About a half-hour from the first request, I threw up. Five minutes after that, the nurse showed up and gave me the Zofran. It was too late to stop me from throwing up, but I took it anyway, just in case I wasn't finished. I've been through this routine before, many times. I had some egg-drop soup, which almost also settles my stomach and I'm feeling quasi-good now.
You didn't really didn't need to know all that, but I decided to subject you to it, anyway. It's part of the challenge of this journey and it's usually a hint toward having one of my frequent UTIs. I never get tested for them until something else goes wrong, but at least the doctor is quicker on the uptake than he used to be. Not long ago, he didn't give orders for treatment for more than 5 weeks. Then, when my kidneys started shutting down, the nurse took one look at me and said, "You're going to the hospital!" That was the day after I had asked to go and the doctor said no. I was a sick puppy and spent a week in the hospital getting intravenous antibiotics and liquids. It doesn't take nearly as long now to get his attention.
I got some awful news this week. I'm going to quote my Facebook status here that I posted, explaining it. I was shattered at the time and my post reflects that. But don't worry. I've had some time to adjust to it and I feel better now.
"I'm trying to cope with the news that I will never be able to sit in a regular wheelchair again because my spine is so twisted due to my legs being so contracted. According to the pt lady, in order to sit in a wheelchair that I am able to control, one would have to be made for me. That could cost thousands of dollars and isn't likely to happen. So that means I'll never be able to have any control over where I go. Zero independence, with no hope of having any, ever. I will be up in a special chair sometime soon, but will have to be pushed by someone else. That means some super-busy aide will grudgingly park me somewhere, probably wherever is easiest for her, then leave me there like a lump. God, that makes me feel old and helpless. I had hoped, and was willing to work my ass off in PT so I could eventually go into an assisted living facility where they allow pets and could rescue an older snugglewuggums of a cat. Doesn't look like that can happen now.
I'm so tired of losing... My house, my husband, my ability to walk, my child, my writing job, all my belongings, Josi to Oregon and Michael to Maryland where I can never see them or hug them, and now the tiny hopes and dreams I'd convinced myself I still had that made life worth living. I hate living in a nursing home. I hate my life.
I don't have the energy or interest to write in my blog tonight. Sorry. It'll be a rerun of one of my old columns."
I emailed this to my therapist because I was so upset that I didn't want to say it out loud and explain everything again at our session the next day. The subject line said, "From my status on Facebook, for tomorrow. Don't worry. Not suicidal. Just very sad and defeated."
This is kind of funny. Even though i said "not suicidal" in the subject line, he didn't believe me. Can't blame him. I was suicidal for a long time and my perspective toward suicide has only changed recently. So he walked into my room yesterday and, before he even sat down, he said, rather forcefully, "SO.... Are you ready to see what's on the "other side" now?! And kind of glared at me, like he was daring me to say yes.
He startled me. I wasn't expecting that. My eyes got pretty wide and I said, "No! I'm not finished here yet."
He asked me again, less forcefully, more like he was skeptical of my answer. And he was more relaxed. I told him, "No, I'm not suicidal. I still have things to do."
So he got out the folding chair and sat down in it. I added, as a statement, not a question, "You got my email. I DID say I wasn't suicidal in the subject line."
He said, in a tone of voice I had trouble interpreting, "Yes. I did. That's the only reason I read it."
Oh, dear. I could interpret it then. It sounded like restrained anger, frustration, and a smidgen of relief. I'm not easy on therapists. I scared one so badly he started shouting at me. And he was a very calm person. That was when I'd shown him the places I'd cut myself. Was a long time ago and I never cut mysef again. He frightened the bejabbers out of me. I couldn't even talk. I just got up and left. He certainly got my attention.
Just in case my current therapist thinks that might work on me now, I've been through a decade-long abusive relationship since then, and would probably just yell back then start crying. He's done a pretty good job of helping me gain self-confidence, so I'd probably get mad, too, at both of us. But I know he won't do that. I trust him to do what's best. And he's very good at knowing what that is.
This has been a long entry, so to wrap it up, I just want to say this: I'm not, no way, no how, suicidal. Life interests me and I know I still have things to do and to learn before I go to spirit. I recognize that I have enough strength to handle disappointing news, though it may throw me for a loop at first. I have amazing friends and family. I owe my therapist an apology for repeatedly worrying and/or scaring him and gratefulness for his patience.
I'm even almost happy again. Two steps forward, a hundred steps back, and 75 forward again. I'll get to where I'm going, eventually. I just wish this road I'm on would stop getting steeper and start leveling off.
This is a photo that represents my happy place, where I go when life is unbearable. Since Lyra died, she's waiting on the porch for me. We build a fire in the fireplace, roast hot dogs, then marshmallows over it at twilight. During the days we go on hikes. It's always the beginning of autumn, so we need light jackets. Sometimes we play games, sometimes just sit on the porch to listen quietly to birds sing and squirrels chittering angrily at each other. Sometimes we see rabbits or deer out in front. Before bedtime, we read -- sometimes to each other, sometimes silently. Sometimes Lyra is a child, sometimes a young lady a little taller than I am, still with her radiant smile. I can never stay long, but am peaceful when I have to go. After I've gone to spirit, I will be able to go there whenever I want. But I can do that, already, just by thinking about it.
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