I dread the winters, with the icy coldness and the wetness of the snow. And yet I admire the pristine beauty of it. My feelings for snow is definitely a love hate relationship.
With the coming of another winter and a new year, it brings me back to last winter. Last winter was perhaps one of the most depressing winters I had experienced in years. In dealing with my son, in the last 8 years, I isolated myself from old acquaintances and focused only on Jeff. For family support, I had only one close relative (my granddaughter) All my other relatives, and children were in another state. Jeff as usual repeated the pattern of refusing to take his medication. And no matter how much I begged him to take it, all my pleading fell on deaf ears. Without the medication the paranoia, disruptive thoughts, and bizarre behavior would come back. I hated to admit that, when he was off his medication I was some what afraid of him. And in the process of undergoing chemotherapy, I was just to weak and to sick to continue caring for him. With the help of my granddaughter, for the fourth time, he was admitted back to the hospital.
I called every day to check on him, and I was told that he refused to reply to anyone. Just the thought of his forlornness put me in great despair. Looking back at the discovery of the sparse entries in my journal of late 2008 to early 2009. I must of been to sick and depressed to keep it up.
I spent most of my days surfing the net in search of information about medicaid waiver's, and other facilities, in hopes of getting my son out of the hospital, and in a better living situation. At that present time, little did I know that he would have to be in the state hospital for at least 6 months before he would even be considered for a medicaid waiver. And none of those agencies were about to tell me that, or anything else I needed to know. It would of been nice if I had an education in health and human service resources, or even a friend that knew the in's and outs around the system.
Almost every day was dismal, icy, and cold, with one snow storm on top of the other. Most days the driving, and the walking was treacherous, and I think I fell on the ice about 5 times. After I was finished with my chemo, I waited for the decent days to go shopping. When I did shop, I stocked up with groceries for a month, and then I hibernated for weeks.
I remember one night when it was snowing, and I let Daisy out for her last evening jaunt. We live on the edge of the woods, so she has plenty of space to roam, and she generally only stays out for about 15 minutes. When she didn't come back in 30 minutes I began to worry. After an hour went by I put on my winter clothes, and grabbed a flash light. I walked way down the old railroad path calling her name, but she was no where to be seen. After awhile I was so exhausted I sat down on an old stump, and I felt like falling asleep right there, in the snow. And I think I did fall asleep for a few moments, until I was suddenly wakened by some whimpering, and the licking of a warm, wet, tongue on my cheek. I was so happy to see her, I didn't find Daisy that night she found me, and on the way back she was walking very slow. When we finally got home I noticed she was limping, so something must of happened to her that night.
The next morning I was looking out the window, down the trail where I had walked, hoping to see Daisy's tracks, showing where she had come from. But it had snowed through the night, so all our tracks were covered. As I stared out at the falling snow, covering our footprints. I wondered how many of us will leave memorable footprints, when we leave this earth. Will anyone search for our footprints, will anyone care?
I looked forward to saying goodbye to old man winter, but unfortunately up here in Northern New Hampshire he dallied along the way. And when spring finally arrived, mother nature brought us more rain then we needed. We were lucky to get 2 months of summer. Once the snow and ice was gone, come hell or high water, I made up my mind I was going out to meet the world again. When I was at the hospital for one of my follow up visits, I came across an advertisement for the Alternative Life Support Center. This support center is a group of regular nonprofessional, everyday people, serving as staff members that have received treatment for, problems with anxiety, bipolar and depression. So they understand mental illness, and the unfair stigma that follows it. I joined the center, took part in group discussions, and helped out with bake sales. I made friends, and received helpful information in dealing with the system. About 3 months ago I was asked to work there (part time-2 days a week) as a staff member. At first with all the chaos I was dealing with in getting my son in a proper facility, I didn't think I could do it. But the team leader said "we'll work around it" So I thought, I'll give it a try. If I had known I had meylofibrosis, I probably would of said "oh gosh no way". So here I am, after retirement age, not in the best of health, with a job I like, Jeff is finally in the brain injury facility I fought so hard to get him in (and I pray he can stay there) So when I have been given the final word, that the medicaid waiver has been increased I will be thankful for that.
So much has happened since last November. It's been a struggle and a journey from 2008 through 2009. The process for Jeff and me has been a long, hard, lonely, journey. But I came through the other side, and I'm still here. My only regret is that, where Jeff refuses to take his medication, I can no longer manage his illness.
Well meaning Christians will often say
"god never gives us more then we can handle" But that saying never really gave me much comfort. I would prefer the quote
"what doesn't kill, you makes you stronger"
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