Another beautiful spring day. Birds chirping, flowers exploding into bloom, fruits fattening on the branch, hummingbirds positively ADD, pool at 67. It’s the kind of day that refuses to let strife darken its door. This is the kind of overpowering beauty I live for. The Hubs has gone (quad) riding, back to Lake Arrowhead (site of BIL’s accident). I imagine there’s quite a crowd there. Lots of Easter/spring break revelers. Perhaps he’ll meet some kindred spirits and make friends.
Yet, I’m a bit depressed. My entire family, except my sister, is very ill. I feel helpless to do more than make feeble attempts at supporting both my parents and brother. I bring food and meds, try to shuttle my parents to appointments, be there for them. I want to take care of them, though I’m not in the best condition either, but better than all three at this point. Last month my Mom exclaimed, “I’m going to live to 103!”, which is how old her grandfather was when he died. He might’ve lived longer, had he not suffered a precipitous fall from a great height. On the other hand his life might’ve been shortened by exposure to modern things, like squeeze cheese and ground beef… Ha ha. I actually think my Mom would do better with that country lifestyle – lots of exercise, a diet restricted to “real” food, clean air, etc. Her stress might be decreased, thus lowering her blood pressure… I don’t know, though. All sorts of things run in her family – diabetes, heart disease, high cholesterol, hypertension, psoriasis… So maybe not. She’s thus far defied the odds, but life has really dealt her a difficult hand, and she’s been nothing but a trooper through it all. It makes me sad to see her so ill.
This is made worse by the fact that she’s my Dad and brother’s caregiver, in the maximum definition of the word. Now that she’s down herself, I’m having difficulty taking up the slack. I’m mortified about how to care for my Dad and brother if she doesn’t recover. At her appointment yesterday, the Hubs asked what the prognosis was. She said very tiredly, “I’m dying. I’m dying”. I was shocked. She must feel worse than anything, I thought. I often think I’m dying, but I haven’t really said it out loud. I think there’s a part of me that refuses to give in, yet. So for my Mom to say it out loud just frightens me. Could she mean it?
I think there must be something wrong with me, that I could sit here and enjoy this day, and know how my Mom suffers. I want to bring her to my house, to lift her spirits and give her a change of place. I know she enjoys it here, and I worry that my Dad can’t care for her properly, as he’s unwell himself. Yet she declines. If i go to try to do stuff around her house, she’ll constantly say, “you should go home and rest”, and worries about imposing on Hubs, and frets that he’s neglected. So weird, but whatever.
So, this Twitter thing. It’s cool – I’m reading all sorts of things. It’s an info junkie vending machine, and a time suck because of it. I can’t imagine following a zillion entities. Who has that kind of time? One of the things I found was this piece by 60 Minutes, which just won a Peabody Award – Deception at Duke. The subject of the piece still practices oncology in South Carolina, and is touted on the cancer center’s site as “a foremost expert in lung cancer”. So scary.
The day just gets prettier. Music mixes with a torrent of very loud birdsong. Good day to celebrate life, go for a walk, have Moroccan chicken and count one’s blessings.
Happy Easter everyone 🙂