Yesterday Sucked and yet . . .

 Yesterday I experienced a huge grief spurt (chest pain, sick to stomach, weeping, inability to think) when the hospice nurse told me it was time to bring in a hospital bed. So next Monday, our marital bed of 48 years will be picked up and hauled away in the morning and a hospital bed brought in in the afternoon. I am in my house alone with him except for my respite times. I am fortunate to have our caregiver here for 17 hours during the week. I have been praying for the Almighty to take His turn with my spouse and it looks like he's answering but it's still not going to be easy watching the love of my life starve to death.

This is the one time in my life I wished I had children so I could have someone in the house with me while I'm going through this.  

One of my church friends told me I can call people and ask for what I need.  She said, "What do you need?  And I thought for awhile and said, "a gigolo."  In my "wicked" past, I usually had at least some Other whom I used to deal with my anger, despair, and need to be thought attractive.

I've always believed in a God with a sense of humor.  This morning I'm recalling that the most money I ever made for a poem - $250 - was for winning a contest with a poem about dementia.  The poem was later published in the anthology, Beyond Forgetting.  The jive-ass muthafucka in charga da whole universe got it some fine sense of irony.  However, as angry as I have been at the Eternal lately I must thank it for the helpers I'm surrounded by, especially for the Facebook spousal caregivers group.  Several of the folks this morning posted that they were going through the same thing.

DEATH PICKS UP MY AUNT, HULDAH BELL

Absence is always too soon for someone.
Standing at the door, discussing
fat peonies on the porch or leftovers
boxed to carry home, the body remains
among the things it knew.  While there outside,
already in the car, tired of making small tal,
the mind is waiting, leaning on the horn.

This lengthy last discussion disturbs
those who remain behind, still busy
with the party.  "Just go or stay,"
we whisper to each other, wink-grimacing
our disapproval.  Such fragmentation
disrupts our practiced tales of war
and marriage told with brandy
and that second piece of cake.

 

 

And yet, yesterday also gave me joy in the evening when I met for the last time this year with my Exploring Faith Matters - EFM - class on Zoom (because - ice).  This class is absolutely wonderful, albeit small, and I always feel joyful when we have a deep theological discussion, as we did last night.  SOoooo - I have much for which to be thankful even as I grouse and complain about having to do the work of caregiving until the end.

AND, I am working on realizing that this is a powerful privilege...watching someone die as one's heart is ripped to shreds on waking every morning.  And I mean that kinda sincerely.  I was a hospice volunteer in the 90s...so I am a bit prepared for all that's happening.  And it is a common experience that isn't talked about a lot.  Sigh.  Always look on the bright side of life.