Antoinette Batchelor - What do I do differently?

Recently, I was asked, what I have to do different for my husband because of his injuries and I was stumped for a minute. What do I do differently? I mean there are certainly things I wouldn’t do if he wasn’t injured, but his injuries are as much a part of him as any of his traits. But it got me thinking.

Jim was injured during his 2004 deployment to Iraq, he was shot between the eyes, and apart from a small scar on his forehead he looks reasonably unscathed. He appears to be a mostly fit, healthy 36 year old. A few grey hairs coming in at his temple (he’s rather proud of those), a little extra weight, smile lines, he looks “fine”.  But the question remains, What is different in our marriage because of Jims Injuries.

I guess, when I stop and take a moment to look at it, it’s a thousand little things that I don’t notice on a daily basis. Its warning him before I make a loud noise. I learned very quickly after we were married that the step stool makes a loud popping noise when you snap it into place. I learned very quickly loud unexpected popping noises from step stools cause an adrenaline surge in Jim that takes a while to come down from. I learned if his adrenaline levels stay too high for too long there will be vomit.

It’s carefully reading movie reviews before I suggest we go see them, to make sure they won’t trigger any negative reactions.  That particular lesson was learned at 7 months pregnant with our first child when we decided to go see the John Travolta film from Paris, with love. After that sleepless night, we only watch science fiction and fantasy based movies. The Avengers explosions? Yes. Olympus has fallen explosions? No.

 It’s constantly being aware of two conversations going on if we are in a social setting. The one that I’m involved in, and the one that he’s involved in. It’s quietly intervening if the subject matter is going to become an issue. It’s time spent preparing him before we go anywhere. Explaining the situation and what’s expected of him.  Hug the widow, offer condolences. Thank the host. Offer the graduate congratulations.

Jim is highly intelligent but his TBI means he struggles with empathy, and handling other people’s emotions. He will often cover up these deficiencies with awkward humor, and sometimes hard to follow changes in topic. If he’s not interested in a topic or doesn’t know how to relate to the subject matter he sees no reason to continue it and will without warning change it to something he is interested in. I hope you like politics. It makes maintaining friendships with non-veterans challenging.

It’s double and triple checking before I do anything , to make sure he doesn’t need me for something. It’s the awkward conversation with friends who can’t understand Jims needs (“But he looks fine!”).  “No I can’t go out today.” “No, It’s probably best if you don’t stop by unannounced, please, really, don’t do that.”  “No, I can’t just leave him home with the children with 30 minutes notice to come drink coffee with you.”  “No, we won’t be able to make it to the barbecue, I’m sure it’ll be a great time, but 30 something people Jims never met isn’t going to make for a pleasant time for either of us.”

It’s holding his hand under tables to keep him distracted. It’s arranging restaurant seating so he can face the door. It’s convincing him in the middle of the night that the house is safe, that our children are safe, that its ok to sleep. It’s, double, triple checking plans before we go anywhere to reassure him that all eventualities are accounted for. It’s going over that plan with him 6 times before he believes me. It’s sitting with him when he can’t sleep. It’s not being able to work outside of the home, because your boss gets a little annoyed with 3 trips to the VA in a week and a lunch time call asking you to come home because the day is too much to handle. (Thank Heavens for the heroes thanking heroes) It’s a thousand other things. But mostly? Most importantly, It’s worth it.
 And the thousands of reasons it’s worth it far outweigh the thousand little things I do