clickmom

extremes

Today was the husband's 8th day in the hospital.

He is in heart failure and it is not clear to the doctors who are trying to help him why his heart is failing. It just may be the curse of his family. In the mean time they're talking to him about things I never knew existed, like an implantable defibrillator which shocks your heart back to life automatically when it senses either a stoppage or an irregular heart beat. They also talked to him about having a device called an LVAD implanted, we know about this as the BIl had one for 18 months or so before his heart transplant. They even suggested to my husband that he sign on with one of NY's big hospitals and live in the hospital for 3 months to a year until a donor heart was found for him. And now they're talking about releasing him later on this week. Don't get me wrong here, I don't want them to keep him forever, lord knows that 25 mile each way drive gets longer every single day, but if his choice is being so fragile that he is living at the hospital or go home to your photographer wife who is not in the least bit equipped to handle either your physical ailments or your cognitive decline then.... how are these two things really the only 2 choices? Seems like polar opposites to me. There must be something in between, no? The kicker is that he is supposed to be released with a vest that has the built in defibrillator. Normally it is worn as a bridge from hospital release to implantation, but I thunk they are thinking that the husband can just wear it long term. They think he is going to be compliant. Hahaha. They don't know the husband. 

 

trauma

When Matt was potty training I met a woman who told me that her kid had been night time trained for over a year. She was very proud that the child had been wearing the same dry pull up for the entire year. 

 

Obviously it traumatized me, since I'm telling you this two decades later. One year of sleeping in the same pull-up. Horrifying. 

The husband is back on the hospital. It's his heart this time and it's so bad that he was transferred from the local hospital to the big university hospital. It doesn't look good for him

edge

I am one raw chaffed ready to explode nerve. 

The husband hasn't been looking or feeling so good, and last week had 2 doctor visits, tomorrow another, which I am quite confident will lead to more, and all of this is happening during my last week in new town before setting off on a teaching adventure at a reservation 1,500 miles away.  I'm nervous about the husband having some kind of medical emergency while I am away. I don't want the boys to have to deal with anything like that. Nervous is a complete and total understatement. I am freaking the fuck out. Part of me can not believe I signed up for this. I mean, I have been watching the man go downhill at an increasing pace over the last 6-10 years. What was I thinking??? I thought I could slip away unnoticed and some magic was going to take care of everyone? I wasn't thinking this one through, that is for sure.

But I reeeaaally want to go. I want to teach , and be my own person who is an artist and a teacher, and be everything that isn't the cook, nurturer, and nurse for this family. I need more in my life than all of the things I do around here. Partly because there is absolutely no outward display of gratitude for anything I do around here. Also, zero gratification, which might be due to lack of appreciation or maybe because society puts no value on it. Who cares? All I know is that I am so so so unhappy. And that just bites. It bites so hard I want to run away and start over somewhere else and be someone else, anything else, anything other than a mother and a wife.

But then there is this nagging sense of responsibility I carry on my shoulders, the one that kept me married to this man I don't know these past dozen or so years. The sense of responsibility that never hired babysitters or asked for help. The sense of responsibility that makes me think "I'll get my own life as soon as...." and just fill in the blanks with everyone in the family growing up and totally abandoning me and the husband reaching his own personal premature demise. 

And I ask myself. Really? Is that all I am entitled to? Was I put on this earth to wait, hand and foot on everyone else, putting my own needs and desires on the back burner until all of theirs are met?  Was I never taught that I am worthy of ... more? Yes, I was never taught I was worthy of anything. That is one huge truth. As a matter of fact, my mother basically believed that my dad (technically step dad) would leave her if she paid us to much attention, spent too much money on us, etc...etc...  I guess that message came through loud and clear to young me, and I am still carrying it today. 

So, here I am. Fifty two years old, pretty damned miserable, married to a brain damaged man who has no sense of what is happening to him, yet can appear almost normal (in a dumb version of his old self) to strangers and other people (like doctors, who he can fool, which frustrates me to no end). And I am the one raising the red flag and sounding the alarm and being treated as if I am Henny Penny screaming about the sky falling, even though it actually is falling for him, only other people aren't seeing it yet. And I'll also add here, that so far this is my absolute least favorite age of mothering. Maybe things will turn around again when the kids get older and hopefully don't hook up with total bitches who turn them against me. (I know people who have had that happen to them!) I am just sitting here hoping that my kids will grow up and either realize I am worth knowing in a grown up to grown up situation or have kids and want their kids to have a grandmother or best case scenario, both of those things combined. But right now? Ages 16-24? I could do without. Though I did have a very nice hour long conversation with Matt on the phone last night that was absolutely lovely. Maybe 24 will be a turning point. 

When Matt decided he wanted to be a Russian Literature major at hipster U I pleaded with him to double major with theater. I told him Russian was a challenge for him and not a passion and a passion is something you want to wake up and do every day for the rest of your life. Russian he would master and then he'd be finished with it. Guess who wants to go to grad school for theater? I told him I'd only say it once. I TOLD YOU SO.

That won't be an issue with Evan since he was practically born wanting to get serious about life. He'll major in something he can build a career off of. However, my huge concern with Evan these days is that he seems to have embraced the absolute worst of growing up (since he was 14 anyways) in new town. Which means he is totally judgmental and completely condescending to anyone who isn't boringly typical. I feel like it is such a small minded way to be, and also so dangerous in a world where people feel free to be their own unique and not fit in the mold selves. I like that about the way the world is going, especially as one who never felt like she swam with the current, and I want him to embrace it so he can be a more tolerant and just plain old NICE person. 

At 16 I feel like Josh is still a big man baby. He is still a work in progress. I reserve any worrying about him, other than his health. He is my chubby kid, and he needs to lose weight. I don't know how to talk to him about his weight because I am afraid of pushing him into an eating disorder. I want him to decide to eat healthier and stop with all the snacking. I think that when Evan goes off to real college in the fall I might clean out the house and only keep good food around. 

In the midst of all of this fitful worrying sweet pea went and got her self skunked the other night. She stinks. It almost pushed me over the edge.