I need my own elephant. I just realized that this morning. Someone to listen to all the complaining in my head -- and all those thoughts that were dangerously close to coming out my mouth this morning. I didn't get out of bed when the doctors made the rounds this morning. (Although when I looked at the clock it was still 6:37 a.m.! Don't ENT residents ever sleep?) Neurosurgery came by shortly after that. They didn't even check Brendan--he was sleeping and they said they wouldn't wake him. I didn't offer to wake him for them. I didn't bother getting up when the nurses changed shifts and the night nurse brought in the day nurse for morning checks. I just lay there in bed looking at the ceiling trying to figure out what was going on. Then I recognized what it was. The two week mark.
When Shaun was in law school in Virginia, we were able to come home to Utah most Christmas breaks and summer breaks. I often found that I would get anxious and grumpy about two weeks into the "vacation." I would realize it was either time to go home to Virginia, or time to unpack the suitcases and settle in for awhile. Once I recognized what was going on I was usually ok.
This morning I realized it was time to unpack the suitcases. But I don't want to. I don't want to stay here indefinitely. I don't want to think about rehab, radiation, and chemotherapy. And neither does Brendan. Last night we talked about how much he doesn't want to lose his hair.
So this morning, I won't wake him up right now. With the packs out of his sinuses I can hear the air rattle around in that big empty space that used to be filled with his septum and sinus cavities. He's sleeping peacefully, and I won't wake him yet. Rehab starts today. And they will take the drain out of his head. He's worried about that one, and the neurosurgery fellow didn't give him much comfort that it would slide right out like the one in his back. So I'll just let him sleep a little longer. I'll have my quiet cry, then we'll start counting calories again and charting intake and output on the white board. And I'll start to unpack. . .
My heart hurts for all you ALL have to go through, wish I could reach in and take all the pain, stress, and worry away. I love you.
ReplyDeleteIt's always darkest before the dawn. Hang in there Kerry. Dawn is coming. Sharon B.
ReplyDeleteHugs. Many hugs. Thank you for being honest and genuine. Out love and prayers are with you. Hold Hugo! It's good to just hold something tangible. Always sending prayers.
ReplyDeleteOh Kerry, I am like Shanda in that I wish I could absorb some of this pain and stress. I am glad you are being honest in your blog. You and Shawn have been so extraordinary with how you have handled all of this, but you soon realize you can't be "up" and "postive" all of the time. It is ok. Everyone needs to see you are human. :)
ReplyDeleteI have 2 very good ears even though I am not really good for alot of other things since my illness. I would always be available to listen and reflect and remind you, you are amazing.
So he is going to be kept there until he is ready for chemo and radiation and then all the way through treatment? Is Shawn going back and forth? How many kids are at home? What can we do here in Paradise? Do you have family members who can come in and give you a night and a day or so off? Sorry for so many questions.
Have the social workers talked to you about "Caring for the Caregiver" you? It is super important you don't try to do everything by yourself. Since he is improving and stable, perhaps someone else can come and stay while you get away.
Don't you find the blog a bit therapeutic? We all appreciate what a wonderful job you are doing giving us a glimpse into your lives and keeping us up to date on Charlie.
Linda