurse. In high school I worked as a "candy-striper" at a local hospital, and then went to school to become a nurse. It was there after my second year that I met my husband whom I'll call Rick. Rick is a doctor. He mostly travels all over the world for weeks at a time, holding seminars and giving instruction on a new device he's perfected. He is well-known in most of the hospitals so I won't name the city we live - or the device - for that might identify him. Like his dad who worked in construction before a debilitating illness, he makes a lot of money and we live comfortably.
Four years ago my father-in-law, a heavy drinker at the time, suffered a head injury that causes him to lapse into a coma-like condition for days at a time, with no warning. Otherwise, he is normal and relatively healthy. He was a widower and his life-style of drinking and a constant bevy of young women hanging around didn't set well with either Rick or me. The illness was instrumental in him selling his business and retiring, which resulted in him being greatly depressed and made us fearful for his well-being. At first, he paid an attendant to take care of him while he was suffering from an attack, but he is a difficult patient - read that as "over-sexed" - and after firing a dozen young nurses, it was difficult to find replacements. Rick suggested that his dad, whom I'll call Cal, live with us and that I quit my job at the hospital and take care of him full-time. We have a large house and while I argued at first, over-all, it seemed the best solution.
Cal is a big, rough man with minimal education who is what most folks would call a "self-made" man. He didn't get there by being timid and I've heard stories of his ruthless business dealings for years. My husband Rick is about five-eleven, one hundred eighty pounds. Cal is six-foot-four, two-fifty, so all of us knew taking care of him wouldn't be easy. The three of us sit down and discussed it, Cal promising to be a "lamb" and do exactly what I told him. Rick took him aside and emphasized that any undue "touching" would be grounds for the agreement to terminate. I finally agreed to try the arrangement for a few months with the option I could stop at any time I wanted to. Cal kept his word and things seemed to be working out.
To those who don't know, coma is a state of unconsciousness where the person is not responsive. The doctors said it was a result of brain trauma due to the injury he suffered, exasperated by excessive alcohol abuse and low sugar. I've discovered that while comas can be permanent, they often last only a few weeks. We had high hopes that Cal's condition would eventually turn around. The first few weeks were encouraging.
The first time Cal had an episode, it was total disaster. I found him, unresponsive, sitting in a chair in his room. He had soiled himself. While not new to such things because of my nursing experience, I still had to hire off-duty medics to assist me getting him into bed and cleaning him up, because he was just too heavy to move. Since then I've come to recognize his approaching episodes and take steps to be proactive. When I saw he was becoming depressed, a precursor to an attack, I would strictly control his diet, get him to thoroughly shower, and guide him to bed. Since his comas only lasted for one or two days, that helped with having to move him later, plus solved the incontinence problem. To be honest, he was a much bigger problem when awake then in a coma. At least I didn't have to bathe him then. As for his promise, Cal was the perfect gentleman.