Monday, February 20, 2006
Just 19 hours before we leave for the hospital...
Because I don't know what to do with that. I do know that I can't spend a lot of time with myself right now. The dialogue inside my head degrades too quickly. Those ten minute bathroom visits are just enough time alone to set me on the verge. I end up playing mental movies of all the possible outcomes and complications. There's one thing I've learned from this experience already though. I used to consider myself an optimist, but I've realized that I'm not an overly hopeful person. Call me a realist? I don't know, all I know is that with Alexis' surgery we didn't have time to really understand that her life was on the line, and it honestly never sank in that she might not make it through. This time around, I have to face the realities - and as much as I can hope, I can't seem to believe. It just feels like setting myself up you know? Feels like denial. So somewhere in my subconscious I guess I've decided to "hope for the best and expect the worst" as if that's really going to make it easier or prevent the heartbreak.
And there are so many damn thoughts that go along with it. It isn't all about the obvious emotional stuff. I mean, it's stuff like OK, April (my niece) is pregnant, will I be ready when she delivers (in September) to let her have the crib? Or will I want to keep it forever? Or should I sell it to help pay for the funeral. Christ, the funeral, how am I going to pay for a funeral? and things like How will Terra be if Nova doesn't make it? Will she understand? Of course she won't, so how do I explain it, what words do I use?
And I bounce back and forth between thoughts like that, and the ones that I think are going to help me cope with what he'll go through during recovery. I don't know why, and it probably makes no sense, but the thing I dread seeing the most is the chest tubes to drain the fluid off his chest. That, and wondering how much pain he'll be in once he's awake. I don't want to see him suffering. And chest tubes. . . well, long story, but I know that they hurt, that they're very painful.
And the ventilator. . . he can't cry with a ventilator (actually, he can cry, he just can't make any noise) and I have visions of him being awake and crying and wanting/needing something and not being able to be heard to let anyone know it.
And you know what? I have no idea why I'm going over it all here, so enough. I'm not helping anything at all by obsessing like this, and in public no less.
posted by Erin @
11:50 AM
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