Friday, July 15, 2011


"Be like a duck. Calm on the surface, but always paddling like the dickens underneath." 

 -- Michael Caine



It's been 11 days since the fall.   
I feel raw.  As if I've been stretched one to many times like pulled taffy.   There isn't a single thing I do, or a quiet place to go where I don't think of, or worse- feel, an important life is being drained away from us.   There have been several terrible days and only a few which have glimmered with hope.  We presently float in the murky place of wait-and-see...





The difficult process of watching an injured, or sick, loved one who neither leans towards recovery or towards death is simply awful.  There is no resolution.  Ahh, well, yes, there is resolution at some point- History always proves this to be true, but when painful moments stretch in to hours, and those hours stretch into days, and then into weeks...it certainly feels as if there is no end in sight.
   

Trying to be "Sunny"- trying to look at each step in this process as a gift of sorts is a great challenge, but not without reward.   Every minute "Pawpaw" lives and is awake is another moment to cherish him in his presence.   Yet our hope for recovery is tainted by our fear of losing him.  We will lose him at some point.  The time we have now as we wait to see how he responds to the treatment sort of gives us space to "get prepared"- but anyone who has ever lost a loved one will tell you this isn't really true.   Death still takes one's breath away no matter how far ahead you see him coming. 
  

Everyday I do find something to be thankful for.  I continually see my mother in law gaining confidence in her role as a hands-on caregiver.   Her resolve to ask questions and expect answers from Dr's shows a new form of courage I have never seen in her.   She is well known for quickly surrendering any and all authority when a bigger (or more vibrant) person walks in the room- which has always bothered me.  She is learning how to be a protector.  


I'm learning how to take a step back and let other people in her network provide her with the extra support she needs.   A friend of mine was pointing out my "Savior" complex (he and I both suffer with this) and how important it was for me not to jump in take over simply because I was more capable.  It would be wrong of me to carry every baby bird around as it was learning to fly!   Simply because I CAN do a thing doesn't mean I SHOULD.    
 

It's always about finding balance with me, isn't it?  


A friend of the family has invited my daughter and I to go to the Outer Banks with them.  The condo is paid for and the occupants who were supposed to go had to back out.  At this moment I am leaning towards taking the generous offer and leaving on Monday for the unspoiled island coastline near Virginia.   I feel a little guilty for leaving (mom in law is staying with us, but is at the hospital every day)- but everyone says I should go.   In the event Pawpaw takes a turn for 
the worse I can drive home immediately.  


I can be a little duck on the water- and paddle back if the need arises.  


  





  

9 comments:

J Cosmo Newbery said...

Distant thoughts, it is obviously not easy for you.

tinkerbell the bipolar faerie said...

Ah, it is difficult to take a step back when all we want to do is caretake the situation and people around us ... it sounds like you could use the serenity of the Outer Banks ....

Skunkfeathers said...

*Hug* and hang in there, Mayden.

Bad Bob said...

Be thankful for the good years with Pawpaw. During the reasonable times he has now, you can relive some of those and say some of the things you always wanted to but put them off.
I miss my dad and wish I had been able to spend some time with him as he went suddenly.
Hang in there fair Mayden and do not feel guilty about going to the outer banks. You can't put your life entirely on hold.

foam said...

"The difficult process of watching an injured, or sick, loved one who neither leans towards recovery or towards death is simply awful. "
I so get this. I'm glad you went to the Outer Banks.
xxx

X. Dell said...

Like my dad always says, there's always a resolution, sooner or later. We might not like it, but it will come.

I think you're doing the right thing by treasuring the time you have with Pawpaw. True, there could be tragedy down the road. But that's always been the case. And I'm pretty sure that he appreciates it that you're with him in flesh or in spirit.

If it's any comfort, then realize that you yourself (as most of us) will be in this situation one day (hopefully eighty years or so from now). How would you want your family to react to your condition?

In other words, if you put yourself in his shoes, you might be able to cut yourself some slack.

My best to him, and to you, always of course.

Mayden' s Voyage said...

Cosmo- hugs and thank you. Better days are coming- they always do ♥

Roxanne, yes- you are absolutely right. The trip was what I needed and I'm glad I went!

Hugs Skunk- you are the best :)

Bob- your words are wise and I will heed them. The last few days Pawpaw was in the hospital I was able to spend some time with him. He is a dear man and I feel very blessed to know him. What ever moments we have with him in the future I will treasure.

Love to you Foamy- I knew you would "get it". It's been a difficult path, and yet I'm so thankful for friends and family who understand. You are one of those.

X- you make a beautiful point about me being in his shoes and what would I want from my family. I was with him moments after he fell, I went with him to the ER and stayed 2 nights with him so mom could sleep. Mom stayed with us while tending to him in the hospital- but when she was at my house there were good meals, hot showers, and a nice place to sleep. I held her when she cried, asked hard questions of the Dr's...prayed. You are right. I did all that I could do and with a tender heart. I could not ask for more from anyone, but I honestly hadn't thought of it that way. Thank you ♥

Have Myelin? said...

I have been out of touch. I am sorry.

I remember those days of watching my daughter slip away...each minute felt like hours as well as split seconds.

Cherish your time with him and take care of yourself too. I know there is nothing I can do for you but I am thinking of you....

Anonymous said...

c,
"The difficult process of watching an injured, or sick, loved one who neither leans towards recovery or towards death is simply awful. There is no resolution. Ahh, well, yes, there is resolution at some point- History always proves this to be true, but when painful moments stretch in to hours, and those hours stretch into days, and then into weeks...it certainly feels as if there is no end in sight. Trying to be "Sunny"- trying to look at each step in this process as a gift of sorts is a great challenge, but not without reward."

Beautiful.
hope you are well.

Chesca