I visited my parents this weekend. Although he’s in a wheelchair whenever he leaves the house, he looks a lot better than the last time I saw him (after the diagnosis). Although that may be attributable to the fact that he’d just gotten off a plane.
After seeing him that time, I had a post that I never published all about how I’m a fighter & always have been but my father seems to have given up. Where did I get this propensity to fight? Was he ever a fighter? &c. I discussed this at length with my husband & sisters: how I feel like he’s given up. Especially since the disease has progressed faster than was otherwise expected (which I and one of my sisters attribute, in part, to psychology). I felt betrayed by him for doing so much accepting of his condition.
I spoke with an aunt who recommended Tuesdays with Morrie, about a professor with ALS & his student; “and life’s greatest lesson”. It was predictably mushy: seize the day, accept your fate, things work out in the end, and so forth. But it also had some very real, if poetic, descriptions of the disease (like a candle, that slowly melts your flesh until all that’s left is a puddle of wax). It made it feel more real, some how; more tangible. It’s a short book, so I started & finished it on the plane up to visit my parents. It was broken up by moments of uncontrollable sobbing and salted honey peanuts. Then I arrived, my husband set up my parents’ DSL (they’ve got DSL & cell phones: my world is falling apart), and I read this blog entry.
So that was my mantra for the weekend. And beyond. It sometimes feels cliched, since I don’t think everything should be accepted, just the things you can’t do anything about. But that puts me dangerously close to buying kitschy magnets with the Serenity Prayer on them. But staying with my parents for the weekend and seeing how they deal with it daily (and really, you simply can’t deal with it at a high emotional level at all times) has been very healing for me. Leading me toward acceptance. And I still cry when mom has to put his grapefruit in a bowl because he can’t eat it from the fruit, or when she modifies his favorite BBQ apron for when he starts spilling on himself; but for the most part, I can think of him without needing a hug.
And more and more, I can allow things to be as they are, rather than trying to fight for them to be different.
3 responses so far ↓
1 Elaine // Mar 17, 2008 at 7:33 pm
Yeah. I’ve never been very good at letting things be. But I’m learning.
I’m sort of in the same position you are, xJane. Even though the doctor has said that the cancer my mother was diagnosed with recently is less likely to do her in than something else, considering her age, I’m having to deal more closely than I have before with the fact that she isn’t going to be with me forever.
While I’ve known that, intellectually, for several years…at least as long as I’ve been dealing with her failing memory…it still kicked me in the ass when the diagnosis came down. And it’s still kicking me regularly, even though I’m starting to deal a little bit better.
So, xJane, know that my thoughts are with you and I kind of understand where you are right now.
2 wren // Mar 18, 2008 at 6:38 am
I listened to the audiobook version of Tuesdays with Morrie on a road trip several years ago and had bouts of bawling along the way.
It wasn’t until the last year that something clicked and I began to understand what my therapist had been trying to get me to understand for years about accepting things as they are. In my mind I equated that with approval of things as they are. It’s not the same thing. But I couldn’t see that for years.
I think the aha moment for everyone is different in getting that. For me it was a combination of things that pointed me to understanding that suffering really is optional. That suffering isn’t the hurt and sorrow and pain but lack of acceptance that there is hurt and sorrow and pain. Again, underscoring that acceptance does not equal approval. More like saying, Yeah, it is what it is, and then recognizing what’s in my sphere of control and what isn’t. Though cheesy, the serenity prayer is apt.
3 Been There // Mar 18, 2008 at 8:31 pm
I took care of my parents for many years until they died. It’s very difficult to watch those who nurtured you suffer and whither away before your eyes. There’s a positive affirmation that I’ve used through the years (I’m a serious control freak).
” I release all resistance”
It’s amazing how many doors open once you do…My thoughts are with you.
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