I survived another day
I went to a cookout over the weekend to hang out with some of dad's motorcycle club brothers and sisters. I mostly went to escape. I needed a break from the hospital, from the questions, from the bills and the medications, the tears and the "how are you?" And it was wonderful. My face hurt from laughing. If you need a break, hanging out with military vets and their families is a helluva way to have a good time.
I even survived Mother's Day. I broke down reading messages sent to me while sitting in the waiting room at the hospital. Tears just started streaming down my face while I was waiting to go back in and see Dad after his dressing change. There happened to be three lovely women sitting in there with me who noticed and they gave me the best hugs. They were kind as could be and talked with me a little while and I managed to pull myself back together before I went back in to see Dad again. Other than that, I managed to keep it together pretty well. I went to a brunch and a dinner even.
Today is back to hospital visits and telephone calls and arguing with people on the phone. Do yourselves a favor. Make arrangements for What If situations. Find someone you trust and make them your POA and them make someone else your secondary POA. And make sure all of your documents are organized and accessible ALL OF THE TIME. Because even when they are, your POA will have to become a PITA and argue with people. And sit on hold, and argue more. And sit on hold, and argue even more. It is a wonderful, delightful process. [sarcasm mode fully enabled]
Dad is doing better today. He was giving me orders, told me to keep people away so he could rest, and was audibly speaking. The nurse told me he is actually breathing on his own a little, which is huge progress. He's exhausted, but we will take any progress we can get.
I'm bone deep tired. Grief is exhausting. I forgot how exhausting. It's even more exhausting when you're in another state. I'm away from home, away from my bed and my own home. And I have no idea when I'll be able to go back. I just don't feel ready. Dad is making progress, but until he's off that ventilator and feeding tube, I'm just not ready.
I'm so grateful to my cousins for opening up their home to my siblings and me. And grateful to everyone for all of their love and support, but this is a process. A painful, dirty, nasty process. And I still can't figure out if taking care of Dad so soon after losing Mom helps a little or is just helping push some of the pain aside. Honestly, I'm a bit scared of what life looks like after all of this. Because none of it will be recognizable again.
I even survived Mother's Day. I broke down reading messages sent to me while sitting in the waiting room at the hospital. Tears just started streaming down my face while I was waiting to go back in and see Dad after his dressing change. There happened to be three lovely women sitting in there with me who noticed and they gave me the best hugs. They were kind as could be and talked with me a little while and I managed to pull myself back together before I went back in to see Dad again. Other than that, I managed to keep it together pretty well. I went to a brunch and a dinner even.
Today is back to hospital visits and telephone calls and arguing with people on the phone. Do yourselves a favor. Make arrangements for What If situations. Find someone you trust and make them your POA and them make someone else your secondary POA. And make sure all of your documents are organized and accessible ALL OF THE TIME. Because even when they are, your POA will have to become a PITA and argue with people. And sit on hold, and argue more. And sit on hold, and argue even more. It is a wonderful, delightful process. [sarcasm mode fully enabled]
Dad is doing better today. He was giving me orders, told me to keep people away so he could rest, and was audibly speaking. The nurse told me he is actually breathing on his own a little, which is huge progress. He's exhausted, but we will take any progress we can get.
I'm bone deep tired. Grief is exhausting. I forgot how exhausting. It's even more exhausting when you're in another state. I'm away from home, away from my bed and my own home. And I have no idea when I'll be able to go back. I just don't feel ready. Dad is making progress, but until he's off that ventilator and feeding tube, I'm just not ready.
I'm so grateful to my cousins for opening up their home to my siblings and me. And grateful to everyone for all of their love and support, but this is a process. A painful, dirty, nasty process. And I still can't figure out if taking care of Dad so soon after losing Mom helps a little or is just helping push some of the pain aside. Honestly, I'm a bit scared of what life looks like after all of this. Because none of it will be recognizable again.
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