Sunday, September 27, 2009
I have tried to write all week and I just can't muster it. I have never known stress like this before and I hope I never will again. I keep telling myself it could be so much worse... like the classmate of DD's who collapsed with a brain tumor last May and then stayed in a coma for the next three months until she finally died last month. That's stress. THAT's unbearable. This, we can cope with. I just haven't figured out how yet, and I'm getting really exhausted trying to fake it.
We went into the hospital not having any clue how long we'd be there, no one ever explaining what to expect or what objective had to be met before we could leave. We watched stupid videos from the 80's about juvenile diabetes, read the literature they gave us, followed the instructions, and just about the time I was about to completely lose my mind, they finally let us go home. I was so relieved to finally get out--like that meant she was safe and healthy. But it was sort of like the day I brought her home after she was born all over again: "Holy Shit, I can't believe they think I know how to take care of her!" I'm fumbling and guessing and hoping I remember shit correctly, on top of still fighting a lingering chest cold... I went back to work the day after we got out of the hospital, and worked every day for the next 7 days. Sending her to her dad's was agonizing, as evidenced by my last entry, but I knew that whether we did it that weekend or this one, I knew that he wouldn't have done anything to learn about what he needed to do to take care of her, and I'd still be expected to sit down and teach him everything he needed to know. Then I have to go through it all over again sending her to school on Monday. No matter how professional and compassionate her teachers may be, none of them are nurses, none of them are her parent, none of them care as much as I do. Sure, they care, but it can't possibly rest on their radar as high as I think it should. How do I know she'll eat properly at lunch? How do I know someone will make sure she checks her blood at the right times? She's a KID, she can't be in charge of this on her own. And what if her brother leaves her when they're walking home and something happens to her? They've been fighting like cats and dogs, it's not out of the question to think he'd run ahead or take another route just to get away from her.
I've been nose-to-the-grindstone for almost 2 weeks now, just trying to get through this, but I've hit a wall and I don't quite know what I'm supposed to be doing or thinking or feeling anymore.
It doesn't help that we're also in the midst of planning a move in the next two weeks, which we're now doubly stressed about due to the sudden loss of income and increased expenses. And Rusty and I have been arguing a lot, too, and right now I feel like I have no center to hold on to. My faith in him is cracked, my confidence in myself is broken, and I'm just struggling to keep going. And when I see it like that in black and white I think, "Gawd, what a melodramatic dork." Things could be so much worse. I would be useless in a REAL crisis.
We went into the hospital not having any clue how long we'd be there, no one ever explaining what to expect or what objective had to be met before we could leave. We watched stupid videos from the 80's about juvenile diabetes, read the literature they gave us, followed the instructions, and just about the time I was about to completely lose my mind, they finally let us go home. I was so relieved to finally get out--like that meant she was safe and healthy. But it was sort of like the day I brought her home after she was born all over again: "Holy Shit, I can't believe they think I know how to take care of her!" I'm fumbling and guessing and hoping I remember shit correctly, on top of still fighting a lingering chest cold... I went back to work the day after we got out of the hospital, and worked every day for the next 7 days. Sending her to her dad's was agonizing, as evidenced by my last entry, but I knew that whether we did it that weekend or this one, I knew that he wouldn't have done anything to learn about what he needed to do to take care of her, and I'd still be expected to sit down and teach him everything he needed to know. Then I have to go through it all over again sending her to school on Monday. No matter how professional and compassionate her teachers may be, none of them are nurses, none of them are her parent, none of them care as much as I do. Sure, they care, but it can't possibly rest on their radar as high as I think it should. How do I know she'll eat properly at lunch? How do I know someone will make sure she checks her blood at the right times? She's a KID, she can't be in charge of this on her own. And what if her brother leaves her when they're walking home and something happens to her? They've been fighting like cats and dogs, it's not out of the question to think he'd run ahead or take another route just to get away from her.
I've been nose-to-the-grindstone for almost 2 weeks now, just trying to get through this, but I've hit a wall and I don't quite know what I'm supposed to be doing or thinking or feeling anymore.
It doesn't help that we're also in the midst of planning a move in the next two weeks, which we're now doubly stressed about due to the sudden loss of income and increased expenses. And Rusty and I have been arguing a lot, too, and right now I feel like I have no center to hold on to. My faith in him is cracked, my confidence in myself is broken, and I'm just struggling to keep going. And when I see it like that in black and white I think, "Gawd, what a melodramatic dork." Things could be so much worse. I would be useless in a REAL crisis.
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