Still not understood

I'm going to put it out there. Ready? I'm 50 years old. And I'm a female. There, I said it. Really, I don't feel "old" even though all the "jokes", which by the way are not funny, about how we physically change and all the maladies surprising us all with their sudden appearance complete with all the painful creaks, pops and pain, have reared their ugly heads.

There's alot of real information out there, along with all the jokes, but you know what? A majority of doctors still don't take us seriously. And our husbands still have absolutely no clue what we are really going through. Both subsets of the male species, pass over us. When we do try to express the physical or mental conditions we are going through during this period of life, both glaze over and it passes right over their heads. They say "uh-huh" alot and do everything short of patting us on top of the head to either change the subject or the channel. After twenty-two years of marriage, I HAVE come to understand that men, generally, need to "fix" a problem and if they can't, they don't really want to hear about it. Doctors do have an advantage that husbands don't. It's called a prescription pad. And you know what it is they do to "help"? They conclude that we are simply suffering from one or another form of depression and given one or more meds for anti-depressives, or anxiety, or, or, or. And many times it goes from "or" to "and"! DOes the underwhelming result prove it works? I seriously doubt it. I know a number of ladies my age and a majority of them are on some sort of these kinds of medications and they still suffer from all the same thoughts and moods that I do.

There's one thing that we pre/mid-menopausal ladies do to ourselves, besides buy into the illusion that doctors are really trying to help. We turn on each other. Not turn TO each other, but turn ON each other. Right at a time of life when we need to circle the wagons around one another and be understanding, we emotionally stamp our own foot and take stands against a friend "taking advantage" of us. Admittedly this is a solution that is probably needed somewhere in our lives, but misdirected toward the wrong target. Having meaningful friendships with other women is VERY important for us. But, it's more common that we are isolating ourselves from those friendships because we won't take the time to be understanding and reach outside of ourselves. We are so invested in our families and their needs that it's too easy to excuse our lack of outside relationships. When understanding and compassion is needed for yet one more person in our lives, it's common for women to feel we are being taken advantage of or that person isn't adding anything to our own lives, only sucking it more dry. So we distance and isolate ourselves from those other ladies. It's just easier. After all, we must take care of ourselves and think about ourselves for once. Or so we're told.

I challenge all women to take care of themselves by making sure to add a few meaningful relationships with other women into our daily lives. Not just a couple times a year, but on a regular basis. It's not easy. It's hard. It's work. We have to think outside of ourselves. But it's so worth it! The benefits to our physical being and our mental being is tremendous. We may actually live longer and healthier. Now, isn't that cheaper than taking a bunch of medications we really don't need?

There are no words for...

Well, Day 11 is ending. It's been quite a ride. A slow, painful, frustrating, infuriating, numbing ride. When I arrived Dad was in the hospital hospice ward. He could get to/from the bathroom with a little assistance and was eating a few bites of solid hospital foods. He could speak, hoarsely, but words were there. Three days after my arrival, I brought him home. Nothing much changed the next day or so, but on the tail end of the second day going into day three, he started heading downhill fast. He suddenly couldn't get to the bathroom on his legs even with my assistance. His appetite, as little as it had been, bottomed out to nothing. He has become mostly unresponsive and taking his meds in liquid form as its the only way to get them in him.

Now, my mother, being one of those mothers that fixes all things with food, simply wasn't grasping the fact that food was no longer an option. But when she was made to understand this fact, it seemed to be the only way she was capable of "helping". She abdicated her mind and has been fuzzy on the business that needs to be taken care of...financial, as well as burial arrangements. This mother and father of mine, that had always been ultimately responsible and foresightful, failed to make plans for their eventual demise. Absolutely no plans had been made and they were clueless as to what they were to do. Now, as abdicated as she may be, she still has not relinqueshed the real "power". I my typical get-things-done manner, I have made phone calls, researched, and laid out the options...better yet, the best option. All that is needed is the say so to move forward. But that is not coming. As if I haven't done or said a word on any of the subjects, she will meander her conversations into "plans" that she thinks things should be. And they couldn't be any further from reality, much less a workable option.

In the meantime, neighbors, hospice and local pastors and chaplains have made a steady stream into our home daily since having a hospital bed brought in and simply keeping him "comfortable" is our job. As I watch the ravages that this insipid cancer does to this human body, I don't believe he's truly comfortable at all. But the medicines do keep him in another world. I guess that's something. Again I wonder...why don't we hear more about this out there in the world?

Where is that confidence?

Wow, who was it that said I had come to grips with this and had found a home in my purpose? Surely it wasn't me, because I don't feel anything like that today.

I've been with my parents for 5 days now. My dad has come home from the hospital and we are "managing" his pain. But he is in pain quite often. He still gets around some...very slowly, with a very nervous me standing at his elbow at all times ready with the catcher's mitt. He sleeps alot. In bed and in a chair. He has no voice and is hard to hear and understand a times. But his mind is still very much "on" with the occasional word that plagues us all on the tip of our tongues.

The greatest challenge I have found so far is my own selfishness. This is not "home", the place where I can relax. It's very uncomfortable here, in many, many ways. If I could know my own family and home were just across town or nearby, it would relieve some of the stress I feel. My poor son had to be on the receiving end of my first breakdown (yes, I said first because I highly suspect it was only the beginning) yesterday, via telephone. What started out as a "how was your day, dear?" conversation, turned into a full-blown blubbering mamma apologizing for doing so. It wasn't a pretty sight. Bless his heart, he's still talking to me today...he's a good kid.

I am quickly discovering that there is no relief or respite for the caregiver. At my father's advance stage, I am needed even when he is asleep for such duties as dispensing meds or going to the bathroom. And no one comes to visit. So all three of us are homebound. Day drags to night, night turns to day, day drags to night.....a perpetual swinging of a lone pendulum. Isolation. That's a good word to describe this, isolation. It feels like the whole world has stopped spinning but you can't find the way off the merry-go-round and everyone has gone home...deserted you.

I do know better. In the dead of the night, when I am needing to stay awake for the final medicine dispense, I am surfing my virtual community of friends that I used to chat with, laugh with during my days. Many of them leave me very encouraging words and wishes and let me know how proud they are of me and are praying for me. I wish they'd quit thinking grand things of me, though. I certainly don't see the same traits in myself that they seem to see in me. But I will take all their prayers! Maybe this will become easier and I will find some sort of footing. I really don't want to feel begrudging. My dad deserves the care and if that means some sacrifice or hardship on my part, then I am going to keep trying.

Ready, set....

I have come to grips with what is coming. I've had the time to find a "home" inside myself with my place and purpose. I know that there are still alot of unknowns, but I have found something inside me that says I can do this.

My father was placed in the hospital for pain management and they discovered a blot-clot in his leg. The meds used to dissolve and manage his pain finally kicked in and started giving him enough relief that he was resting better and sounded rested. There is a little voice to his hoarseness also. So, I'm hopeful that when I get there, he will be in better spirits and be ready to face the business of making arrangements and talking through everything that needs to be talked through.

My own husband and son have left me alone just the right amount and reassured me that things will happen as they should. I am reminded that even when things aren't done "right", they do get done and "well enough". I will miss some key days and activities with them, but I am also realizing that I can actually grow in many ways, and different ways, closer to them through my time away.

So, here I go.