Chronic Illness

Climb Every Mountain…

I wanted to bring my daughter back home to Colorado with me. She wanted to come for a visit; a change of place, of space, might help her state of mind. Alas, she’s too sick to make the trip.

My bopping around the house, healthy, energetic…normal…I think my presence, my behavior, my living-a-normal-life is too much for my daughter. It’s bad enough that my daughter has to cope with constant nausea. My pathetic and repetitious attempt to seek out the illusory silver lining in the hurricane bearing down on her life is too much for her to stomach.

She can’t see the forest for the trees (whatever that means). She doesn’t see God opening any doors; just the windows closing. She shudders with every slam. Door after door after window after window; the claustrophobia of the prison that’s become her broken down body is best borne in isolation.

She won’t tell me flat out to leave but she’s not asking me to stay longer either. My mom-sense tells me she doesn’t want me around. I don’t take this personally. My heart understands; my head doesn’t. I can go home…for awhile. I can come back.

It’s not that change is difficult…it’s the positive that’s the hill-climb.

Muse: …
Me: Are you there?
Muse: I will wait for you. When you’re ready. I’m here.

Categories: Chronic Illness, Writing | Leave a comment

The Wisdom of Thomas

I was watching Thomas the Tank Engine yesterday. One of the conductors made the following observation.

“Sometimes a change is as good as a rest.”

True. A vacation is really a change – of place, of space, of your state of mind. I note that three weeks racing through Europe was surprisingly restful. Two weeks of devoted attention to my six year old grandson (sans the ‘rents) was joyful, invigorating. A few days on a beach is just plain…sigh…ahhhhh.

Some change is not restful.

Even though one week with my seriously ill daughter is a change of place and space and state of mind, even though this time involves very little physical activity outside the norm, it’s far, very far, distant planets far, from a rest. And if you suggested to my daughter that lying on the couch all day long listening to the click-click-click of the pump pushing “feed” through the tube in her stomach is a “change as good as a rest” – she’d toss you out the door with the power of a steely-eyed look that I’m told she learned from me.

My heart breaks to watch her watch her husband bustle off to work while she must stay home. What about her life, her job, her future.

Negative change is not restful…not by any stretch of the imagination.

Muse: ….
Me: I feel so alone.

Categories: Chronic Illness | Leave a comment

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