We lived in the country on forty acres of farmland where power outages were commonplace, and restoration was low on the Electric Company’s priority list. Frequently the power went out for a few minutes, sometimes a few hours, and occasionally a few days.

Normally I wouldn’t be too concerned, but Frank was confined to a hospital air bed twenty hours a day while he recovered from a stage 3-4 decubitus ulcer –a very deep pressure sore. The air bed is designed to relieve pressure, but if the power supply to the bed is interrupted, all the air leaks out. I was a nervous wreck. Without power, it would take less than five minutes for the bed to lose all the air and Frank would be lying on a metal frame.

The process of transferring him from the bed to his wheelchair is achieved with the use of a body sling and a Hoyer lift, which is meticulous and time-consuming. The thought of attempting a transfer at a moment’s notice, possibly at night, in the dark, created considerable anxiety for me. It could be a disaster. I had to talk to Frank about my concerns.

“Frank, we need to get a generator. If we lose power, you’ll be lying on a cold, hard piece of metal for God knows how long. You would be worse off than you are now.”

“I don’t want to spend money on a generator.” He replied

“I know, but this is too much stress.” I retorted. “If we don’t get a generator, I’m divorcing you.” I wouldn’t have done that, and Frank knew it, but I had to make it clear how important this was to me.

After a brief pause, he answered. “I guess we’re getting a generator.”

The next day Frank spent his precious four hours out of bed on his computer researching generators. He found one at Sears and had it delivered within days. We went over everything I needed to understand about how the generator worked. I knew that when the time came to use it, I would be under a lot of pressure with only minutes to get the air bed plugged in. I wrote numbers 1,2,3,4 on bright yellow stickers and put them on the generator next to the steps of operation. We placed the generator next to the garage door to make it easy to move into the driveway for ventilation and placed the extension cord on a storage wrap to prevent tangles.

Within two weeks, the power went out, but I was ready. The minute the house went quiet, I ran to the garage, opened the garage door, wheeled the generator into the driveway, and quickly started looking for stickers 1. Switch, 2. Choke, 3. Fuel, 4. Start. BAM! The generator started like a champ. Next, I had to plug one end of the 100’ extension cord into the generator and pull the other end through the house to the bedroom. A 100’ extension cord is heavy, and it caught on something as I winded around corners and furniture. I didn’t want to take time to look for the snag, so I tugged on the cord with all my badass strength. Suddenly the cord let loose. My hand jerked towards me, and the heavy-duty three-prong connector hit me in the head above my right eye. Holy shit! That hurt. There was no time to waste, so I continued to the bedroom, cussing a few choice truck driver words under my breath.

I quickly plugged the extension cord into the air bed, noticing only a couple of inches of air left in the mattress. My composure returned as I heard the motor's hum, and the mattress began to fill with air slowly. With a sigh of relief, I stood next to the bed, watching Frank’s body rise slowly with the mattress.

Frank looked at me with wide eyes.

“What happened to your head?” he asked. “You have a lump the size of a golf ball on your forehead!”

Yes, I am a Badass Superhero caregiver!