You’re at your happiest moment while I’m at my lowest. How was I not good enough?
Forever changed July 2, 2011
It was like a movie. Only there were no cameras, and no over-zealous director who would pause or stop the commotion that was taking place before me. The nurse realized who we were, gathered up another family member, and placed us in a private room. She said the doctor wanted to speak to us. Grim news?
He walked in the oversized closet wearing jeans, a blue, cotton polo shirt, and the stereotypical white lab coat. He sat down with a nervous smirk on his face. He proceeded to explain that my uncle’s blood pressure was over 300/100. His condition caused a vein to burst in his brain stem. The pressure damaged it beyond repair, and besides the occasional shallow breath, and twitching, my uncle was essentially brain dead. There was nothing he could do.
The next day, with even less sleep under our belts, we made the decision to take him off life support. We rounded yet another family member to the bed, and in a circle, began to say a Catholic series of prayers called The Divine Mercy Chaplet (similar to a rosary). I held his chilled, lifeless hand while he silently died. It was the least I could do.
His chest occasionally rose, then shuddered back down. As we prayed aloud, we could hear the heart monitor sound with each change. First his blood pressure went down, followed by his body temperature. The oxygen levels fell sharply to 0%. Even with such low stats, his heart continued to pump blood. We watched the green spikes rise and fall, until it seemed that someone was playing tug o’ war with the green “rope.” He flatlined- just as we said the last word of the prayer.
Similar to many scenes in the movies, the nurse walked in, shut off the machine, and said “Time of death: 3:30pm.”
I let go of his hand, and sobbed. I had just held the hand of a man while he slipped from this world. This moment in time has forever changed my view of this life.
River Ride May 21, 2011
I am not liking where my life is going. I keep going down this road because it flows like a river- it is easy. But in the process, I am destroying all morals. I feel like I’ve gone too far to turn back. And for the first time in awhile, I am not numb, but I am terrified.
Not yet dead. April 21, 2011
Looking at her lying in that hospital bed, anyone would have guessed that she had passed. The only exception to that thought was her somewhat rhythmic repetition of her chest rising and falling. Every five minutes or so, she would stretch her toes, then relax into the soft cotton of the bed. Her facial features seemed to have melted down each side of her jaundiced face.
It was difficult not preparing my eyes for her death. I pretended she was in a coffin so that maybe when I actually saw her laid out, it wouldn’t shock me as much.
I believe the most disturbing of all of this was the fact that while she lay there, cancer ravaging her body, her brain, and tubes injecting fluid, while others took them out, I will sitting there, mentally picturing my wardrobe, and wondering what dress would look best at her funeral.
You’re a Terrorist April 20, 2011
Untitled April 17, 2011
I am not the bad guy
And I wait. April 13, 2011
I built these walls from an early age after suffering many injustices involving a few people. No child should have to face anything remotely similar. I created a fantasy world where my heart was completely protected.
Then one day, I filled in the moat, fired the guards, and destroyed the walls that I built. I was tired of being alone. I was tired of self-soothing. I was tired of being too protected. I took the time to pretty myself, opened the doors, and waited. I knew that one of two people would approach first. It would either be an assassin or my-one-and-only.
And I am waiting.
I opened myself to all the good in the world. I sought a future in someone’s arms. But, alas, when you open yourself to the good, you set yourself up for the bad. And I am anticipating the worst. There is something about intense psychological pain that reminds you that you are alive. There is something about feeling alive that makes you feel that there is still time to make your life “more perfect.”
All I know is that I am more vulnerable than I have been in so long, and I am terrified. But I am also loving the feeling of being truly alive. There is something so enjoyable about being vulnerable.
And I wait.