Piling on Work for the Disabled Woman

Sometimes I honestly do not understand how it is that NO ONE can put himself or herself in another person's position, especially where disability is concerned... and by disability, I will widen the definition to include people who are very short.

Let's start with this house... it was built for the couple who bought the land, specifically according to THEIR plans, and the husband was an engineer.  And yet, despite the fact that his wife was shorter than the allegedly legendary short Emperor and could not be even five feet in height, the cupboards soar to the ceiling and he even had an iron rack for wineglasses that no one short of six feet possibly could reach even on tiptoes.

He has been married for almost fifty years I daresay to the same woman who kept hearth and home clean and safe for him and his children and yet he NEVER thought about her needs... I see it everywhere in this house.  He built an enormous 'man cave' (his term) in the basement with Surround Sound, an enormous television and an exercise room for himself with every wall covered with mirrors (and a lock on the inside, so obviously he did not want her to enter!)... but for her, he designed an ironing board with a tiny television that was less than 2 inches in size above the dryer in the laundry room ('so she could watch her 'stories' while she worked' he told us proudly).  I would not have bragged about any of it were I in his shoes.

And now the actually disabled woman who has a 'home aide' who comes to help her bathe and fixes meals.  Bear in mind the fact that I cannot stand without support and I cannot stand even with support for very long... yet, when she prepares even the simplest dish, she uses at least four bowls and pans and leaves them all dirty in the basin afterwards!  I never understood why people needed more than one bowl for mixing in any case, but here it is and the person who is using them is leaving the dirty dishes for me to wash up!  What logic is this?  I cannot possibly clean up after the person who supposedly is doing 'light housekeeping' for me!

Then there are the shoes left everywhere in this room... the physical therapist wants me to wear a specific sort of shoe for my exercises but despite the fact that he constantly reiterates the need for safety and tells me that nothing is more important, when he helps me to remove the shoes, he does not put them away.  My aide as well always leaves one set of slippers or shoes of mine in the middle of the floor and they are not even together but look as though they were flung about by a severe storm and then left to expire separately.  How can this be safe for me?  It is like a minefield of shoes in here and God knows it is a tiny room without any space at the best of times.

I hate to make the same requests again and again but no matter how many times I ask her to use a single bowl or to place my shoes at the wall or in a corner, it never happens.  Almost every one who ever has had servants knows that one actually works harder when they are about unless one has a manager in the form of a butler because they require endless supervision.  It is not much different with home aides... I do understand that they have many patients and they can't be expected to remember all the little preferences of each, but some things are simply common sense.  I can't be the only disabled person who needs the floor to be clear for reasons of safety.   Even with a walker, it is unsafe when one is forced to drive over a couple of unpaired shoes or slippers... not to mention the host of pillows that are supposed to be used under my legs and yet are placed by other people out of reach on the floor higglety pigglety rather than being stacked somewhere neatly.

Soon I shall be losing my home aide soon for two out of the five weekdays for which she was designated.  I really like her and she is a wonderful, warm and caring individual but I am reaching a point where I wonder if a bit of peace and quiet might not be welcome on those two days.  No extra washing up.  No storm of unmatched shoes.  No pillow islands everywhere in my way.

Pain makes me uncommunicative in any case.  I know that socialisation is important, which is one reason why I do write game guides and attempt to communicate regularly with friends and loved ones if at all possible, even if it is only through email or text.  Real life communication is a little more tricky as I feel I have to pretend all is well, to paste a smile on my face, to laugh and joke and make light of life's trials.   I am not unhappy by nature, but almost two decades of chronic severe pain has taken some of the joy from my being.