Driving Miss Daisy

No doubt you have heard, ‘Driving Miss Daisy’ or have seen the cute movie. Yesterday, I was Miss Daisy and have been in the past. My husband of thirty-one years is my Uber driver for medical procedures only when required, otherwise I am on my own.

I have had my share of procedures and surgeries in my life. The medical side of it all does not phase me, I find it interesting. To know what to expect, I usually Google or YouTube to watch prior to the actual procedures. I know some are reading this and thinking, Oh No! I do. If I mention or ask questions, which I do, the doctor or dentist will look shocked. I want to know. I found myself yesterday sitting up and looking over at the instruments going to be used on me, while waiting on the team to finalize their stuff. The nurse asked if I was okay, which made me realize what I was doing. Part of me wanted to be awake to watch and learn. Although, I knew I’d rather be knocked out and I was.

As with all medical procedures, as such, no driving, no making legal decisions and recommended that someone should be home or near the day of surgery or procedure, especially. Normal stuff, right?

No matter and all through the years, I have found that my husband stinks at this requirement. The driving to and from is fine. It is the aftercare that he has no sense of what to do, even when told. It’s free time off work and off he goes to play disc golf or whatever. Yesterday was no exception. Of course, I am resting and laying low but to not even ask if I was okay, needed anything, etc., did not happen. I see him drive off into the wild blue yonder. Part of me perturbed yet again, but I’ve learned to just throw up my hands and give up. I have to be strong and push through. Don’t mess with his routine of playing disc golf, the same time, every day. I could be dead and he’d never know. The routine business of his day for him is typical of having Aspergers.

I just don’t understand him and odds are he does not understand me. Opposites attract is correct, I guess. After this length of time, neither of us care. Just drive me to and from for required circumstances and we both can go on our own way thereafter. It would just be nice to have been doted on more in my life instead of just expecting me to pick up and go, even after major surgery, of which I have done numerous times. I am woman, I am strong, I can do it all. I have had to. It gets old and I am getting old.

To write and read this and to believe he does such, just trust me. I just don’t understand and find it sad. Once, I had written down what to do and how this day of surgery was to take place for me. I thought he understood, as we discussed. It was in black and white, numbered and all he had to do was follow the steps and be at the hospital at the time of my surgery. He was not there. The surgeon allowed extra time to wait on him and then talked to me as I am there in the surgery waiting area to go through the doors of the operating room. He did not want to continue with surgery because of his absence. He was mad. I was mad but what was I to do? I told him to continue on, I was fine with going forward. I was alone before, I was alone at this point and I will always be alone. There you go. Thankfully, I always wake from anesthesia quick, and I really think the Lord knows I need to do so in order to keep things moving forward at home.

Thinking back of such incidents, telling my counselor of what I have dealt with, it seems unreal. Like my thoughts and telling my stories are lies. Unbelievable, but they are all real. Whether it be Aspergers or just a lack of common sense, I don’t know but it is what it is. Knowing where I am now, my health has and is taking a beating from the pressure. This makes me angry and to see him drive off to go play while I could use a bottle of water and a snack perhaps. I’ll go get it myself.

One thing about it, I had a ride to and a ride from the procedure, as he drove Miss Daisy.

So in all of this, not meaning to whine and have a poor me, pity party, perhaps it will wake someone up that is reading this or knows of someone similar, as to how not to treat your loved one. They are out there, whether man or woman, and clueless of what is required and needed for such medical or just day-to-day existence.

We are wired to be loved and cared for in life, especially in a relationship. Otherwise, it is very lonely and after awhile you learn to let go and not need the other so much. Sad.

Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.” (Deuteronomy 31:8 NLT)

https://fiercemarriage.com/presence-midst-lonely-marriage

https://drmichellebengtson.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/15-Bible-Verses-to-Assure-You-When-You-Feel-Alone-Your-RX.jpg

Grouchy Pants

Tonight, I relived yet again the sound of a flat, monotone man, reminding me of all the years with him, yes with a roll of the eyes and a cringe. It is past his bedtime and we have a cat outside, in the freezing temps, as he calls for it. When I ask a question or see of any luck, I get the dreaded sound. Like a pout, boo boo, I want my bed, I need my sleep, it is past my bedtime. Life ends at 10:00 pm in our household, that has been since from day one. The cats even have to be in and quiet. Yes, and strangely enough they are, like he has programmed them. Well, so am I programmed basically.

Many women, wives, that I have had the opportunity to share a group for wives of Aspergers spouses, I hear this so often. The look, the voice, nothing but a stare. We are left to manage or figure out things and take care of matters. Knowing I am not alone in this endeavor feels good, as this has only been available to me the past six years. The previous twenty-nine years, I dealt with it, learn to despise and finally to the point of it all making me feel completely crazy. Thank God I had a counselor that pinpointed what was happening and what I was dealing with.

Many do not know about Aspergers or understand. I did not until 2014, which turned on a light in my dark, lonely tunnel I was living in. There is so much to this and the routine of it all, is amazing, especially with mine. Meeting or socializing can only be maintained in short periods and then a shutdown, which is typical in most. Whether it be with me, kids, his parents, company or whoever and I am left holding the conversation or visit, if it is bedtime or a ritual that is set.

So much. So much flooded my mind as I opened the door. Why did I even do that? Closing it, on the grouchy pants outside, he is just that, especially after his bedtime.

Thinking back of when we had kids and those teenage years when boys are just being boys, that did not go over well. Many times, I am sitting with them as their dad appears at the door to remind them to be quiet. I, too, as his wife and their mother was in trouble. I understand respect of being quiet at bedtime but not putting the fear of him on our kids, and me. No.

Try having a newborn and keeping it quiet after 10:00 pm. Not possible. The only thing was to go in the other room and tend to this beautiful child by holding him close to nurse and both of us falling asleep on the couch night after night, for months, if not a year. He did not care. He needed his sleep uninterrupted, just as he is today.

I wonder how he will be when he is older. Actually, I do not want to know. Jokingly, I have told him that if he even gets like his dad, I will put his butt in a nursing home. He thinks I am kidding.

So the grouchy pants of him has now made me grouchy thinking back of all the years I have dealt with this. Oh the stories I could tell. This story is yet to be continued but it repeats itself, day after day.

Here is some information that you or another may find helpful.

https://www.millcreekbehavioralhealth.com/development-disorders/aspergers/symptoms-signs-causes/

It’s Not About the Leaf

Fall is probably my favorite season. The beauty all around with leaves changing colors on various trees with the different shades. As I was driving to work the other day, there was this one tree, it was so bright and bursting with red and yellow leaves. I was so in awe that I remember saying that it was the prettiest tree ever. Further down the road almost to work, I look over and see another tree and I say again, that is the prettiest tree ever. I laughed at myself because of this pattern that would, of course, continue. Trees are wonderful to admire and get lost in not only the beauty but pleasant thoughts that provide a break of tasks ahead or problems or issues in our lives.


My husband dislikes leaves on the grass. One tree is always late losing its leaves and I swear, he’d be happy to shake the daylights out of it to finish and be done before winter. Maybe it is me that needs to shake it (or him), to stop listening to his moans of frustration.

I found myself yesterday when arriving home from work, looking over and staring at our neighbors’s maple tree. The golden orange was so vivid as the sun was on the tree and the leaves on the ground, like a reflection. Just so pretty. Knowing full well that all these pretty leaves will need to be raked and bagged. It’s a chore but it’s a fun chore.


Growing up in the house we live in, our one-acre lot behind us is plentiful with trees, which brings a lot of leaves. My favorite memory of the back yard is when it was completely covered with the golden yellow leaves, as in our neighbor’s yard. I like to enjoy this sight for at least a few days, looking out of my kitchen window, but it never happens nowadays. I am so glad I took in that sight to remember when I did, years ago.


The leaves also tend to make it inside the house, tracked in on the shoes or perhaps fly in when the door is open. A leaf here a leaf there, no problem. It is when this leaf is just overlooked and just sits there. He has no thought of picking it up and throw outside or in the garbage. Now I am starting to dislike the leaves, as I pick it up and throw out, only to repeat often. Frustration begins to be felt within me wondering why he cannot wipe his shoes or if tracked in the house, to pick up the leaf (leaves) and do the same as me. How is this so hard? The old saying, ‘were you raised in a barn’ comes to mind.

The funny thing is, as I am babbling on with my counselor the other day of my frustration over this silly leaf and of my situation at home between him and I, she smiles and states, ‘it is not about the leaf.’ We both laughed, as she was so correct. In that moment, a blog was born.


He is a happy man with himself and not a care in the world. No desire to change but continue the same routine day after day, year after year. I will yet again hear about the tree losing its leaves late. I will continue to see green grass while I admire my neighbor’s yard with the bright leaves. Yes, it is a good thing to mulch them but just let me enjoy the beauty for a few days.


I will again and again pick up a leaf here and there in my house that was tracked in and ignored. It is not about the leaf but only my frustration with him. Let it go! It’s a losing battle.