Sad. Confused. Lost. Useless. Helpless. Tired.
This seems like a good time to warn my regular readers. This isn’t my usual Happy Monday or WHOOP-DEE-DOO! Life! stuff. I’m going through something. You may not want to read this post. It’s a bit much.
I am exhausted. These past few weeks have been torturous. I feel like this is a little bit of hell. I mean, really. If there is a hell, it doesn’t mind coming to earth. When it comes to earth, it visits people. It’s the guest that was never invited, and doesn’t ever want to leave. Apparently, it’s my turn to house it. Hell.
My mother had a multiple sclerosis crisis a few weeks ago. She was in the hospital for two weeks. She’s now staying at my grandaunt’s. I’m glad that she is now able to walk with a 4-prong cane instead of the friggin’ walker. And she’s moving much faster. She still has to pace herself. She can’t do too much. It seems that she’s getting better, and will make a full (but slow) recovery. This is fine. For now.
Mother was discharged on Monday. I believe it was Thursday that my grandmother was admitted. Seriously?! All I could think was, Seriously, can this stop now?! Apparently not. Things just keep getting worse. There was a family meeting last night. Really, it was my mother and her siblings. Plus my sisters. They weren’t invited, really. But they were there. Everyone needed to be told what was going on. I think my uncle was the only one who knew. And maybe my aunt. The other 5 brothers didn’t. Actually, one of the brothers is in New York with his daughter who just had a baby. I guess he still doesn’t know.
My uncle is the primary contact and my mother is the secondary contact (that the doctors have for my grandmother). The doctor couldn’t reach my uncle yesterday morning, so they called my mother. She called my sister to take her to the hospital. They needed her to sign the discharge form. They went on to explain things. Things my mother knew nothing about. But she pretended. She wanted to get more information, so she kept saying the “Yes, yes, okay” stuff but all she really wanted to do was scream. I talked to her this morning. She still wants to scream.
They’ve decided to keep things quiet. Everyone knows that Grammy has been having problems breathing lately. About 2 years ago, they had to get her an oxygen tank. Her shortness of breath was crazy. It’s still crazy. And not getting better. Sometimes, it seems like she has to fight to catch a breath between her words. Even talking is difficult now. There’s some type of pulmonary fibrosis and something-something else. That’s the story everyone has agreed to stick to. There will be no mass dissemination of new information. It’s scary. That word. That one word with six letters. Everyone dreads it. No one thinks it will happen to them, or anyone close to them. Least of all, their 80-something year old grandmother. The sweetest lady in the world.
Last night sucked. I find out this stuff from my mum and then I drove home. To an empty house. Babe was out, hosting a thing. I couldn’t bug her. I still wanted to speak to her. Just to say, “Hello,” and maybe possibly send some sort of wordless message that I needed her. Not that it would have done me any good. She was busy. So I sat on the couch. I stared at the wall. There was no music. She had the computer and the iPod with her. I didn’t know what to do. I got my new book. I didn’t feel like reading. I didn’t even open it. I text messaged a friend. A good one. Vanessa. I didn’t want to lay my burdens down, so I just kinda said, “Hey, whassup?” We chatted randomly. Then she asked about my mum. I told her. About my grandmother. And that I really wanted to go for a drive, but it was far too dark and sketchy. She offered to come get me, but I declined. It would have been too much. Too far for her to drive. And for what? To be stuck in a car with me? I couldn’t do that to her. Plus Babe went out with no keys. I couldn’t leave. I wanted to have a hot shower. But I couldn’t. What if she came home? I got no answers to my phone calls or text messages. I was pissed that I had no idea when she’d be back, or even if she was okay. No communication. That always pisses me off, but I was really on another level last night. The day and night just sucked. And it was no one’s fault.
I didn’t even have feelings. I was just numb. I sat there. With thought. Thoughts. Too many of them. Lungs. Liver. Spleen. Hospital. The unspeakable word. Quality of life. Future. Stupid, stupid Christmas. Eventually, I got a notepad. I scribbled some words. When I was done, I rested it down. Then, all of a sudden, I felt. And it was a lot. I cried like I don’t remember ever crying in my life. It was like I couldn’t breathe. I could get no air. It was horrible. I wondered if that’s how my grandmother feels when she talks to us. I told myself that I deserved it. To feel that way. That I was too selfish. Too mean. Too focused on ME, ME, ME. Babe was right when she said it in her own way. I was right to hate myself a little bit more than usual. I was a terrible person who was not nice. Maybe I caused this. Maybe, somehow, my overall crappiness as a person caused this. Maybe I’m the link. I’m the one bringing all these enormous heaps of awful to the people around me. It was me. And I cried. And then I saw the selfishness in that. I was pitying myself.
Babe called, finally. She said she was 10 minutes away. I took that time to go in the shower. Of course, 3 minutes later, the doorbell rang. Out of the shower and onto a towel, I shuffled across the floor to unlock the door, and then back to the shower. I finished up. I calmed myself. Straight to bed, I went.
I’m exhausted. Did I mention that? I can’t seem to catch myself. No matter how much I sleep, I’m not feeling rested. At all. This has to be more than a physical exhaustion. Mental and emotional too, I bet. There is too much happening. Too fast.
What will tomorrow bring? Hell. What will the next MINUTE bring? I have no idea. I don’t even know if I have any hope left. *puts hands in pockets, and takes them out. Empty*