It's a quarter to four in the morning. I'm tired and I have work in about seven hours but I don't want to go to sleep. I haven't been wanting to sleep lately. My diet has gone to crap. I seem to be punishing my body. This is what I do to dull the pain. Some people cut, some do drugs, some drink; apparently, I stay up and eat. I know it's not healthy and it doesn't even feel good, but I can't seem to find the will to rest.
I'm tired. Generally, genuinely tired. I know I'm depressed. I'm not handling this well at all. I didn't even Facebook Fast last weekend. My life activities seem to be pulling into a singularity: Be around for Mom.
Thing is... Mom's pretty much gone. Not entirely, but she's definitely not there like she was. She takes too long to answer questions most of the time, if she answers them at all. She's begun arguing over taking medication. She barely has the energy to get herself to the bathroom. I'm going to help her shower in the morning, another reason I should be asleep instead of blogging. I want her to try medical marijuana so she'll freaking eat something. Dad and I wonder if she'll starve herself before the cancer gets her, she eats so little--not even a full glass of milk or bowl of jello or soup in a full day.
As Dad said, I don't want to pray her through the veil, but I don't want her to suffer, either. I haven't had time to release everything pent up inside of me in weeks, and my doctor is concerned about my latest blood tests. I don't have time for this, but I can't seem to stop it from happening. I've already withdrawn from most of my life for the time being. I know that's not healthy, either.
This was never covered in school.
Friday, April 20, 2012
3 comments:
Thank you for wanting to leave me a message. I hope you've found something I've said edifying, and you'll extend the same to me. Please be positive, I'm not here to argue, but rather to just have a place to write things that I find spiritually uplifting, or share my own ponderings on matters of faith. Thank you.
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Oh sweetie.. You really need to take a day off to do nothing but sleep. You're taking too much on your shoulders. I wish so much that I could be there to help (as in, strap you to your bed and sit on your face so you can't open your eyes, because that is the kind of friend that I am).
ReplyDeleteLet yourself grieve. Let yourself fall apart. Let your Mother comfort you in Her infinite wisdom and love for you.
I wish we lived close by so I could hug you. Watching a parent slip away is so....indescribable. And the way it feels inside your body....also indescribable. You are loved, and people are thinking of you.
ReplyDeleteI have been thinking about this for a couple of hours since reading it.
ReplyDeleteI remember when we lived in Pelican (a tiny Alaskan bush town with no hospital and only 70 people), a woman died while we were there. Esther was old, I don't know how old, but she had lived a good life with a loving family. Her body began to wear out, and she decided that she was ready to leave life. I suppose she could have gone to some kind of care facility in Juneau, but then she would have been away from family and the home she'd lived in for so long, and she preferred to just be done. One day she just stopped eating. A few days later she peacefully died, with her family around her. She died on her own terms, on her own turf. At the time, I remember thinking that it seemed like a very peaceful and rational way to go.
I have always supported the idea of having arrangements made to pull the plug if I become a vegetable. When there is no quality of life left, there's no point in having quantity. In recent years I have come to support assisted suicide for the same reason--I think there is a dignity in choosing to go gentle into that good night rather than raging against it. We know what awaits us on the other side.
When I was in my teens, a man in our ward died unexpectedly in his early 50s. Following his funeral they held an open house at their home. It was more like a BBQ in attitude...or a wake...people passed around a notebook and wrote memories of him, but otherwise they sat around and chatted and laughed and reminded each other of the great things about him and his life. His wife said "he isn't grieving, he's happy, and he would want us to be happy too."
I know that is easier said than done, and I'm not saying to not grieve now or later. But I think it's wise to remember that your mother loves you and will miss you, but she will not be grieving as you will. Grief is for you, for as long as you need it to process things. But don't hold onto it more than you need to. The time will come for moving on, for feeling happy, and you can't feel guilty at that. She would want it and you will need it. And it's appropriate. The cycle and cycle of life continue.