Categories: uncategorized
Date: 08 February 2006 21:51:28
I don't suppose anyone who's not been in this situation can imagine or begin to understand how I am feeling at the moment - in fact, I don't really understand myself. This numb sensation on the edge of cascading tears which I dare not give way to for fear that they won't stop - this cannot possibly be right. Dad's better. He's doing really well.
And I am glad. I didn't want to lose him. I love him more than it's possible to describe. But I'm afraid. Afraid of going through this horrendous time yet again, as I know we will. I'm afraid of seeing his hopes (his denial, in truth) being dashed when it happens again and he's brought yet lower, as I know is bound to happen sooner or later. I'm afraid of the effect on my emotions of waking one morning to find him really ill again, as sudden and shocking as his sudden new lease of life. With the burst of adrenalin of finding himself feeling stronger and having escaped death and with a clear brain and bladder scan, he's already pushing himself too hard, doing too much. How long before he becomes angry with me for being protective and pointing out his limitations... or until I find myself picking up the pieces? Whatever, I am back to the early morning routine and disrupted evenings and in creep the selfish, appalling feelings of helpless frustration at finding myself back at square one. I wish I could rid myself of them.
Oh, and as if I wasn't feeling sorry enough for myself, I've developed earache and sinusitis (and I can't even take the day off work tomorrow as Smudgelet has a development day and also because Dad would want to know why I was home)
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!