Not quite the same as letting “sleeping dogs lie,” but it is what I have been doing since Sunday, and today is Wednesday. There are four screwdrivers lying on my living room floor. I had them on a table Sunday morning while putting together a new shop vac. Then Sunday night I dropped them on the floor because I needed the table for something else, and there they lie.
Monday morning I actually stooped over to pick them up, but something else caught my eye. I didn’t look at them again until Tuesday night. They angered me. Why were they still there, reminding me of my laziness and/or apathy towards taking charge of my life? Why don’t I pick them up so I can stop feeling overwhelmed?
Anger woke me up at 5:22 this morning. I was angry because my house is in disarray and I am not doing anything to straighten it up.
I was also angry because my mom is getting new carpet and now I have to go up and help her box up everything in her bookcases, take off all her bedding, remove all her lamps, disconnect all electronics, etc. The apartment complex has sent a letter along with a long list of instructions of what needs to be done before they will replace the carpet. If you do not meet every requirement, you will not receive your carpet. She is so excited about getting new carpet, she feels as if it will change her life. I am angry because I know new carpet is not going to change my mother’s life. It will make her happy, but her mind will still fail her most days, and she will still need to walk with her walker.
I am angry because I feel overwhelmed dealing with my mom and being a single mother while still adjusting to being without Raymond. Why couldn’t mom have had a few more good years before starting to show signs of strokes, and alzheimer's? I am angry because I need time to adjust before dealing with my mom’s issues, and there is no time.
So here I am angry about screwdrivers on the floor, new carpet, and pretty much just about everything and I have to wonder why I am really angry. Am I really angry at these things or am I reaching another stage of grief and refusing to recognize it. A widow at church asks me every time she sees me “are you angry yet?” I always say “no.” But maybe I am. Maybe I am refusing to admit the anger because how could I possibly be angry at Raymond for dying.
I can’t be angry at Raymond for dying. He did everything he could to stay here with us. He suffered unbelievable pain. He suffered from exhaustion. He had trouble breathing. He had to intermittent cath and was on a bowel program. He had horrible bouts of phantom pain. His amputation was so high on his hip that it was impractical to even think about a prosthetic leg. He wasn’t able to walk and run with his boys, or ride a bike. He had to give up so much that he loved, so his suffering was more than physical it was mental too. So how can I be angry with him for dying? He hung on for longer than the doctors ever expected. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave us. I was the one that sat at his side and told him it was okay to let go, he didn’t have to suffer any more. I am the one that said I loved him and then said it was okay for him to die.
So maybe I am angry with myself. Maybe I’m angry because I told him it was okay to die. Maybe in my mind I think he would still be here with me if I hadn’t told him it was okay to let go. Rationally I know that his body had given out, even if his spirit had not, and that he was suffering only for us at the end, and to wish him still here is selfish, but the question is still there in my mind.
I am angry. I need to deal with the anger, but I have to find a way to deal with it where I don’t blame Raymond. As my friend said this morning, I am not angry with Raymond, I am angry with the situation, and that my dreams of a long life with the man I loved are gone. She is probably right. I always dreamed of at least 50 years, and when Raymond got sick I prayed for 25. We didn’t make it to 25. We almost made it to 24 ½, but we didn’t make it to 25.
So here it is Wednesday night. I was able to box up 2 bookcases at mom’s today, but there is still so much to do. I’m still angry, and I’m still letting dropped screwdrivers lie.
3 comments:
I get Angry Too.
Yesterday was the 14th anniversary of my father’s death and I have not completely resolved my regrets for things that I didn’t say, but wish I had.
My Father called the house Sunday after we got back from Church, to say his last goodbye. We had moved from Texas to Upstate New York a few years earlier and I had tried to make it back to Texas as often as I could to see my mom and dad. They both had cancer, but my dad had the worst of it for the previous couple years. He was a big man at 6’3”, but now he was rail thin. Radiation and Chemo had taken their toll.
I think we all knew the end was coming because we saw it and still, just kind of ignored it. He called because he knew the end was near and he felt like it was time. I struggled to grasp what was going on. The situation was so surreal. I told dad that he had better not die until I could get down there!
I arrived on Monday. My dad was in so much pain that the slightest movement, bump, or jar was excruciating. I have never been that close to pain. I could literally feel it as well. When I drove my dad to the pain specialist I had to go so very slow, every bump and pot hole… At one point an impatient person behind us honked and I just ignored them thinking you just have no clue. I was angry!
My dad went in to Presbyterian, Dallas early Thursday morning to have a morphine spinal inserted because the pain was too much. That afternoon and evening I had the opportunity to tell him everything I wanted him to know. The afternoon was sunny and my dad wanted to be wheeled outside. As I tried to get him from the hospital bed to the wheel chair he lost consciousness so the nurse and I lifted him back into the bed. Later I would learn that at the time the nurse thought he was going to die right then. I wish she had shared that before he was gone. I was angry.
My mom and I went to grab some dinner that evening and when we came back he was gone.
I wish I had told him that I loved him, just one more time. I wish I told him that it was ok to let go. That it was OK to die. There are so many things I wish I had said, wish I had done. I am angry at myself!
About a month later, I got a great job back in Texas and I had great plans to come back and be there for my mom. I think she was really happy that the family (grandkids) was coming back to Texas. I drove back over the 4th of July weekend. When I arrived on Monday the 5th my mom was in Medical City. She had become incoherent and slipped into a coma Sunday evening. I went straight from the road to her hospital room. My sister and a neighbor of my mom were there with her. I stayed for a few hours and then went to get showered up and unload the car. I got the call before I got back that she was gone.
There are so many things I wish I could have told her, so many things I wish I could have done.
I wish someone had told me what to expect, told me what happens. I felt so powerless, so stupid. I felt so out of control. It all felt so cold and clinical. I wish I had met that special nurse or caregiver, but now I know. Now that it’s too late, I know.
This is the first time I have written any of this down and I thank you for your pain and suffering and your example. When I grieved for you and the boys, I grieved for myself as well.
I talk to my wife about it all, but there IS something liberating about writing things out. I would have posted this yesterday, but it was all harder than I thought and a bit slower to come out.
I am posting this here because I have so much love and respect for you and your family and if there is anyone that could appreciate the feelings, I thought of you. I have several blogs but, I pretty much keep them random and anonymous like my private journal.
Thank you Cheryl. I think you guys are gonna be OK.
Mathew
Mathew,
WOW. Your comment really moved me.
I do understand your anger.
My dad did not want anyone with him when he died. We had known for years that he did not want to be seen after he died. When the doctors told my mom that it would just be a few days, she called and told me not to come. My mom stayed with him until he sent her away. He died around three in the morning, all alone in his nursing home/rehab room.
I had such anger that I was denied the chance to comfort him, hold his hand, whisper how much I loved him as he died, I thought it was so selfish of him. I was angry that he was alone when he died. I have despaired over it for years, even though I know it was his wishes. I have had nightmares about him reaching out as he died wanting to touch someone he loved, only no one was there. Rationally, I know that probably did not happen, but emotionally it tears me up inside.
My dad's dying alone was part of what fueled me to be there when Raymond died. Soon after Raymond came home in hospice care a friend came to be with him and encouraged me to go out for a bit. Raymond was stable and I decided to go to the grocery with a short list. I barely made it out of the store. I had a horrible panic attack. I couldn't breathe. I was terrified Raymond would die without me there holding his hand. I seldom left the house after that day. Sometimes I would walk among my rose beds while the hospice aide was here taking care of Raymond. I only took a shower if someone else was with Raymond. In my heart I know Raymond would have forgiven me if I wasn't with him at the end, but I also knew that I would not forgive myself.
Sometimes I get angry because I never crawled up into the hospital bed with Raymond to hold him in the end. I was afraid to do that. He was in so much pain. We were down to only one method of delivering the pain meds and it was so easy to dislodge the subcutaneous needle. So in my head I know that it was as it had to be, but it was not enough.
I get angry with myself because I get angry over the death of my father and Raymond. I know each suffered. I know that they were tired of their suffering. I know that my wanting them to be here with us is selfish, but I still get angry.
Raymond and I were lucky to have the wonderful hospice care that he received. It is so much easier when you are dealing with professionals that are there to make it easier for a person to die, and to help the loved ones through the dying process. They answered all my questions, told me what to watch for when the end was near, and told it to me straight nothing held back, because that is what I asked them to do. Of course, each person's death is different and as prepared as I was, I wasn't prepared for the reality. Bless our pastor, and one of our good friends for staying with me and the boys through it. Sometimes I worry that I gave them nightmares for life.
You were lucky enough to get a chance to see your parents one last time while they were still alive, all to often people do not get that opportunity. Even though you feel you didn't get a chance to say enough, and do enough, you really did. You came back when your dad needed you. You made your mother happy with the thought of you coming back to Texas.
As much time as I spent with Raymond, and as many times as I told him how much I loved him, it wasn't enough times to heal me. .
I still share my I love you's and thoughts with Raymond. There are days I think he is probably shouting "enough already, give me some peace!" It helps me. I tell him it helps me. I tell him that he left me here to deal with everything on my own, so now he has to listen, but he can talk back anytime he wants.
Mathew, I encourage you to keep writing about your anger. If you think you still have things to say to your mom and dad, then write or type letters to them, even if you destroy or delete them after writing them. It helps. Sometimes the thoughts just need to be expressed.
Cheryl
Thanks for your words and understanding.
It's funny how we are able to open ourselves up to people when there is this space between us. I can't imagine a circumstance where this would happen as freely face to face.
There are positive aspects to this digital age we live in.
There is so much compassion and healing available from the people around us. The hard part is letting others in without making ourselves too vulnerable.
I am sorry about your father. We learn and grow. I know what I have learned will help me do things differently if/when I face this again. That gives me some solice.
You mentioned your pastor in another message and I have to agree with you. He is a special man. He has a gift and we are the blessed beneficiaries.
I started to write my mom a letter many years ago and I couldn't get very far. Mostly I am just angry with myself. The best thing I can think of to do about that is to be a better person to the ones around me.
Good night and thanks again for your kind words.
Mathew
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