There is a slow decline in the adrenaline producing worry that has occurred. It is a deep endless pit of emotion that begins to lap over you. wave after wave… Since memorial day, things have mostly been a high paced blur. Their wasn’t time to do more than just move from doctor to doctor. First surgery, then recovery, then crisis after crisis, now the in between. Well, the in between has a way of settling its heavy fog all around you. As I have said before. This is a difficult time. Facts are based on opinion about what reality is each day. The basis for operating is swept away at a moments notice. A mini crisis may occur. This is very difficult. You see, the world can stop in a moment. But, as that has become more normal, something else happens. There is the trauma that occurred earlier this summer that has a way of creeping into your free moments.
I simply can not begin to explain the 4 days with absolutely no sleep that occurred starting memorial day, or the emotion that was suppressed in every moment. The moments that occurred there were horrific moments of reckoning that occurred during intense moments of fear. Wave after wave of understanding that i could be spending the last evening with my son alive before i kiss his head goodbye on his way to surgery. Moments of understanding that in his debilitated condition, appeasing his whim was not an annoyance, but a priority of the highest order. A realization that this diagnosis was in some ways history repeating itself. Maybe slowly…but, a child might die today. My child. Death is a hard burden to carry in the wrong order of things. A child is never expected to die so young. A third son might die. My three musketeers. My boys, I imagine them in my mind. Noah 12, John 4, James 3….. Yes, my boys, all of them lined up in debauchery. I would have enjoyed the humor of the mess. I prayed, “Dear God, if it is your will to take my son, I understand.” “Dear God, if you are trying to hone something in me, please show me the lesson.” “Dear God, I understand what death looks like, I am ok with that, but, could you please not?” “Dear God, please stop this pain” “Dear God, please have mercy on my innocent child. He is your son” “Dear God, He is another of my sons and I do not want him to die. Please don’t take him from me. I simply can not bury another child. Please don’t choose me to be the story behind another christian hymn. Please do not purpose me for suffering and struggle again. Please have mercy on my exhausted soul.”
I totally skipped a couple of stages of grief. I moved right to bargaining and acceptance. A whipped dog doesn’t bite back. Really. I have done this loss thing before. A few times…. now the chickens have come home to roost. What shall I do? Trauma is something I have dealt with before, on a long-term basis. I am tired….very tired….The waves of grief that are lapping over me now are hard to fight. There is simply no way to avoid working through what the brain requires of the heart to let go… There is work to be done in order to be ok. But, I do not have time for that and it is so complicated. As depression sets in, I have to choose an action that will insure my coping ability and long-term mental agility. my new prayer is “God please show me a way.” “Dear God, Please show me where my feet should go. I need direction and conformation.”
Love Always, Faith