When someone you love is in the hospital, you have to reorganize your entire life. In a very physically defined way, because you cancel plans and uproot yourself to drive six hours south to a live in a different house while you deal with things like paperwork and doctors and emotions. But your life also reorganizes itself in an intangible way.
You sit in a room and stare at piles of incomprehensible paper until someone notices that the clock on the wall is broken. That time, for all intents and purposes, has stopped. That the person in the bed staring at the clock, unable to move, unable to leave, must be in some motionless hell. You feel like it’s your job to fix it, so you stare at it, wondering what you need to do and postulating theories about what has to happen. Until your brother stands up, gently lifts the clock off the wall, and pokes the battery more firmly into place. And time starts again.
It’s intangible because something in your life has shifted. You know things aren’t quite right. The person you knew isn’t quite that person any more. But also they are. But they aren’t. Because they aren’t eating and the pain meds are doing strange things to their speech patterns and you don’t know when they’ll get better or if they even want to. Even as you go about your daily life, what your daily life has become, a small corner of your brain understands that something has changed. So you do serious mental and spiritual acrobatics until the world shifts again. Because this is what’s happening now. So this is what’s right.
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
This is so fragile. I feel like you just opened your closed palms and handed me a tiny, wounded baby bird. In this obviously difficult time it is inspiring that you can provide such calming, beautifully crafted words. My prayer today is for you and yours.
Hey Amber. Just wanted to say I’m thinking of you (and your dad) and sending good thoughts your way. Really hope you, he and the whole family are doing ok. Keep your head up, and if you need anything at all just say the word.
Thinking of you and yours.
Oh Amber, I’m really sorry about your dad. It just royally sucks that our parents age. I don’t like it AT ALL. It’s not fair, and it just seems like a mean thing to do to fundamentally good people. We should all be like Benjamin Button. I’m glad your brother is there to put the batteries back in. Tell him to shut up (and shower) and give you a hug. I would if I were there.
Thinking of you! Hope things get better fast!
Thinking of you, love!
nothing throws a magnet into ones mental gyroscope quite like a parent falling majorly ill. I know exactly the grey daze feeling you’re in cause I was in the same hazy hell when my Mom was in the hospital with congestive heart failure. Thinking good thoughts for your dad that he comes thru his illness with the same flying colours my Mom did. *HUGS* (and a tiny crocheted panda on the side)
In times like this sometimes it’s so easy to get worn down and feel like you’re lost. Please know that WE are all here to hold you up when you need it. Love you.
I’m sorry that this is happening! I hope that things start looking up for your dad. Take good care of yourself, OK? It can take over your life when a parent is sick, so while you’re taking care of your dad and supporting your mom, don’t forget about yourself.
{{{{{hugs}}}}}.
So sorry for you and your dad. I do hope he heals and gets better and that your life can find a new happy pattern despite the changes. Take care of yourself and let me know if you need anything.