From Here to There

It only took one week of my being back to work for Rich to fall into depression. Not that I'm diagnosing, I assure you, but I've seen enough commercials for anti-depressants that I feel confident in my observations.

If he's awake when I leave he struggles with tears. When I get home he struggles with tears. Last night after I got home there were a few things I had to get done and he kept asking me if I would come and sit next to him when I was done. The laundry did not get done. I got as much done as I could while he ate the dinner I made him, then I let everything go and sat down beside him and we held hands. He clearly didn't feel like talking but by the time we went to bed he had told me eight times that he had missed me.

I've suggested having someone come in while I'm at work—a friend, family, home health aide. It makes him feel worse so I don't bring it up anymore. When I don't feel well, he's the only one I want so I know how he feels. He never complains and asks for so little. All he wants is me, and the answer is “no”.

So I'm back to drive time crying. I cry all the way to work because I've left him. I cry all the way home because I've missed another day of his life.

I started this blog with the intention of sharing our struggle in a positive, hopeful way for other people who might be going through the same thing. Now it seems to have degenerated into a non-stop pity party and I cannot express how much I hate that and how exhausted I am trying to change it. I do spend all my energy trying to be positive for Rich, positive at work, positive for family and friends (except two who accept me where I am), so by the time I get to the blog I have to release some pressure and purge some negativity. Sorry.

It's very hard feeling helpless. It's hard not being where you're supposed to be, doing what you feel you should be doing. It's hard watching someone you love suffer and struggle, worse when you can't be with them to care for and comfort them. It makes me question our definition of “civilized”. Are we more civilized to live in nice houses and drive nice cars and put our sick and elderly in nursing homes so we can continue to earn the price of such things? More civilized than those who live in huts and care for their loved ones from cradle to grave? I guess I don't know what “civilized” means. I just know that right now I can't be where I want and need to be, and I can't figure out how to get There. But I sure have worked hard to get Here.