Alone again, naturally. I have decided to get out of the house. I love my home. It was the home I helped design and we were the first owners. I think back. A year ago, we started putting down wood flooring that I had wanted for years. Now it is half done in the living room and bare concrete from where the carpet had been ripped out. We did a spare room for practice and that turned out really well. He wanted it for the computer and TV where he could watch his sports in the comfort of his recliner. We decided to paint the room in the favorite team colors. I did most of the painting since he did the floors. I put all the team memorabilia in the room. It looked great. Now it is just a reminder of another mistake. When he left for the last time last March I asked him why we spent the money ($6k+) on new floors and paint? He said he knew I always wanted the wood floors. But, just like a lot of things in our marriage he left with it half done. My sons-in laws finished the living room for me. The other spare room and hallway were never done. I left the spare parts lying in the room and tried to let it all go.
The stress of the house and working a job I hated was building up inside. I was increasingly depressed and not feeling well enough to go to work. Then one night, I am awakened by the most horrible pain in my stomach. I thought I was on fire or trying to explode. Struggling to get up I make it to the spare room where my daughter is. I ask her to call the doctor and tell her how I feel. The doctor on call says go to the hospital. So off we go. Why do you get sick in the night? Why after midnight and a weekend? But, we get to the ER and I almost crawl in. I can’t stand up straight and it is hard to speak. After a shot for the pain and interview I am given a room and try to relax. They decide to keep me and start testing for the usual suspects. Of course the first thing is NO FOOD, not even water. I beg for ice chips.
After several tests, including the nuclear that are way too costly they can’t get a decision. By this time my doctor has come to see me. She remembers me telling her “no more gut tests” (translation: I had two back to back colonoscopies, along with two EDG's - camera down the throat- and recently I swallowed a capsule with a camera to take photos of my small intestines, so what's left to see?). So she says since all the organs that would cause this trouble are okay, she will treat as my ulcer has come back with a vengeance - gee I can't imagine why. Increase dosage or try another type. After four days I am sent home. What a nightmare. But the hospital was nice and everyone treated me very well. It was better than being at work which I hated.
Not only did I endure pain, not being at home, and not eating until day four, I missed attending my dear mother’s 90th birthday. I was so upset that day I cried. I begged to be released long enough to attend and I would be right back but no chance. I didn’t realize I could’ve gotten up and walked out but I wouldn’t have been able to get the IV tower in the car, so I guess I had to stay. Finally home. I feel terrible still – my guts just won’t let me alone. I see the doctor a few days later. She changes the meds and we talk about my so called life. She tells me to find a happy place.
Now at this point I am super duper depressed about my life. I am not seeing my counselor right now and just feel so awful. I find myself staying in bed not going to work, not eating, sleeping too much, no interest in doing anything. Is this what it is to have an emotional breakdown? I don’t know, don’t care. What to do? My youngest daughter comes to check on me a couple of days in a row. By the end of the week she is back to tell me I have to do something. She insists on taking me down to my mom’s house. We go in and my mother is glad to see us. She’s wondering why I am not at work, what’s going on? My daughter does all the talking and tells my mom that I am not capable of working and can’t stay at the house. She asked my mom if I can come live with them for awhile until I figure out what to do. My mom says ‘of course’. She is not in good health and could use some help around the house. My dad says nothing.
Somewhere in there I see my doctor again and I am very agitated and in tears. She tells me I must do something to change my life. I am also having panic attacks in the mornings. Of course there is medication for my panic and depression so another med. I don’t like to be medicated but I am so down I can’t function. It will be temporary. She reminds me I have been through life altering events. Divorce, losing my house, a job I dislike. She asks if I am able to quit the job and not work for awhile. I think so, I need to. So, the next day I muster up my courage and off to work I go armed with a resignation letter. I liked my supervisor but I had never been treated fairly so I wanted to leave. Of course they are surprised. I felt badly, I hated walking out without notice but I can feel my mind slipping away. I feel so empty and wrung out.
So, I move back into the bedroom I grew up in. Of course there was some furniture moving around and changes for my parents. Mom gave up some of her private space for me. But being the loving, wonderful mother she was – she did anything for her children. She knew I was in pain and wanted to do all she could for me. She babied me for the first couple of weeks, then she encouraged me the next couple and then she would come and say I needed to get to doing something. My daughter at this time was trying to work part time so I babysit the grandsons. That gave me a reason to get up in the morning. When my daughter and my neighbor were available and truck ready we would go to my house and bring stuff down to store. I had to empty a four bedroom house of 15 yrs of memories.
A bigger job than I ever imagined. I was so sad to have to leave I would become paralyzed. I just couldn’t focus, couldn’t lift anything. If it hadn’t been for them and later my Sunday school classmates I would have never gotten it done. I donated a lot and threw away more. Another group from church and some family members painted the outside for me. It went from an awful Smurf blue to a pretty sandy cream. They finally covered the fire damaged area - the cause still a mystery.
Spring arrives and the sun is shining more. I love the flowers blooming and seeing the grass turn green. I just don’t like winter; it is too bare and colorless. My mother loves flowers too. The yard always looked great with all the petunias, pansies (her fav) and potted geraniums on the porch. One day we are in the yard planting a new hydrangea. She sits on the bench in the yard directing my dad where to dig the hole and then I will set the plant. I think about how hard it is for her to get around. She so desperately wants to do it herself but can’t get on the ground, she would never get up. Her knees are bad and she stubbles as she crosses the yard. She wants things cleaned up but neither of them can do that kind of work anymore. Age has caught up with her and I know I must enjoy every moment.
[A] mother is one to whom you hurry when you are troubled. ~Emily Dickinson
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