Friday, October 26, 2012

A few hours alone

I cried on Thursday.  My friend, Pam, came over to stay with Roger while I had errands to run.  And it may not seem an odd thing to cry, but for me it has been a long while, months and months. I've been going full guns on crisis mode for the last 3 years and haven't had much time alone, which is time to think and contemplate for me.  And, grieving for me, is a very private and an alone thing.  I was in the car driving, and the flood started, and I was so sad.  Roger and I have had many adventures: fishing, riding on the ATV, camping, our poker nights with friends, horseshoes, just a lot of good stuff that defined our relationship,  and most of that is over, and I've been trying so hard to make sure that every opportunity to make Roger smile happens.  He just doesn't feel well.  Roger doesn't feel like Roger any more, and that's why I don't feel like me any more.  So when, I started crying, I knew it was not so much crying because I am sad but because I am grieving.  For the way things were are no longer.  Fishing and finding adventure has turned into waiting rooms and finding medical help.  And trying to find adventure in those waiting rooms and doctor visits.  And in reading back trying to find fun in times of medical crises.  And a lot of comments on my blog now seem so inappropriate,  that at the time was what made sense.
Grieving for what was and what is to become, Roger and I have had to reinvent ourselves.  And it seems I have had to reinvent myself so many times already, but for Roger it is especially hard.  He does not, in any way shape or form, like having to depend on someone else for help and care.   And it makes him angry and emotional some times and he hates getting emotional and that just makes him more angry.  All I can do is be there, because he does not want to be helpless, or sick, or dependent.  None of us do.  So here I am and it often seems being here is all I can do.  I know he is grateful.  I know he loves me as I love him.  And while the future is so very uncertain-here we are, Roger and I stumbling along together in this medical labyrithn trying to survive, reinvent, and hold it together.