Some days are harder than others. The hard days are not just hard to endure, but also hard to blog about. These are the things that most people don’t really want to hear about. Sometimes, I say them anyways because 1) it gives a truer picture as to what we are going through, 2) it is an outlet for me, and 3) I continue to hope that someday my honesty will help someone else who is in a similar boat. But sometimes I just do not feel like talking about the hard days. I get sick of being a bummer.
I was reading an article (by Holly Hilgenberg) in Bitch Magazine about lifestyle blogs. There was a quote that struck me: “It’s not surprising that as a blog becomes more popular, its authenticity becomes more circumscribed. . . . the balance of professionalism with authenticity means less critical discussion, fewer acknowledgements of bad days or insecurities, and less humor.” Now, she is talking about a specific type of blog, the more successful of which get mainstream recognition and even financial sponsorship, so obviously a far cry from what I have going on here. Nonetheless, I found myself feeling grateful that I have a only small collective of people who read this blog. Grateful that the readers are mainly following along out of genuine interest, compassion, and/or support for what Ron and I are going through. Grateful that I have no sponsors to please or to worry about offending. Yet, I do like to please people and the more conscious I become of who is reading, the more I start to self-censor the ugly parts. Even though I am a small scale, just-started blogger, I can feel the weight of that quote. I do not want to give up my authenticity. And I won’t. But sometimes we all need a break from the sad parts.
Suffice to say, the weekend was mainly sad stuff, sad stuff, and more sad stuff. Serious conversations. Tears. Arguments. Saying things we both instantly regretted. I won’t get into the details.
But it was all evened out with some good togetherness time.
I have started taking Ron for walks down the road in his wheelchair . . . with the dogs! This is no easy feat to accomplish alone, but I think Sophie and Ru are gradually getting the hang of it. I have to keep one dog on each side and keep them on a shorter leash so they cannot get tangled up with each other or with the chair. While managing the dogs, I am also pushing Ron and because we live in the country on a 55 mile per hour road, I am also scanning for traffic in front of and behind us and crossing the road when needed to avoid getting hit (there isn’t really a shoulder, just people’s yards and a ditch that would be a pain to get a wheelchair out of). Tonight is the fourth night in a row that Ron has been down the road for a walk. He says it is good for his spirit – good to get out of the house, to feel the sun and wind, to smell the freshly cultivated (not yet fertilized) fields, to see the buds on the trees, and to hear the birds sing-songing overhead.
Yesterday, we had help going down the road because his brother and sister were visiting. Doug pushed the wheelchair and Heather and I each walked a dog. This made things easier for the walk. Ron enjoyed what he said was an excellent visit with his siblings while I took advantage of his company to take Sophie and Ru to the vet for their (way too expensive!) spring check-up and vaccines. I also stole a few moments with my sister-in-law, Carrie, to vent about life, walk the dogs, eat some Taco Bell, and even snooze a little in her living room.
I am not normally one to nap, but Ron and I have not been sleeping much. He, inexplicably, suddenly is unable to sleep. Even with copious amounts of sedating medications. He feels tired, but sleep will not come. His hospice nurse thinks lack of sleep could have a lot to do with his more downcast feelings lately. Insomnia is a frustrating drag. I have not been sleeping because I am such a light sleeper and I am now sleeping in the living room on my new chair bed so I can be closer to him if he needs me. However, every shift in his bed or click of the mouse or candy wrapper thrown in the garbage, I hear it. Plus, he occasionally needs me to get him up to use the bathroom and/or go outside to smoke. Basically, when Ron is awake, so am I. I believe this is why I completely zonked out while talking to Carrie yesterday . . . lack of sleep and that I feel comfortable enough in her presence to just lose consciousness (I can’t do that in front of just anyone).
Tonight, Ron is trying good old fashioned alcohol to see if that will help better than all the pills. He poured himself a healthy shot of scotch, served on the rocks, and is currently outside on the front porch, enjoying the moonlight and a cigarette with his drink before bed. I was outside visiting with him before writing this and can tell he is feeling pretty good, though I worry that he may not be very tired, which could mean more not sleeping for us. Not sleeping poses some significant issues for me . . . in that I do not function very well without it and I very much need to function in many capacities right now. But, no sense stressing over it at just this moment. I will get Ron in and we will see where it goes from there. Hopefully, there will be a cartoon bubble filled with ZZZZZZ’s coming out of our heads in no time.
Today, while Ron was at the hospital being drained, I was running errands. One errand was picking up meds for Ru at the pharmacy located at my place of employment. While there, I ran upstairs to say hello to people, some of whom I have not seen since I began my leave of absence seven weeks ago. It was a weird reunion. I felt out of place and yet completely at home. When I walked by the closed door of my cubicle, I tried not to even look inside. It does not even feel like me anymore. I start to feel like I don’t know who I am. Then I came to work, saw familiar and friendly faces, and felt myself just smile and joke and reassure. This is what I was doing every day when I was working, even as things at home were slowly, then rapidly, deteriorating. I don’t know if it was good or bad, but it is something I miss - being able to just shut it off and go about my business and pretend like I have it under control and that I am a rock star who can just pull it all off single-handedly. The weird part is, I know they all know I don’t have it under control and I can’t do it alone and things are actually quite dire. If for no other reason, they know because of what I write here in this blog. Yet, these kind people still let me smile and joke and laugh and play it off lightly (because I cannot afford to get too serious about things and lose it there). I didn’t get a chance to see everyone, but to those I did see, thank you for making me feel like I am still a part of things. Thanks for making me feel, even if just for a small moment, a little more like me.
When Ron and I got home, my lawn mower was returned. I had given it to Jerry and Jim, who run Cottrell Outdoor Equipment (269-629-9094) in Richland , for spring tune up and repairs to the electrical system. These gentlemen are retired and have very reasonable rates for repairs and tune-ups, plus they sell used lawn equipment out of their shop on M-89. They stand behind their work and encourage you to call them if something happens after they have worked on a machine. I was prepared to pay them the amount we’d agreed upon, but Jerry handed me an invoice tonight that said “FREE – NO CHARGE.” I could not believe the kindness they bestowed on me, especially since my mower took extra time to fix and was declared by Jerry to be “an electrical nightmare” on account of mice-chewed wires and previous repairs that were not quite up to snuff. When they picked the mower up, they had asked questions about me (was I married? did I have kids? how long had I lived in this farm house? what kind of work did I do? etc.). I held back from telling them the whole story. I always do because I worry I will be “playing the cancer card” and unintentionally playing upon people’s sympathies with it. But with all of Jerry’s questions and his professed love for knowing about people, I eventually told him what was going on. Cancer card or no, they pulled through for me and took care of me. Jerry and Jim both assured me that they had been there and knew what I was going through. They said they were happy to help out and Jerry recalled that others had helped him out in the past.
I look forward to the day when I am in a position to help someone who is in my situation. Until I can, I continue to be so appreciative of the ways in which friends, family, hospice staff, and even complete strangers have been coming forward to help me and Ron out.
A good end to a pretty good day. Now, let’s see about those ZZZZZZZZ’s.
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