the irony of Being Mortal

April 12, 2015 at 4:21 am (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

there are so many things i want to say.  the most difficult thought for me to impart is the physical pain and exhaustion i feel every day.  most days i sleep until the afternoon, or the early evening.  when i get up to use the bathroom, often with the hope i can get my day going, it takes so long i worry about making it in time.  that is a shameful thing to share here with you but how can you understand if i am not honest here.  there is pain throughout my body constantly now.  i can feel each and every fiber of my body, with the exception of the times that i have the numbness from neuropathy.  often i stagger and find it hard to prevent myself falling.

i was naive to think i could keep doing this blog at a normal pace when i am progressing with my heart failure. of course there is also the (non-alcohol) related cirrhosis of the liver. there is a long list of other complications that i find too tedious to list.  when i am awake but unable to actually get out of bed or out of the recliner i think of things that i want to make sure i say.  i often look at my laptop sitting a couple of feet away and am over-whelmed with the idea of actually picking it up. then there is the part of putting together comprehensive thoughts.

a couple of months ago we watched a documentary about a doctor who wrote  a book entitled Being Mortal.  he wanted to understand how to have better conversations with patients who were terminal and had reached the point where modern medicine could no longer enhance their life.  his own father was diagnosed with cancer and they found it difficult to have a conversation about what was about to happen.  the ironic thing was he said “what i found missing in every book was the voice of the patient.” yet here he was writing about the subject of dying and again there was not one patient voice. it was other drs explaining how they were handling talking to patients about palliative care rather than further treatment.

as time goes by i have more understanding. patients are just too damn tired and don’t want to use valuable energy to teach healthy people how to treat them.  for the second time in just a few months i have heard friends relay to me that they have not seen someone who they are friends with, and the person is terminally ill, as retreating.  i say to them is that person retreating or are you just not taking the time to go see them?

visiting someone who is terminally or even chronically ill can be frustrating.  sometimes in our optimism we say yes to  a plan one day but the day of the event we are unable to function.  does that mean we don’t want to engage? HELL NO! it means you are going to have to be understanding. it means you are going to have to be creative. it means if you are really my friend get your behind in your car and come to me.  it means you may be sitting in bed next to me or in the double recliner with me and yes you may have to make an effort to carry the conversation, you may have to bring pictures to share or read to me.  it wouldn’t matter to me if you just spent 10 minutes just sitting with me.  of course i don’t say this just for myself, there are so many others out there who are spending their last days alone.  i am blessed to have love around me, even saying that i must be frank and say he needs a break sometimes.  every time there is any opportunity for him to get out and socialize i encourage him.  what holds him back is that i will be alone and then what?

oh i will have my amazing, beautiful in spirit as well as on the outside, sister here in a few more months.  she will also need to go her own way in order to fully life her life.  i have some other ideas on the back burner though so no worries here.

just remember that your time will come and ask yourself what would you like from your family and friends?  now do exactly that for someone you know who is suffering from any type of illness and make their last days their best days possible.  when you give kindness it comes back to you.

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