No exchanges, no returns

I love my parents. When all of this happened to me they dropped their peaceful, retired lives and took over my chaotic, unpredictable mess. I should be the one caring for them, making sure they have what they need, and worrying about their health. Instead, my folks are taking care of me. Those first few weeks when I was drowning in one medical crisis after another must have been agonizing for them. Then, after I awoke, I was unable to care for myself and became their baby again.

Did I mention yet I love my parents? After my release from the hospital, my folks moved back to our family home and we began living together. Initially, life was frantic adjusting to my care. I needed constant assistance. As the months progressed and I grew stronger, I wanted - needed, some independence. Only I was - am still almost completely dependent on my parents. They cook, shop, clean, help me bathe, dress..basically everything. If I need to go anywhere they have to drive. They have given up their lives to nurse me back to health...and I feel like such an ungrateful brat for wanting them to leave me alone sometimes.

I love my Dad. Somewhere along the way he has become a semi-grouchy old man. I tell him that often. When we're driving in the car he constantly talks about the lack of driving skills displayed by the other drivers. I'm being polite. Usually he says stuff such as, "Look at that!! He's stupid - what's he doing? Did you see that? Did you? Stupid SOB drivers. No consideration. If he worked for me, I'd fire him." That's Dad's favorite closing line, "If he worked for me, I'd fire him." If we happen to be anywhere near a driver on the cell phone, Dad will add in a couple of "..damned stupid driver...what are you doing? Make up your mind! Are you gonna drive or yak on the damn phone!! If you worked for me, I'd fire you!!" And as we pass the ignorant soul driving and talking on the cell phone, Dad shoots the person a dirty look with a final parting, "Stupid!!" I've learned to close my eyes and find my happy place. At first I was sucked in by his comments or as he says, "I call it like I see it" philosophy but it was too much. There's so many inconsiderate drivers out there, all jockeying for the chance to piss off my Dad. I'm learning to fall asleep as soon as I get in the car because now Dad is making comments about drivers while we're still in the parking lot. "Get off my tail, buddy. I'm doing the speed limit. Back off. Stupid driver. Lady, who taught you how to drive? Didn't you see me coming? You just don't get in your car and start backing up. If you worked for me..."

I love my Mom. She is the strength for our family, the person we know will stay strong. Don't mess with my Mom if the family is involved. She's scary. I think my medical team has learned that behind her pleasant manner is a cobra. Mom will strike you down with one swift glance, quickly followed by that "tone". Having been on the receiving end of that "tone" many times during my life, I feel sorry for the unsuspecting strangers that run into it. Mom will simply glare and what she wants done, will be done. Mom is always ready with a suggestion or comment. I feel like a kid again. Mom likes to suggest what I should wear. In response, I have become a smartass - but in my mind only. I'm not an idiot. I have to pick my battles carefully. Listen to a 10 minute lecture about wasting money buying magazines or just get a subscription without telling them? I choose B. The coward's way out? You betcha!

I love my parents. The stress of caring for me is manifesting in different ways for each of my folks. There's nothing I can do except remember that these two wonderful people who have given up so much for me, continue to do so without asking for anything in return.

Steady on my feet

If you've read my blog so far, it's not that hard to conclude that things kind of spiraled down for me while I was in the hospital. I pretended to everyone that I was just fine with all that had happened. It's hard to explain but somehow I ended up being the one comforting those around me. I felt guilty if I complained or showed sadness. I made it my responsibility to make others feel good; friends, family - even the hospital staff. No one was safe from my brand of perky charm.

I planned my breakdowns for when I would be alone, which is difficult in a hospital but if you get the routine down, simple. I figured out that the forty-five minutes between staff changes was the perfect opportunity to cry until the snot ran down so fast from my nose I couldn't keep up.

Anger has always been an acceptable emotion in my family. As fast as we boil, we are able to calm down. My mother should win an award for her vocal, yet in effect, silent treatment. Depression, however, is tolerated only for a short period. It's not a productive emotion, therefore, unacceptable. It was suggested at one point that I "pick a date" and "get over it by then." The comment was meant as positive goal setting and not a criticism, at least that's what I tell myself. I don't believe I'm depressed in the clinical sense but I have moments of doubt about my health and life.

Whenever I meet a new medical person who will be treating me, I need to give a synopsis of my medical history. It has become so routine that I spout my list of injuries/infections/ailments without taking a breath. More often than not, the response I receive is, "...you are a very strong person...incredible will...strong emotional backbone..." Uh huh. The thing is, I don't think so. I survive because I have to - no such luxury as falling down in a hissy fit, wailing about the unfairness of it all. I get it. What happened to me is horrible. Or, in terms I prefer, this sucks something awful. Some people are able to skate through life with nary a worry. I'm not one of those people. I've been told more than once that, "you're never given more than you can handle." Phht, let me tell you something, I've been given a load of crap. I might need a mental bulldozer to drive through it all but I handle it.

At least my sense of humor is returning. I'm able to laugh at the absurdity of my situation once again. I was out with my girlfriends last week. We were headed to lunch and I was yabbering away while being pushed - or thought I was being pushed. It wasn't until I heard one of them laughing and asking where I was going that I realized I was talking to no one and rolling down a slight embankment, straight towards an oncoming car.

I'm stronger. I don't feel like the earth is constantly shifting beneath me anymore. While the uncertainty of my situation is still present, it isn't my primary focus. I'm not drifting anymore. I found solid ground.