We're all in different or similar spots. Carol and I have recently put our spouses into a home and a few days ago she wrote 'as though he never was'. I realized that was exactly what it's like. As though the mind has formed a cocoon so we can exist insulated from the reality in the moment. When the reality of the harsh and powerful things that are happening to them and us are here then we feel that - and then the mind seals that up for a while and allows us to live for a while 'as though they never were'. Over time hopefully we assimilate and can feel all the things at once without being overcome or strongly affected.
How much grief is enough? Or perhaps how much grief is too much? I am currently in a multi-tiered storm like multiple threads of bad things happening simultaneously:
1. Anguish that I gave up and put her there 2. Terror that it won't work out and if they can't do it, how can I? 3. Now that I'm not up to my neck every minute, the emotions of my feelings for her suffering this 4. Finally some consideration and even tenderness for myself and what I have lost. 5. The brutal starkness of being completely alone (even though I don't bore easily) 6. The alienation of the normality of other's lives and relationships (want to come for dinner? not really) 7. The nagging unanswerable questions about what I'm about in my future 8. The things all this has done to how I used to look at life, think, and feel. 9. The guilt that I get to live and she does not. I get to laugh. I get to enjoy my food.
My wife has not been home now for 59 days. I am still well inside the impact of these things including working with them in the NH and watching her further deteriorate. My favourite nephew turned me down as POA but my second choice agreed (in case I die before she does). She gets restrained in a wheelchair or she just won't stop wearing herself out. I have to decide resusitation issues. I need to have a funeral home picked out and make arrangements. It may be months it may be years.
I have also spent time thinking, and I realize that as in all things and as it always was, it's up to me to overcome. If I had gone down more deeply when my first love dumped me (I was hit hard and dream of her to this day), I never would have been open to Dianne who is the best thing that has happened to me. In that very same way I must overcome again and come around to allowing what is, to be what it is.
In my mind is a resolve just days old that not only must I feel the pain and the love to the full extent that they hit me; but, also that I must begin to end the chatter about living my life and begin to enter it with the fullness of my entire being. Just as I did when I opened to Dianne.
Some friends have said I shouldn't wait but be open to new relationships and I know myself here now. First I fall in love. If that happens then I'm open not the other way around although that can work. No, I have my overactive imagination on a short leash. This is my time. And for the first time in my life I am free to look around and figure out who I want to be and what I want to do.
How much grief is too much? When I come around to the same thing again and again in the same way. Then I know I am stuck and need to give myself a real push - not just a pep talk.
The fantastic creature I have lived with all my life will soon be no more. I am inside a swirling circle of many powerful and real things all hitting together each with serious force. Like all the serious things that have faced us, either we defeat it or it defeats us. Exactly like that moment when the embryonic fluid leaves your lungs and you get that first, sharp lungful of inflammable oxygen after being literally pushed out of the warmth and comfort of the womb. Ok, not exactly.
Life has always been that we don't take the chance, we don't believe the thing, we don't believe in ourselves, we aren't willing or willing enough. That has never changed in my life. Overcome or be overcome.
The director talked to me today about joining their process improvement committee at the nursing home. Come to papa because I've been getting ready for where the door opens. Doors always open and when they do only people who see them see them. That always has been true. It always will be true.
I'm so sorry kiddo. It's ending for you. But you tag along with me. I've got you right here and you're not going anywhere inside except along for the ride with me.
Is there such a thing as too much grief? Yes. There comes a point somewhere where the truth is we have been stopped by the events in our life. That could have happened and might happen anywhere. We might or might not agree that is adding a second tragedy to one that already exists. So I authorize myself to live this life I have fully - just as soon as I get up off the floor.
I’ve Caregiven DH almost 24 years (March 14, 1988). Except for the 3 weeks when he was Dxd with VaD in 2006 and since Jan. 15, 2012 when he went to the Hospital and is now Placed, I did it at home. I did get in-home help starting in 2006(8 hrs. a week) which was slowly increased to 16 during the later part of last year. DH always asked me not to Place him, and my answer was that I believed being at home was the best place for him, but if his condition got really bad, or mine got worse, or some other bad thing happened, I wouldn’t have a choice. I would do what was best for him. We were approaching that point. I had him on 2 NH waiting lists. I discovered a way to get him Placed in an ALF. Our Mortgage, underwater, had to be dealt with. I’d have to find an accessible apartment. We talked, often. He knew the plans. He wasn’t happy about them but he did get it. I was prepared, and I think the plans would have been way easier to deal with than what happened. First there was a postponement in his going to the ALF, because of the behaviors around his cigarette smoking, still going on. Then, in a flash of anger (I think a TIA in the area where his Mental Illness rules) there was an altercation and I had the Police take him to the Hospital. I wasn’t hurt, but could have been, badly. Treatment begun to assess and do med changes was then hijacked by new problems—exacerbated congestive heart failure (CHF). On January 30th , just 2 ½ hours before he was to be transferred to a NH I could not get to, the one I’d hoped he’d go to originally, called with an opening. They’re here in town. I signed him in Jan.31st. All the trauma and turmoil, plus the House now in Short Sale, and needing to find an apartment for me—alone—have thrown all my efforts to be mentally and emotional prepared out the window. I knew it’d be hard. I was ready for that. I wasn’t ready for Auditory memories—he’d often call my name, just checking I was here, when he was home. I’ve heard him a few times. I‘ve answered a couple. The house is empty. The nights are long. They were quiet before, not empty. I’m sorting, culling, packing, getting rid of our lifetime together. Some people are trying to encourage me in getting it done. They have no clue to the feelings that I am wrestling with. The feeling I am erasing him,a kind of denial that he ever was (we ever were). He is still with us, but I don’t have the breathing space to ease this grief before I dispose of his things. Clothes he may still need in totes. Tools and “toys” sold, given, thrown away. A part of me has acknowledged that the man he was is gone, but the man I have Cared for is still here, and I am still his Caregiver. Until he leaves us the grief won’t end. The order is wrong. I’m finding my way. He had a CHF spell last night and his mortality was brought home again. Our Daughter is flying in Sunday evening. By next weekend, the sorting, culling, etc. will be done—or nearly so. I should be in my little 1 bedroom apartment. Like it or not, I’m moving on. But, oh how I’ll be glad when my heart can heal and catch up. DH has and will always have a place in my heart, but his place here with me is disappearing. Wolf is right, doors will open. We just have to experience and move through these times, so we are ready to go through them when they do. I’ll get there. Just give me a little time.
Wolf and Carosi, many of us are not "there" yet, but most of us will be one day. The gut wrenching honesty of your emotions and grief tear at the heart. It reminds me when as young girl of 19,I was expecting my first child, I had been in labor for 36 hrs.and now they were wheeling me into the delivery room....my mother ran up beside me and said "do you know what's going to happen in there, to which I replied, not really and she said,you are probably better off not knowing". In this instance, I think we are better off knowing, and hearing you tell it helps and the telling helps you and that's what this board is all about. All I can say is I feel your pain and know one day I will carry that pain,too. I'm asking God to help me in that task already and praying that you as well will seek His strength.
To everything there is a season, a time to be born and a time to die.....a time to mourn and a time to dance.....
Tomorrow is "leap day" and I will be leaving Maine for a few days in Florida visiting our daughter. My wife will be cared for by a woman who has helped her a lot, so she is familiar with her. I had planned to leave on Thursday, but we are scheduled to get our first major snow-storm that day, so I rescheduled my flight to Wednesday. I'll be getting back on Tuesday. While I am in Florida I will be meeting Phranque for lunch.
February--not the best month. While I was visiting son in CA, hb was admitted to hospital w/bladder/prostate bleeding. Had a TURP procedure. Back to care center. Last week he became unresponsive and admitted to hospital the day before I was to leave for FL to visit granddaughter. Guess it wasn't his time, he recovered and is back at the care center. More wobbly walking and only allowed if 2 staff are w/him. When he sits, he's on a pad that beeps when he stands up. He's eating well--at least when I'm there to make sure he does. When I'm not there, I'm sure staff helps w/that as they do with others. I visit every day. He knows me (not my name, I think), tells me he loves me. Our doctor requested Hospice visit w/me during last hospital stay. They mentioned the care center has a Butterflies Are Free program which is much like hospice. Today I'll sign up for that. Seems strange that he may be that close to the end of the journey when he is not bedfast. Visited wonderful support group we participated in BP (before placement) yesterday. The journey has been long but not so long as Carosi's; I can do this. It's encouraging reading our "family" experiences. Advice has been helpful, too.