I’ve been trying to process what’s been going on in my personal life, and to be honest I still don’t really know how I’m feeling about it, or how to go about handling it.
November has been a hard month. My dad has been in and out of the hospital with heart problems. At one point his heart was working at 15% capacity. It all hit out of nowhere. It started out as a trip to the emergency room with an “Eh, we can fix this no problem” diagnosis and some follow ups with specialists. Then it became “Well, this is a bit worse than we thought, but some cardiac rehab and a few meds and we’ll be good to go.” Then it became “Okay, so we’re going do a procedure next week which should fix the issue.” Then that turned into a two week stay at the hospital, several days sedated in the ICU and a probability of in-patient rehab. And we finally landed on getting to go home having home healthcare come in to help him with rehab.
This wasn’t my family’s first brush with scary medical situations (my mom is a cancer survivor), but it was the first time someone went downhill so quickly. There was even a death-bed- well, I wouldn’t call it a confession- but an I-can’t-die-knowing-we-didn’t-talk-about-this conversation. This was the first time we got together to make sure we were all on the same page as far as what someone’s final wishes are. We had to have the hard conversations. This was the first time the hard conversations were more than just theoretical.
Years ago, my sister and I came up with our plan for if/when our parents died. We know who wants what and what we’re going to do with everything else. It was all theoretical, though. Both of our parents were healthy and thriving at the time. My parents knew we had a plan and had their input, too, but it was just a far flung in the future ‘What If’ exercise.
A few weeks ago, we had these conversations with my dad in the hospital. We had the life support yay or nay talk. The who has medical power of attorney talk. The is the will updated talk. And we were serious about it. For all we knew we’d be enacting our plans at any moment.
I’m stuck in this weird I’m-not-falling-apart-but-I’m-not-sure-I’m-okay place. Like, what happens, happens. We can only do so much. I firmly believe that there is a power out there that has a plan and all we can do is our best. Even in the thick of it, when my dad was in the ICU and the news kept getting worse, I wasn’t scared or worried. It just was.
I don’t know if I’m handling this really well or really poorly. Emotionally I think I’m fine but-
I’ve been a homebody.
I haven’t been to kickboxing class.
I haven’t gone for a walk.
I have been eating lots more sweets.
I’ve been going through the wine a bit more quickly that usual.
I haven’t been writing. (This is the most I’ve written all month.)
I’ve been sleeping in more.
I’m not sure what all that means. Is it depression? If so, is it just situational or something more chronic that I’ve never noticed? (depression does run in my family) Is it just a general funk that’ll pass? Is it nothing?
I don’t know.
No clue.
So, I’m working on it.
This week I’ve been working on getting up with my alarm and eating better. Next week, I’m going to get my butt back on the mat.
I’m writing this blog post.
I’m processing.
November has been a hard month. My dad has been in and out of the hospital with heart problems. At one point his heart was working at 15% capacity. It all hit out of nowhere. It started out as a trip to the emergency room with an “Eh, we can fix this no problem” diagnosis and some follow ups with specialists. Then it became “Well, this is a bit worse than we thought, but some cardiac rehab and a few meds and we’ll be good to go.” Then it became “Okay, so we’re going do a procedure next week which should fix the issue.” Then that turned into a two week stay at the hospital, several days sedated in the ICU and a probability of in-patient rehab. And we finally landed on getting to go home having home healthcare come in to help him with rehab.
This wasn’t my family’s first brush with scary medical situations (my mom is a cancer survivor), but it was the first time someone went downhill so quickly. There was even a death-bed- well, I wouldn’t call it a confession- but an I-can’t-die-knowing-we-didn’t-talk-about-this conversation. This was the first time we got together to make sure we were all on the same page as far as what someone’s final wishes are. We had to have the hard conversations. This was the first time the hard conversations were more than just theoretical.
Years ago, my sister and I came up with our plan for if/when our parents died. We know who wants what and what we’re going to do with everything else. It was all theoretical, though. Both of our parents were healthy and thriving at the time. My parents knew we had a plan and had their input, too, but it was just a far flung in the future ‘What If’ exercise.
A few weeks ago, we had these conversations with my dad in the hospital. We had the life support yay or nay talk. The who has medical power of attorney talk. The is the will updated talk. And we were serious about it. For all we knew we’d be enacting our plans at any moment.
I’m stuck in this weird I’m-not-falling-apart-but-I’m-not-sure-I’m-okay place. Like, what happens, happens. We can only do so much. I firmly believe that there is a power out there that has a plan and all we can do is our best. Even in the thick of it, when my dad was in the ICU and the news kept getting worse, I wasn’t scared or worried. It just was.
I don’t know if I’m handling this really well or really poorly. Emotionally I think I’m fine but-
I’ve been a homebody.
I haven’t been to kickboxing class.
I haven’t gone for a walk.
I have been eating lots more sweets.
I’ve been going through the wine a bit more quickly that usual.
I haven’t been writing. (This is the most I’ve written all month.)
I’ve been sleeping in more.
I’m not sure what all that means. Is it depression? If so, is it just situational or something more chronic that I’ve never noticed? (depression does run in my family) Is it just a general funk that’ll pass? Is it nothing?
I don’t know.
No clue.
So, I’m working on it.
This week I’ve been working on getting up with my alarm and eating better. Next week, I’m going to get my butt back on the mat.
I’m writing this blog post.
I’m processing.
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