I have a myriad excuses, but I won't bore you with those - I barely care about them so I imagine you would feel much the same.
I find myself in a place lately that is less than desirable.
Confused, overwhelmingly contemplative - maybe even a tad depressed. I dare say, maybe all that tinged with a little bit of anger too - not a good place to say the least.
My best friend Mary's dear friend Inge, has suffered a cardiac arrest and has been laying in a coma for over a week. The prognosis is bad, as brain damage seems evident on her scans and questions are swirling about in the minds of those who love her, 'what will she be, if and when she wakes up?'
Inge is not my friend, merely a concern by association, but those of you who know me well, know that even those scenarios are enough to send me into an emotional tale spin. I don't have to be your best friend to have your plight ruin me.
Plus, this situation is hitting incredibly close to home considering the issues I have faced with my Grandparents.
The whole role reversal - child to health care proxy, Granddaughter to advocate, "pumpkin" to life and death decision maker - no fun, honestly, the worst time in my life.
There have been a few years between the adrenaline of living it, which somehow in the moment sustains you and keeps the emotions at bay so that you can function under such pressure - I find, talking to Mary, considering Inge and her children, the space between me and my Nana's stroke, my Grandfather's suffering, has given me time to absorb the emotion and now it is surfacing and I am full of feelings I don't like, not one bit.
My Nana had a massive stroke - she too was in a coma - she too suffered brain damage and paralysis - she lives on....In a state that I never ever want to get to.
In the process of her long deterioration, so many questions arose.
Do we put in a feeding tube, or let her starve?
Would she want that, she is Catholic?
Do we call the priest for last rights?
Do well sell the house?
Do we keep the casserole dishes or donate them to Goodwill?
This part of life sucks - sucks so bad that I allow myself to FEEL the emotions surrounding the events that have long since played out, I cry - always cry - cry to the point that my chest closes and my guts hurt and I rage inside, fight against a role reversal that has forever changed what my Grandparents were, stained my previous memories of them for the rest of my life.
When your Grandfather begs you to help him (meaning kill me) and you cannot release him because it is illegal - me and him at the bowling alley when I was ten, gets pushed back to the recesses of my mind which is instead burned with an image of his desperation - and worst of all, lack of dignity.
I am sad and angry and stressed.
These events (for the time being) are inactive. My Papa died last year and my Nana is in a nursing home in Boston, far from my advocacy - and yet....I am considering these issues for myself, my own future, my own mortality.
I decided long ago, that when I begin to legit decline as an elderly person, I am taking a big ass bottle of pills and chugging it back with a bottle of good patron - going into the big sleep on my terms, never ever chancing my kids having to change my diaper, or feed me pureed food.
But, the scary thing - like with Inge, is that very quickly - illness and injury can steal away that control, negate every living will and leave you in a limbo - out of the clear blue sky.
One day you are fine, the next day - coma.
I hate it. Hate it with all my heart - it frightens me in a way that I cannot articulate, but especially on a work day morning when I am running out of time.
This is one of those situations, that unless you have lived it - cannot understand.
I have lived it - Inge's kids are living it now.
It changes you - changes your perspective, alters your resolve, brings your own death into a clear focus that at my age, serves as a bitter distraction when I need so much, to be productive and present.
I am in a fog - caught between darkness and light - between life and death.
I am miserable.
And....I am taking shitty care of myself and hating myself for it - feeling really angry at me for the lousy ass care, especially in light of all my concerns regarding health.
The sensible me, screams 'take care of yourself Deb, you know exactly how to do it' But the pissed off and sad, unreasonable me counter screams 'well don't bother, you'll drop dead from a heart attack and the kids will never have a choice to suffer through - smoke up!'
There is a battle waging inside of me, it's ugly and is stealing my brain power.
I am basically unplugged from school this semester - sigh
I have written six essays for the writing contest (that I won last year) and don;t know that anyone of them is a winner.
I cannot make it through a paragraph of any of my text books and retain a word, a theme, a meaning.
I'm not doing well - ugh and I am pissed off about it.
I keep making 'new start' commitments - today I am going to do all my homework.
Today I will limit caffeine to two cups. Today I will get up at 5:30 and go for a walk.
Blah blah blah - yadayadayada...
Instead I rub my tired eyes until my eyeballs throb from the friction and sit with my head in my hands, remembering things I don't want to remember and consider things I don't ever want to come to fruition....
This is the hardest thing about aging - losing loved ones that came before you and preparing to leave behind the ones that came after.
sigh.
And now I must leave this comfortable spot at my kitchen table where I could sit all day and write poetry to empty out my angst, but instead I must go to work and pretend to care about clothes and jewelry, read my text book at lunch and live....
Sorry to be a downer - it's just where I am....
Peace.
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