If I were still married, asking my husband to fix me breakfast would have been a disaster. Harley got up at 6 a.m. every day we were married. His routine was to go to a convenience store like 7-11 to get a cup of coffee and sweet roll and come home to putter in the garage. On Sundays I slept in and he went to a flea market. If he made breakfast for me after my stroke, one of us would have had to change life-long habits. Repeated frustration can turn into resentment.
It does not matter if I can get out a box of cereal, a bowl, and a spoon. My hemiplegic hand has to reach out to grab the handle of the milk container to stop it from moving when my sound hand pulls off the cap. Even if my husband opened the container the 1st time, prying the cap off one-handed could make the container tip over.
If I cannot open the milk container I cannot finish what I started
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