Life: The Most Beautiful, Chaotic, Disastrous Ride, Ever.
~
Walking into the room, you see her sitting in her wheel chair, and for a moment, you’re happy that she’s sitting up. Quietly, you watch her shift, and her head turn frantically from side to side. Her eyes, while open, show her nothing of the world, except for a faint shadow now and again. Her hands dart around herself, frantically but cautiously, and her breathing speeds up with each passing second. You notice that her foot moves and taps quickly on the floor, and as if hearing your loud, screaming thoughts herself- she turns directly towards you. “Who’s there?!” She yells, in a panic. And you’re quickly reminded that, although the dark purple, green, and red bruises have faded from her skin…..there are mental scars and wounds that are just starting to show their colors.
It’s so hard seeing family members who were once fully functioning (only weeks ago…) and pretty good on their own…turned into people afraid of the slightest movement, and quietest noise. To see people who were so utterly trusting, now even question if the family is really who they say they are. To be having a conversation with them, nice and calmly, and without any real change, they fall into a delusion that makes them fear for their life, and you grasp at anything to help bring them back to you again. To reality. There are no real words to put with what keeps happening, and there are no handles to hold on to.
It’s like you’re on this horrible amusement park ride. One that makes you stand up, and that locks your feet on to the floor. It’s up to you to see the turns coming, and brace yourself for them. Trouble is, the ride corners like it’s on greased rails (worse than Pretty Woman…) leaving you flailing to keep composure, grasping for anything to hold on to, and realizing that curling up in a ball, just feeling for the ground, is the only thing that’s really bringing you comfort. Worst part comes when the ride suddenly stops, and restarts with no notice. Over, and over, and over….
~
Sometimes it’s hard not to get completely stuck in all the “thoughts” I’ve been having about all of this. I don’t like that I can’t make this better for everyone. I don’t like that I can’t act on the crazy, angry, hateful thoughts I’m having. I don’t like that our healthcare system is BEYOND FLAWED. I don’t like that she has to go through any of this at all.
But you see that picture up there? That’s part of my undying Hope. That tiny hand in hers made her giggle. It made her smile. It made her relax. It changed the conversation to cute memories, and silly stories. It changed her mind-set back to the positive, and reality. It showed me she is still in there, trying so hard to stay afloat. But that little, tiny, strong hand was also able to calm our GG in her last months, too. She’s got the touch, that one. (Swallows the emotional lump in my throat…) There are two other pairs of hands that have been so strong through the past few years of complete craziness with the Elders, and they’ve all been so wonderful to them, too.
That’s what does it. It’s the support, love, warmth, caring, just being there, old memories, old stories, and all the laughs you can get. It’s the internal fire, burning regardless of circumstance. It’s the little pieces of hope, that although are broken into small shards, are still in there, trying hard to shine through the darkness. It’s the faith you hold in whatever, whoever…and your will to live. Life is the most beautiful, chaotic, disaster ever. With so, so many lessons and learning experiences along the way. Regardless of your “ride,” you’d best just hold on tight, and love on your family all you can, whenever you can.
