Bone Deep

I didn’t know it was possible to hurt any more than I have been.  Again another thing I was wrong on.  My pain, my grief, my longing has deepened over time.  It is bone deep.  My mind says her name or talks to her begging her to come back to me.  It is on a constant loop.  I know when I am talking to someone that they only have half my attention because the other half is screaming for Hayley.  Grief is destroying me from the inside out.  It is all I think about.  It is my companion.  I walk with it.  It is always beside me like a dark shower.

I have not been out of the house since the surgery except for infusions.  This week I was driving again and taking myself to the doctor appointments.  On Friday I went to Bartells for a prescription and the bank in Safeway.  It was surreal.  I feel like I am walking in a bubble of grief.  Can people see that there is something wrong with me?  It was an effort to put one foot in front of the other.  When waiting in line I had to lean against a display which almost ended in a disaster of bottles going everywhere.  So much for the bubble.  I felt like a robot walking through Safeway to the bank.   Like I was watching myself go through the motions.  It is a surreal feeling that I am trying hard to find the words to make you understand.

It is the response to my raw posts on Facebook that keep me going.  I know there are people thinking of me and grieving with me.  The week was particularly hard because now I know another mom in this club.  I met her on a plane ride back home from Phoenix in December.  We became friends on Facebook.  She was traveling with her daughter around Hayley’s age.  They were coming to spend  Christmas time with her oldest son, Jordan.  He was a recovering addict and doing well here in Renton.  We talked the entire flight.  She let me talk about Hayley seeing such a similarity with her relationship with her daughter.  I learned about Jordan’s battle and her constant worry.  In the past week Jordan had a relapse and is gone.  Like Hayley just gone.  I reached out to his mom and we have talked.  I am watching her go through those emotions and the pain of the first days.  Dealing with services and practicalities.  Her feeling are so familiar and raw that I find myself reliving the same time.

I am constantly thinking and dreaming about that week.  What could have been done.  I have relived the moment I rounded that corner and saw her dying in front of me.  I wake screaming her name just as I did on that horrible night.  It is a nightmare at sleep and at wake.  I can’t stop these loops in my brain.

Is this mental illness?  Will I know?  I cannot bear to live without her but I can’t leave my wonderful son.  It is a constant tug of war.

Maybe I am bored.  Since the surgery and not eating for 2 weeks my energy has been zapped and I do little but sit on the couch with CNN on the tv, not really listening.  I cry over the mess of my house but have zero energy to do anything about it.  I have lost 30 pounds from my high point.  I can’t even get excited about it.  Clothes are more comfortable and that helps a little with my physical well being.  But now I start the work of introducing soft food to my stomach and constant nausea.  I have had a hundred moments of what the hell was I thinking.  Already my blood pressure has improved and I am off of one of my medications.  If I have made that much progress in 2 weeks what else can I accomplish.

I was counting on this new challenge as a way to distract me from my grief.  But all it has done was make everything harder.  My grief is still beside me; now he is also hangry.  Unfinished house projects bother me, sometimes Scott’s voice bothers me.  I don’t recall a phase in the grief book of “everything annoys the shit out of you”.  I am going to have to write my own book and tell it like it really is.

I am happy for everyone celebrating graduations, weddings, and accomplishments.  Friends of Hayleys.  But she is stuck back as a Sophomore in College.  It’s not fair, or right.  This beautiful, funny and kind child is just gone, ceased to exist.  I still cannot wrap my mind around it.  I lay on my bed and stare down the hall to her bedroom door wishing she was in there watching her tv shows and at any moment will burst out and come down the hall and say “feed me mommy”.

Maybe I need a new hobby.  I have painted so many rocks it will take me weeks to hide them.  Don’t forget the fact I don’t want to walk anywhere.  I am crocheting a crappy blanket.  I am looking to start school June 25 to retrain to become a college counselor.  But I am nervous.  Do I have the attention span to try to learn new material?  Is there room in my brain with all of the grief.

I know the same people are here for me, I know who you are, I just have to ask.  But I know I won’t ask, they have their lives to live.  I remember a huge number of people say “I won’t stop asking you to go to coffee or go for a walk I promise”.  Guess what?, they have stopped.  I wonder did I say “no” one too many time and they gave up on me.  At the same time I think good, I can live a lonely existence with my shadow, grief.  Together we will walk through what life is left for me.

Will Work for Donuts

I am hungry.  Not traditional stomach grumbling hungry, but mentally I feel like I need a donut.  Yes, that means I had my weight loss surgery a week ago.  I did not make the decision lightly.  I made a choice to do something to improve my many health issues so I can be a strong Mom for Henry.  But I would work for donuts.  I am so obsessed with the fact I can only have liquids right now.  It is making me anxious!  The surgery was tough.  I landed an extra night in the hospital due to issues with pain and low blood pressure.  I came home Saturday.  I am very uncomfortable.  I also got dehydrated.  I didn’t keep up with my liquids and ended up in worse condition than I started.  Fail.  But the doctor ordered this amazing thing for me.  It is called a banana bag. (not to be confused with a banana hammock)  I go to a infusion center where for 2 hours I get fluids and vitamins and for a short time after feel so much better.  What I am learning so far is that this process is 90% mental and 10% physical.  I understand why they were concerned about my mental and emotional strength.  It took 2 extra months of visiting with psychologists to get my final approval.  I now get it.

Being physically weak this past week has made it really difficult to control my grief.  It creeps in between the cracks.  I miss her so desperately that I am paralyzed by the anxiety.  So many memories of graduation this month, her last major life milestone.  She would be finish her Sophomore year of college and should be coming home this week.  My brain can literally not wrap itself around the fact that she is not coming home.  Maybe it is not strength that has kept me standing but denial.  My anxiety is ratcheting up as we approach July.  July 4th our last family outing.  July 11th, her surgery.  July 18th, I watched her die.  July 20th, the date on her death certificate.  July 23rd, the day they took her from us and she saved the lives of several people.  Which date is the “anniversary”?  I can’t pick just one so it is going to be two weeks of hell.  Maybe the timing of this surgery was not the smartest but was my only option with insurance.

Henry was talking to me the other day and I just paused and checked out.  How was it possible that she wasn’t here to hear his story.  How is he now an only child?  How is it possible that someone so important to my breathing was just gone.  Gone.  We were a family of four.  How can I say we are not.  It was two and two.  Even.  We are now off balance.  How do I make a table work with only three legs.  It is possible, you can make the table stay up.  You have to shift the legs to different positions.  It will stand but it won’t be as strong.  I feel like a wobbly table.  Like the annoying one at the restaurant that no matter how many folded napkins you put under the leg it still moves.

Which makes me think of food.  My thoughts are just like this.  They bounce around from being hungry, to thinking of food, to pain, to sadness, to Hayley, to oh no it’s time for Scott to give me my blood thinner shot.  Yes, Scott has to inject me in the stomach every evening.  What is scary is I think he likes doing it.

I am not sure that this is very informative, entertaining, or even organized.  But I needed to write again and see if it helps.  I also need to thank my friends Sara and Terri.  Terri spent the last 4 days of her life babysitting, driving me to doctor’s appointments and cooking for my family.  Sara took over the job today, watching Sixteen Candles with me and taking me to my infusion.  So here I am with my incisions and smaller stomach.  Will this help with my grief.  No.  But I feel that I am doing something for the future.  As of today I am down 25 pounds from my highest weight.  My goal is 105 pounds.  So nearly 25% there, that feels good.  I can only hope I sleep tonight and wake up feeling a little better.  I hope that my dreams are not about donuts (again) tonight.  Good Night.