Smart Water

I had a discussion with Parker today about the things that are making him feel anxious. Imagine, waking up after two months flat on your back ~ you can't sit up, you can't breath on your own, you have all kinds of drugs dripping into your body keeping you alive, your stomach cut is open under the sheet, covered only by a sponge and cellophane and held together by a piece of plastic sewn inside. You can't get up to go to the bathroom, or even stretch your legs.

Your bed rocks back and forth at will to keep you off your spine (bed sores) and it makes you sea sick, your hands are tied, you haven't had food in almost 2 months, you are so thirsty nothing quenches it and half the time someone else tells you that you can't have water anyway. You can't hold a pen, reading makes your eyes go all jiggly, tv bothers you because it is too loud, your only window is the size of a bathroom mirror and on the other side of it is a brick wall, eliminating the possibility of sunlight. It's enough to make me crumple at just the thought.

Parker is afraid of death, he said. And that they will continue to find more and more things wrong with his body that there is nothing he can do about. I completely understand, but the pain in which he told me these things made me realize he needs someone other than his Mom to talk to.

I have asked Kevin, the Chaplain, to come speak to him. He doesn't wear Chaplain clothes and Parker likes him. Kevin is very gentle, but will tell the truth to the best of his ability. He is compassionate and sympathetic and gentle. I think it will help Parker to process all of this, which in turn will help him to move forward with his recovery.

In talking about this today with Greg (his nurse) and Francis (the Critical Care Unit Manager) I realized that my own progress in dealing with this is blocked by the fact that I still cannot allow myself to think about those two days: April 14th and April 22nd, the two days they told me I was losing him. Just writing it brings me to tears and I shut down.

I know that, in order for me to help Parker get well, I have to be mentally well. I have to deal with those days. I have to do what I always told my kids to do, I have to face those fears head on and begin the process of getting past them. I can't stand the thought. I imagine laying on a floor of some shrink's office, curled up in a ball in the dark, unable to move. Unable to breathe. But I have to do it.

Whenever I walk home at night I allow myself the luxury of releasing the tears that have been building all day. There is a group of homeless people who live in the park across the street. The other day I was walking past, sobbing my eyes out, and I saw them gathered under a tree near the road. One of them said, I really wish someone would help that poor lady .... I'm really tired of hearing her cry!

There was something humorous hidden in that statement and I had to wonder, are the homeless the sane ones and the rest of us crazy?

P.S. The Smart Water picture is because Smart Water makes me smile. A story for another day involving my niece, McKensie and I. Smiles are good for the soul. So there you have it. :-)