Emotional Wreck

Yesterday I had to take my dad to the emergency room. He's been having problems breathing properly for a couple of weeks now. Up until yesterday it mostly happened when he was trying to sleep. But yesterday morning he texted me while I was at work saying that he needed to do something. See a doctor. Something. So I called his cardiologist because he'd also been having heart palpitations and some shoulder pain. Cardiologist couldn't fit him in until next week so Daddy chose to go on to the ER. He's typically a very stoic man and sucks it up until he's nearly dead so for him to WANT to go to the ER without any hesitation scared the crap outta me. 

I've been living with the fear of losing him for years. Between all his heart problems, his leukemia, etc. it's not an irrational fear. But ever since my mom passed the fear has heightened so you can imagine the state I was in yesterday. It didn't help, either, that it was around this time in 2020 that I was in the ER with my mom when she was diagnosed with stomach cancer. So yeah, yesterday shaved a few years off my life.

Seeing him hooked up to all the wires and monitors was tough. And then there's texting my sisters, and his sister, and his aunts to let everyone know what was going on and trying to keep everyone calm, including his nearly 90-year-old mom--my beloved Granny. All while trying not to let him know how freaked out and scared I was. And I just kept thinking over and over how I wished Mama was there because I felt so out of my depth trying to keep up with what the nurses were saying and keeping my dad calm and watching him trying to manage his own emotions when I know he was wishing she was there with him, too.

She was our rock. The one with the plan. The take charge of every situation person. I am the bumbling, figure it out as I go along person.

Daddy is mostly okay, by the way. He had some fluid built up around his heart because, apparently, he has developed congestive heart failure which sounds so scary to me but is apparently manageable for the most part. They gave him a diuretic to pull the fluid out and sent us home to follow up with his cardiologist. I checked in on him this morning and he's still having trouble breathing when he sleeps but said for the most part he feels better. His AFib has settled down.

But yesterday really put that fear of losing him to the forefront. As if I wasn't already still struggling with the loss of my mom and Libby. As if I wasn't already feeling completely alone and bereft. Now I am at the very real realization that ONE DAY...hopefully years from now...but one day I'll have to deal with losing him, too. And with his health it will probably be something catastrophic and quick. And since I'm the one who is here, who sees him and checks on him most frequently it will be me who has to handle everything by myself. One sister lives two hours away and freaked the heck out yesterday and the other has a job that doesn't allow her to have her phone with her most of the day. And they've expressed their gratitude to me for helping but also their reluctance to step in and give me a hand because they feel like they're bothering him by checking in on him and they feel excluded because he naturally turns to me for help when he needs it. It's a frustrating situation but also heartbreaking because it leaves me out here on this island. And don't get me wrong...I don't feel burdened by the responsibility. I'm thankful to be able to be here for him...happy that he knows he can count on me. I just feel abandoned. Like, I don't have the luxury of leaning on anyone, really. They both say, "let me know if you need anything or if I can help" but when I've reached out to them I get resistance because they don't know what to do. So instead of helping I just have to figure it out on my own anyway but with the added frustration of having asked for help and not getting it.

And I understand that they are overwhelmed with their own lives. My middle sister is in the thick of raising two teenagers and we all know how stressful that can be. And my oldest sister is struggling with a stressful work environment and a husband whose job has him out of town more often than he's at home. I get it. I am the one without a husband or kids to distract me. It's easier for me to be the one "in charge" of taking care of our dad. And I honestly don't mind. I just feel so lonely and out of my depth.

And then I think about my own health. I probably actually need knee surgery, but I can't imagine having to have any kind of surgery because I don't have anyone to help me during recovery. The last time I had a medical emergency that required help, it was my mom who came to my rescue and then helped me through the recovery. She helped me bathe and wash my hair and brought me food. And I was watching a story on Instagram this morning of a woman who broke her foot/ankle and her mom flew from England to Canada to take care of her while she recuperated and I sat and cried because even though I know with 100% certainty that my mom would have done the same for me, she can't. Because she's gone and can't come back. And my sisters, I'm sorry to say, don't seem to be natural caregivers even though they are both parents. When Mama was so sick, right before she passed, they came that week to be with her and they were HELPLESS when it came to helping her. Even to give her water, they had to call me in to help her. And I don't know if it was because they were just too afraid to do something wrong or just genuinely didn't know what to do...or if she had just gotten so used to me and my dad being the ones helping her that she didn't trust them...but witnessing them being at a loss like that doesn't give me any confidence that I could count on them to help me out if I needed them that way. So I just feel...alone. And a little scared, to be honest, to think that I don't really have anyone I can rely on if I needed it. 

And to add to all that stress and worry, I still feel so lost without Libby. The other day I was watching a vlog on YouTube and the woman in the video was holding her little dog while she talked and the dog leaned in and started kissing her face. I just bawled my eyes out for good long while because I miss those puppy kisses and her sweet face and that companionship so much.

I know a lot of the grief and anxiety I'm feeling right now has a lot to do with the fact that the anniversary of my mom's passing is coming up this weekend. Sunday, to be exact. And those last few days with her have been replaying over and over in my head. I wake up in the middle of the night remembering the last time she hugged me the Tuesday before she passed. It was the last day she was really coherent. And there's so much I wish I had said to her that day while she could still really hear me and understand. So much I wish I had done differently. 

And the realization that it's been two years since she left and I still don't know how to live without her. I still have so many things I wish I could ask her. So many ways I still need her. I suppose, though, that that's something I will always carry with me. I will never not need her. I will never not wish she could help me figure things out. When I am old and on my own death bed I will still be wishing she was with me.

I feel like I'm just a big fat whiney baby right now but I just feel so overwhelmed and scared and depressed and lost.