the inner crazies revealed…

My grandfather is home from the hospital, though the doctors are still closely monitoring him and his heart. My parents are scheduled to visit in another week, and I’d rather they didn’t so that they can stay close to home to be there if my grandparents need them, but I can’t bring myself to say ‘don’t visit.’

I posted for a promotion at work, again, and got turned down, again. A new position was created within my department at work, doing something I really excel at within the job description, and I expressed an interest. Got turned down for that one as well. I’m beginning to see that my supervisor, while not hurting me in any sense, isn’t so much going out of his way to help me either (his fave got the position).

I’m discouraged because I’m finding that just being good at my job isn’t enough.

I’m frustrated by my continually messy house. I’m annoyed at my slower than desired weightloss.

I am tired and worn out, sad and angry, irrational and sentimental. I feel like a giant, exposed, raw nerve.

Which is fitting since at the heart of this mixed-up, unhappy soup that is me at the moment is a tangled mass of potentially raw, exposed nerves.

Last month, they diagnosed my friend, Mandy, with a rare and aggressive form of Multiple Sclerosis. In the last six weeks, she’s gone from being this bright, vibrant woman whom I talked to every day to a woman who can’t say the days of the week in order. There are days when I honesty cannot fully wrap my mind around all that is happening.

Mike and I spent the weekend taking turns texting with her husband, Josh, about DNRs and how to approach it when the time comes. In six weeks, she’s arrived at the point Mike’s mom arrived at after 40 years (Mike’s mom died of MS). And at that point, Mike’s mom was about two years away from death.

Mandy’s been in the hospital more than out, and they’re beginning a therapy treatment for her on Friday that carries huge risks. But, at this point, she doesn’t really have anything to lose. And how awful is it to say that?!

Mandy’s essentially non-responsive most of the time, which I think is good. I prefer to think that she’s not aware of what’s going on. But then, Josh told me she sat up this morning and asked for a copy of the newspaper. Surely that’s not unresponsive! So where is my faith that I’m thinking these other things?

It’s this awful up and down situation in which some days she seems not right but not awful and then other days, she can’t tell you if one or two is the larger number.

It’s really hard to think that if the treatment doesn’t make dramatic changes in her cognitive abilities, she could die… soon. And I want the treatment to either work really well or not work at all because I don’t want her and Josh and … us … in this never-ending limbo of uncertainty. And what a rotten friend am I to think that?

Mike and I are both trying so hard to be there for Josh because as much as we love Mandy, Josh is where our hearts are right now. I started a FB group for them, and I send out emails to the group every day to let them know what’s going on, so Josh doesn’t have to do that. But that means I get lots of emails every day from people telling me how wonderful she is, which is good, but draining nonetheless.

Mike says I don’t have to respond to every email, but I feel like I do. I want people to know how much we appreciate their love and concern. But I’m so tired. It’s the last thing I do at night and the first thing I do in the morning, and how awful am I to think about it that way when Josh goes to sleep in a hospital recliner every night, and his daughter hasn’t slept at home in forever.

And we haven’t even begun to tell Griff about the severity of Mandy’s illness. He grew up with her, loves her like family. He will be crushed when he finds out how ill she is. We’ve never lied to him, and we won’t start now, but we are trying to give him information slowly.

Mandy’s 30 years old and has a toddler. I don’t want her to die, but I don’t want her to live like this either. I watched Mike’s mom die, and I would never want that for Mandy. I’m praying for God’s will, praying that He won’t make this harder on Mandy and Josh than it already is. I’m tired of people telling me that God has a plan and that this is all for good. I know that. But it doesn’t feel good at all right now. It feels like waiting for a friend to die.

It feels like not believing in hope again. It feels like a general, unrelenting sadness.

Filed under Faith, Most Everything | Permalink |
Tagged with: Josh • Mandy • MS