Filed under: My Heart
What do you do when your own body becomes your worst enemy? I’m desparate for sleep, yet it’s my own body that keeps me from sleep. I need rest to recover my health, but my body is flooded with hormones and adrenaline in odd proportions and rest is difficult to find. I know where I want to go healthwise for the sake of my body, but my body itself is preventing it.
This has been frustrating to say the least.
Of course, I still have to function and think and process (not easy on 90 minutes sleep per night). I still have to relate to people in a healthy, loving way. I admit it’s a struggle. I feel I’ve neglected my daughter, especially in her home-schooling. She is quite capable of independent study and has been doing very well, but I know she’s struggling with Geometry proofs. It requires analytical thinking on my part to help her and that’s not a strength of mine at the moment. I’m taking my required continuing education courses that require me to read dry insurance texts. Boring on the best of days, but please don’t ask me what I read yesterday. Poof! It’s gone. And, as our fiscal year ends next week, I’ve been crunching numbers, reviewing financials, and planning budgets for the coming year. Oh, yeah. That’s workin’.
The most critical thing is relationships. My husband has been so gracious and supportive, but I know he’s at a loss. He understands, having dealt with a long list of health issues, what it is to battle one’s own body. He wants to fix me, make it all better, but he doesn’t know how any more than I do. I know that when I’m really having to work mentally, being attuned emotionally is that much more work. Or I can be gentle, gracious, compassionate and have nothing left to focus what’s left of my intellect. Tough choice. The result? I’m a forgetful, but happy, air head.
There is a plan in place to help my body heal itself. I’m frustrated that it’s taking so long to get all the treatments and potions together. A week isn’t really all that long, even two, but what’s happening with me physically is the accumulation of 14 months of intense, unrelenting stress and loss. I’m ready to heal and I’m impatient for it, which I’m sure isn’t helping.
So once again I sit at my desk in my darkened office on a cold moon-lit night sending my pleas to Heaven.
I visited a colleague today I hadn’t seen for several months. It’s comforting to know that people think of and pray for me. I tried to keep it light when we were talking about this past year and I summarized with, “God’s been purifying me with fire this year.” He said it was more than fire, perhaps an inferno and he wondered when it would end.
I wonder that too.
It’s been cold here. Very cold. The ground is frozen. The moisture in the soil has crystalized and the ground looks like it’s covered with glass grass. Beautiful. The best part is the sun has been shining – not something that happens often in a NW winter. The laugh-odils are starting to come up, the sun is out. What a treat!
In my mind I’m going through my checklist of what’s new or different since I last posted. Not too much: My Dad has stabilized, my body’s still a train-wreck but a plan is in place to get me back in good health, my husband is still wonderful.
A few of my children are struggling and that always concerns me. I find it interesting – I’ve reached the point in my grief for Nathan where my thoughts of him don’t bring tears to my eyes as often. I remember amusing things or things we all did together. I’ve found, however, that the times I ache for him most are when I see my other children self-destructing – making foolish choices and facing the difficult consequences of their actions. Where they would ignore our wise counsel, they would seek out Nathan. He raised the bar and set a higher standard by the example of his own moral character and integrity. Nate wasn’t perfect, but his mistakes were honest ones and his intentions and focus were right. So many of their trials are self-inflicted and could be so easily avoided by pursuing and applying wisdom and humility. I just hate the futility of it. But they are adults and the responsibility is all theirs.
I had a neat visit with Dad yesterday. I was asking him questions about his life and we talked about his experience as a Marine during the Korean War, coming home to attend college on the GI Bill, joining the Air Force Reserves, meeting his wife. Throughout his story telling, each time he came to a decision of this path or that, he always concluded with “it all worked out all right.” My father is very private and would never boast of himself or put his own agenda or needs ahead of anyone else. He worked hard, he showed up, put in his time, he is honest, trustworthy, gracious, generous, and humble. And at the end of his life he can say, with satisfaction, “it all worked out all right.”
There is wisdom to be gained in that.
Dad and I have often disagreed about my career path(s). I’ve done many things, but the common thread has always been teaching and communication. Dad said to me yesterday that he always wanted me to be a writer, he thinks I have a gift for putting words together in a particular way. I said, “Funny you should say that.” I’ve been thinking the same thing. Dad and I agree! Amazing. Part of why I haven’t posted here for a while is I have been writing elsewhere. Perhaps you’ll see those words in print someday. I hope my Dad does.
The long term effects of stress. That’s the topic that has been on my mind lately. Constant grief, anxiety, over-work, under-sleep. This has been a ridiculous year!
I found a small, painful lump where there shouldn’t be a lump. Wasn’t terribly concerned, but went to the doc anyway. Mammogram is scheduled for Thursday. Blood tests and other labs have proven what I’ve known for many months…My body’s a mess!! All the results of long term, unrelenting stress.
My dad is back in the hospital after being in there several days last week. This time with a very mean and nasty pneumonia. We’ll be talking with hospice personnel later this week. He hates being in the hospital and we want to get him home and comfortable as soon as possible. I have spent, and will doubtless continue to spend, hours sitting, watching, praying, reading, spooning ice chips, balming chapped lips, holding cups and straws, doing whatever is necessary.
My brother Tim, Mom, and I were chatting in Dad’s room Sunday. My brother is getting married, adopting a delightful little boy, and becoming step-dad to three other kids. His good friend of the same age has just become a grandfather. It struck me what a strange time of life this is – mid-40s. Some of us have small children, others have grandkids. All of us, at some point, are also caring for aging and dying parents.
It seems that all of life is intensified at this stage. All the lessons, wisdom, experience, resilience of the past four decades are proven and tested all at once. Perhaps that’s why I hear from older friends that the 50s are the best decade. If I can survive my 40s, I think I will agree with them.
I have also found that my friends at this time of my life are the true treasures. In the past 72 hours my three precious sisters in Christ have each, completely independently of each other, reached out, spent time, showered me with care and encouragement. Leah, Shawn, and Danette – I know you are watching my back, you are lifting my arms during the battle. I love you so much and I’m so thankful for you.
I’m in “Game On” mode. It’s my role to take care of my family in the crisis, to talk with medical personnel, to manage home and business while being away for days at a time, caring for the physical and emotional needs of my family. And I will meet that challenge, God willing. But I can’t help but think that there’s a crash landing coming. I’ve been doing this since Nathan died 14 months ago. Somehow, in trying to save everyone else, I’ll have to remember to try and save myself too.
