Sunday, September 10, 2017

more than

I am more than
Sweetie
Dear
Darlin'
Honey
Milk-in-a-kid-cup
Make eye contact with my husband because you don't know how to act towards me.

I am more than
Tube feedings
Small bites
If I eat that I'll have a blowout
A bloated, gas filled bag
Messy hair
Swollen feet
Poorly done toe nail polish.

I am more than
The awkward smile the stranger gives me which is more he gives the able person
      Because he has to do something because how do you react to a middle aged woman
      Who is riding around in a bright pink wheelchair
      When it is obvious she shouldn't be there.
ACT NORMAL
I scream
But then I feel bad because he is just trying to be nice.

I am more than
Crumbled concrete
Acting like curbcuts
Back door rickety wooden ramps
That take you through the kitchen
Meeting eyes with the kind soul who washes dishes.

I am more than
Things to get done
A checklist
Small sips
But rather
Big
Thirst quenching
Gulps.

I am more than
Dropping relationship
Because it is too hard
And you don't know how
I don't either
But at least I am trying
While I am questioning
Why is it so important to me.

I am more than
Guilt-ridden
For not answering
Texts
Emails
Letters
Writing thank you notes
Because it is just so fuckin' hard.

I am more than
Naps
Talking about naps
Doctor appointments
Talking about doctor appointments
Breathing levels
Dry ashy skin
Disfigured feet.

More than.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

Change and Do I Get to be Mad at G-d??

Rolling around the neighborhood early yesterday afternoon, Mama deer and the smaller of her two babies greeted me as I approached the creek. They were sipping from the water, and as I approached them they immediately lifted their heads and came forward a few steps. Their ears up, tails twitching, they checked me out, and went back to drinking. A few moments later, the second baby crossed the street and joined his family in partaking of the cool water. The fur on Mama's back has started to change - going from a rust to a deeper brown - in order to camouflage with the changing leaves of Autumn.

Though I am not going back to school, change - a lot of it - still happened in my home over the past few days. Adam and I took Sarah back to college to start her second year. Though there was some anxiety, she was met with familiarity and friends. The whole experience was so different than last year, and for that I am thankful.Ean (my baby) has started back to high school as a sophomore, more interested in seeing friends than getting back to learning.  I think he enjoyed his last summer of "freedom" - no job - in spite of the chaos ALS has brought to our lives. He did take on some responsibility - transferring me, feeding me - and I am sure the nature of these responsibilities has changed him.

Gillian, the five pound, premature, late to walk and talk, middle child, has begun her senior year in high school. Unlike her brother, she is in it more for the learning but I believe she has learned how to balance it all. I rely heavily on Gillian - both this summer and always - because I believe she thinks most like me. When I want the "dead" food cleaned out of the fridge or the kitchen table cleared off, I have a tendency to ask Gillian. I know it will be done the way I would do it. I worry that it is too much. And with all the change, Gillian is the person who treats me most the same.

Adam started today working full time school hours. Welcome change for him (us!) as he starts a new career, something he has wanted for a long time. He spent the majority of his summer caring for me, figuring out the logistics of having a disabled wife, while maintaining as much normalcy as possible for him and our family. With his change of job comes change for me - having a five day a week caretaker in my life. Her name is Marie and she is lovely and kind and respectful. And it will be fine, but getting used to someone caring for me in all personal matters will take some time. Change. It's a big one.

Then there is also change in my hands - my fingers are so weak and gnarled that pushing the buttons on my pwc to alter settings has become frustrating and time consuming. Picking up drinking cups, cell phones, and the half egg salad sandwich I like to eat for lunch has become Herculean tasks. And typing is an all day event.

Then there is the change in my thinking. I am a Jewish woman, raised by Jewish parents, raising a Jewish family. I believe in G-d. I pray to G-d. Lately...do I dare say it?...I am mad at G-d. It has taken me almost a year, but I am pissed off in a quizzical kind of way. A like-minded PALS who I met online who is about six months ahead of me told me I would get to this point. I wonder, "did I do something to make G-d angry?" Was it the unkind words I said to Sharon in second grade? Or kissing too many boys in seventh grade? Or maybe it was when I told my Mom I was going back to college but I really went to my boyfriend's house and she caught me. I feel that G-d MUST have a reason, and making him/her angry seems logical. And, if this is the reason, do I get to be mad? And if there is another reason, do I get to be mad about that? Do I get to be mad at G-d?

A couple of months back my Mom and I were walking/rolling into a bookstore and a title caught our eyes - EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON (I might have told you this). We both declared "Bullshit!", and went on our merry way. But now my thinking has changed - maybe the hokey self-help book got it right. Maybe G-d has decided this is my fate. I am not sure.