Dad continues to weaken. There is no quick fix. There may not be a fix at all. It is unspoken in the family, but each one of us know the reality. Mom lives it 24-7. Julie lives it everyday after work and the weekends. I live it one to two times a week and the weekends. We don't have to say it out loud. Our hearts know it.
It seems like each week that passes we have to make some sort of small, but often significant, change. We have moved from using a cane to prompting Dad to use a walker. We have gone from his recliner to a lift chair. Mom now helps Dad with his medicine by placing it in his mouth to assure it gets there. And last night we turned a corner about Dad being able to sit out on his beloved patio.
Dad's last appointment showed that he has experienced some infarctions, aka, strokes. At least two. By symptoms he has displayed recently, he may still be having small ones that we are unaware of. Yesterday was evidence of how those strokes have impacted his time on the patio. After enjoying an afternoon sitting out in this wonderful, autumn weather, it was time to come in. Dad couldn't. It was scary. We contemplated calling the FD to help us. Even with Mom, Juju, Boy and myself on the patio, we were not getting Dad to make the connection to move his feet where they needed to go in order to get him back in the house. We have a wheelchair and ramp, but due to the incompetence's of a "recommended" (by Main Street Azle Home Health) handy man, it would take a person much stronger than any of those present to get Dad up the ramp and into the house. Ironic. It would take a guy as strong as my Dad used to be to get someone up that ramp. Eventually, with all four of us helping Dad, supporting his weight, and encouraging/telling him where to move each foot we made it inside. Never in a million years would I have pictured the ordeal that I just went through. Never. It hit me like a ton of bricks. This is not going in the direction that we have prayed for. Begged for. Hoped for. Wished for. How can this be happening to us.
With Mom and Dad settled in for the evening, I headed out to Juju's house. I spend either Friday or Saturday with her to cut down on the miles driven back and forth to my home. I owe her a day of laundry for all of the towels and wash cloths that I have used and a day of vacuuming for all of the hair that drops out of my head onto her floor. I tried to read a book to take my mind off of the fact, that after tonight, Dad's patio time might be very limited. Or gone. Reading didn't help so I just turned out the light and let the exhaustion take me into a fitful sleep.
When I get to Mom's this morning to stay with Dad, while she goes to church, I picked up the copy of "Jesus Calling" that I had given Dad when he was first in the hospital for chemo. I used to read it faithfully but as I have grown weary in this fight, I grew weary reading the words of someone else telling me to keep the faith. To be honest, after reading today's passage, my first instinct was to take the book and throw it outside. It was a slap. A hard slap. Delivered from the words of Jesus.
The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. Remember that all good things- your possessions, your family and friends, your health and abilities, your time- are gifts from Me. Instead of feeling entitled to all these blessings, respond to them with gratitude. Be prepared to let go of anything I take from you, but never let go of My hand.
I am pretty sure that was the slap heard around the world. If God is trying to get me to prepare my heart, guess what? I don't want to. I still want to throw that book out the door. I know that this time is a gift from God. But I want more. I want more the way things USED to be. I don't want to have to have "new normals". So yeah. I heard the message loud and clear. God gives and God takes away. I am just begging that He stops taking the little things. And the big things for that matter. I will cling to His hand. But being prepared is a lot to ask.
No comments:
Post a Comment