Aug 30, 2013 Sometimes I Fall Apart
Aug 30, 2013
Changes in Sam continue their general downhill trend. Nothing major, but the signs are there. Walking just gets harder and harder, requiring more and more support. His voice, which has been a whisper for weeks, is even fainter. He’s sleepy.
He’s still without pain. When I ask if he is happy, he says, “Yes.” He likes having Ben and Abby around more. He likes to come with me to bring the teens to school and pick them up. When I ask if he wants visitors, he says,”Yes.” Every time. I’m trying really hard to control the flow of guests, not because it overwhelms Sam but because if you all come at once then he’s bored for the rest of the day! He wants to eat. All. The. Time. I say, “No,” a lot. “Let’s wait 15 minutes.” He eats a lot of grapes. And watermelon. And blueberries. And the occasional bowl of banana pudding. Thanks to my friend, Susan, we have plenty of that.
Today in addition to a visit from Susan (who walked Chance-thank you. He’s a 71 pound puppy, with puppy-like energy), Mari came over to work on King’s crown, Mrs. Wadlow (Sam’s 2nd grade teacher), and Mrs. Jones (school librarian) came by to say, “Hi,” and finally Rabbi Linda helped us bring in Shabbat.
My mom and dad were here a couple of times today (they live less than a half mile away). Thanks to mom there is not a month’s worth of dog poop in the backyard, I tossed the rotten food in the fridge, and the plastic containers it was in were washed. Maybe tomorrow Sam and I will browse through our Giada books, and create a menu. Then I will make a list and do the shopping.
I gotta give props to the staff at the high school. With my cousin, the English teacher, as their guide they have been kind and generous with my children. The teens feel loved.
As for me, sometimes I feel strong, and sometimes I fall apart. Abby only joined me for the first mile of tonight’s walk, so I was alone on mile two. With no one to talk to but the dog I find myself going to the darkest place possible. Pretty soon I’m walking in the dark, crying. There’s nothing wrong with crying. I know I should be crying now. A lot. But after a mile of crying I don’t want to be alone anymore. Then there was a miracle. Amanda joined me for the last lap and pulled me up out of the darkness. Okay, I’m being dramatic. But it was a relief to talk about something that had been bothering me (someone dumping IN-if you are familiar with the Ring Theory, you know what I mean), instead of just crying alone.