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Charlotte K Stewart

Writer, Reader, Knitter, Artist

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chronic

My Mom is Dying

I’m having a hard time. This has been the worst Thanksgiving of my life.

Three of my sisters arrived today. Two drove from Florida with my 4-month-old nephew, the youngest sister flew in from North Dakota. There is too much to put here. My head and my heart can’t take what’s going on.

She’s ready to go, in a way. She’s 67. It seems so young. I’m not ready for my mom to leave. I still need her. I wish I could write more but I just can’t. Not yet.

I need prayers, good thoughts, superhuman energy and fortitude not just through her passing, but for the next several months. Losing her means Dad and I will need to move, which sounds okay.

It’s not. Because I need a new knee. Because I have extreme medical care of my own, and can’t lose the crummy excuse for insurance and yucky doctors I need to see regularly to keep existing, myself… I can be of little use to him with cleaning out the house, selling it, etc.

Please I need rest and focus and better health and… I need my mom to be okay but she’s not going to be.

Here’s a pic of the flowers my sisters sent before they knew they’d be coming to town:

Movie Night

Still not feeling great. I’ve managed to write a lot of words this week, though, which feels great. I’m going to watch a movie this evening. Longer post next time, but even taking time or mental energy to post has seemed like too much the past few days. People around me who seem to suck the energy from me when I start to feel a smidge better don’t make it easier.

I think I’ll go see The Accountant. It looks decent.

Busy, Long Day

I got up earlier than usual. Correction: I got up and showered, dressed, and left the house earlier than usual. We had to do a long list of errands, with a goal of being done and home before 1:00. Considering things never seem to go as planned, the fact we got back at 1:15 was impressive.

Accomplishments are measured in a wide variety of ways. Today, I was feeling great that I had been out of bed for a few hours. I helped Mom with things she needed to get done, and I finished some big tasks I needed to do today. We ticked off multiple to-do list chores. I took a break. I watched NASCAR practice for a short time before the day took a downward turn.

Sickness is unpleasant, no matter what it is. I live with chronic illness and constant pain. My “normal” is already on a lower grade of functionality and tolerance than people who are blessed with not having the same issues. I became ill suddenly, and have been all evening. I am a combination of annoyed, stressed, angry, frustrated and indifferent about the fact that there is nothing I can do about it. I get through the best I can, slugging down the pills, sipping the ginger ale or flat cola (which tastes disgusting; carbonation is my friend), nibbling Keebler Club crackers or dry toast (hoping it stays down), and resting.

Always, I hope I feel better as soon as possible. There are things I’d planned to do this evening, which are impossible and/or unpleasant while feeling so ill. I need tomorrow to be smooth, this acute problem in the rearview mirror, so I can get some things done here at home!

I could not write today, but I’m about to settle in and work on it for a short time. I want to read before bed. That will depend on if my eyelids can stave off the sleepiness the meds cause, long enough to get through a chapter or two.

Library Day

I’ve been slacking with this blog the past few days. I’ve been under the weather, to put it mildly. I keep a lot of the day-to-day of my illnesses and conditions private, but they weigh on me. They make getting through migraines or other things that much more stressful and difficult. There are times I can wear my mask and keep going. There are other days, or weeks, when it all becomes too much.

Today, I’m at the library. I feel awful, physically. But, I needed a change of scenery and a different spot to sit for a while. It’s a tough day for me, a highly emotional one. Five years ago today, my best friend at the time, died. She was my very first college roommate. She became one of my best friends in life in the twenty years we knew each other. Time does not make it easier, or less painful, to lose someone close. I was the last friend to see her, the night before her last day in this life. I wish I had known. I wish I could have helped change her decision. I know, I’ve heard it all… that it wasn’t my fault, that she would have died either the same time and/or the same method, at some point, anyway. Those thoughts or words do little to actually comfort a hurting heart.

It’s bad when you go to some sort of group for survivors of suicide, and you don’t even feel welcome, or you don’t fit in. The people go to the group because they long for support and community, in some sense. Everyone shares that commonality, of knowing someone, or being related to someone, who died by suicide. But, the place I went was odder, still; they treated me like I wasn’t connected enough to the person I’d lost. I hadn’t lost a daughter, a sister, a mother, a spouse. NO. I lost my best friend. And, so, I lost the group I thought could help. They made me feel worse.

Now, I’m going to try to write for a while and not think about my dead friend. I have a few great friends who are alive. This isn’t about them. People don’t get replaced. You don’t move one aside and feel the same things for another. Each one gets their own love or place in your life and in your heart. My one friend’s place, her reserved spot, remains open and empty.

That’s all I can write about it now. Back over to my WIP fanfic; I need to get another chapter done ASAP; people are reeling after I posted the last one. I left them hanging on a critical piece of information. I’m getting questions about it, which is great. It means they’re hooked! YES! They care about the characters and the story. They love it almost as much as I do, which feels great.

 

I need to feed the hungry wolves again soon, before they move on to another source. 😉

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