The Worst Blogger in the World

I am, undoubtedly, the most neglectful, most inconsistent and whiniest blogger ever. The smallest setback can make me sit back and howl mournfully at the injustice of it all and get so wrapped up in the fabulous pity party I've thrown for myself that I bury myself in a dark hole with my butt sticking out, thinking no one can see my misery. But it shows. It is about as invisible to others as a circus parade.

I know this, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to hide under my bed and pretend no one knows I'm there.

Maybe you already know that I've been a mostly bed-bound paraplegic for the past four years, due to a bout of meningitis in 2010. And maybe you know that my precious 9 year old daughter succumbed to spinal cancer about a year later. Her daddy, my ex, watches out for me as best he can, but he is a very busy man, and his wife, understandably, is not happy that he spends so much time with me. She's a lovely person with the patience of a saint for not interfering very much with us. But I'm not his responsibility, really, and I will need help and attention until I die. I'm only 65 now, and longevity runs in both sides of my family. What a horrible idea, the thought of living like this until I'm 80 or 90. 

Last visit, my doctor told me that the orthopedic surgery which I must have in order to straighten my legs is very dangerous and risky, more so because my blood sugar is mostly out of control, because I am a diabetic. I told him I was willing to take the risk and he said, "Ah, but will you be able to find a surgeon who is willing to take the risk?"

That hadn't occurred to me. It suddenly seemed impossible that I'd be able to get the surgery. I mean, nobody has slammed that door in my face yet, but it seems likely that they will.

It's like this. For the past four years I've been like someone who has fallen into a raging river but has managed to grab onto a tree root, the hope that I will someday regain some independence, so that I won't be helplessly swept away by my circumstances. Now I wonder, should I give up and let go so that I'm at the mercy of my helplessness, or should I learn, by some miracle, how to keep my head above water? Letting go is easiest. I don't mean suicide, though that's a tempting end to my misery. But it's just not on the agenda right now.

I have no idea how to cope with this dilemma. Continuing as I have been for the past four years is unacceptable. But I haven't quite reached the point where I'm not willing or just simply am unable to hang onto that tree root anymore.

Frankly, the past four years have exhausted me, physically and emotionally. I'm so awfully tired of being shut up in a nursing home, spending most of my time alone, almost as if I'm in solitary confinement. I'm weary of being helpless and having only a miniscule amount of independence. Oh, I can brush my hair, but somebody moved the bag it's hidden in across the room where I can't reach it. Hell, I can't even see it. I'd keep my brush on my table, nearby, but after having four brushes stolen, I learned to hide it.

I have to face the fact that my situation is probably going to be like this for the rest of my life. Without the orthopedic surgery, there is no other option except to remove myself from reality. And I believe that if I'm forced to live like this for many more years, that will happen. I would want it to. Sometimes in my dreams I manage to make it happen. This morning when I woke up I was in bed at my parents' house. I could hear the tv, and they were talking, so I knew they were in the living room, each in their recliner, dad probably watching a golf game and mom reading a book. It was so real, so safe, so reassuring.  But then two of the aides came in and bounced me around, turning me from one side to the other. I couldn't sleep through that, so I opened my eyes and gradually realized where I really was. If only I could have stayed asleep, or had a waking dream.

This is prison. This is hell. This is my reality and my future. If only I could die in dignity with someone I love holding and comforting me. But that won't happen. I will doubtless be alone, but hopefully Lyra's spirit will greet me and guide me back Home where I can recover. This life has been a rough one, overall. I'm ready for a rest.

Dream on, friends. No matter how bad it gets, there is an end to that, and then you can rest. Beyond this life awaits beauty, joy, comfort and boundless love. My spirit yearns for that and, one day, I will go there. See you there one of these days.

Love you all. Peace.