trains, pain, and nightime wanderings
Well, it's 4:30 in the morning and I am wide awake. My brother got stung by a bee 2 days ago and as per usual the MRSA has gone straight to the site on his arm and is causing massive pain and swelling. My brother in agony woke my mother who then called me and both of them came over for advice; most of which my brother immediately rejected. He has such a strong hatred of emergency rooms and hospitals after all his surgeries etc. that you can't get him to go to one unless he is nearly unconscious. So the alternative was just some temporary moderate relief. Each time he has an injury or even a scratch the MRSA hits the area immediately. He has to go back on the strong antibiotics and those will wreak havoc with his kidneys within 48 hours, giving him additional problems to deal with. We apply epsom salt warm soak packs to the area to draw the poison out of the injury site and to relieve swelling. Each time Mom and he forget that this is what actually seems to relieve some of the severe pain and I have to tell them again how to do. They will be at the pain clinic doc at 8 a.m. this morning to see if they can adjust his meds. I can't go with them because I have all the prep for the Eastern Star Sweetheart breakfast to get done tomorrow. And by the time they have been here twice- I am too wide awake to consider sleeping, yet too physically tired to accomplish any house work.
It is so hard to encourage my brother at times like this. He can't do any of the things he used to be able to do without suffering pain . He has about 50% normal use of his hip and the function is probably not going to improve much more. Each bout of MRSA takes a greater toll on his spirit. There are so many ordinary things he can't do now, like swimming in a pool, since he is never completely free of MRSA boils -seems like he always has one that is in the healing stage. He can no longer do so many of the things that he felt defined him as a person of value and is just tired of the constant battle with the pain.
Each time we go through another bout of this, I find it harder and harder to give him the right words of encouragement. We have such very different views of life. I have lived with mild to moderate pain for about 14 years now. I have fairly good pain tolerance and have learned methods to deal with it without pain killers for the most part. I have adjusted to the limits the pain and medical problems have given me. Since compared to the pain level he has had and the limits and changes to his life my problems are a cake walk, it makes anything I would suggest seem ludicrous. Even though I tell him that obviously he still has a purpose to fulfill in this life or God would bring him home; it lacks the conviction it should. I am still having trouble with why I have to continue the journey without Steve.
I wish that I had the wisdom to give him the right advice, when listening is just not enough - it makes me feel so very helpless. It is so painful to watch someone you love become despondent. The toll his illness takes on my Mom is unbelievable. She will worry about this child of hers with her last breath. She has not slept all night in several days.
Dad of course is so hard of hearing, that he never even knows when my brother is awake and in need of help.
It was just a day or so ago that I wrote that I had to stop whining and suck it up to get on with things that need to be done. I'm not whining, just really worried and even more than before admire the courage and phenomenal strength of spirit that Sherri had every day of her life. What an amazing woman!
A train is going by with all it's requisite clatter. I hate the way it breaks the still deep silence of the night. Ahh, it is fading away and already I can feel the peaceful cocoon of the night enfolding me again. I am being visited by the owl again. For about 5 years now, a great horned owl comes to visit twice a year for a week or two. His deep throated whoos can be heard in the bedroom late at night and evoke such interesting images of him. I have never actually seen him, which makes the sound all the more entrancing.
Tomorrow begins the marathon cleaning of the chaos I call a house. I think the house has taken on a life of it's own. I swear it cheers when I walk out the door. I know it must be plotting how to sabotoge my cleaning efforts each time I become motivated to work on it.
Since I don't have shovel to scoop the mess out with, I guess a pod to shovel it all into, is not a workable idea. I sincerely believe that the house has gremlins - where are house elfs when you need them??
Poor Sam has had a rough night as well, After all, he was fed before I left for Star tonight, needed a snack as a reward for protecting the house when I returned home. Then when Mom and my brother came over, he had to come protect me from evil, and needed another smallish bite to eat. Then 1/2 hour later when my Mom came to the side door, he had to at least check to make sure that side of the house was safe and try to convince me that I should go to the front porch and give him one more bite or two as a reward for watching Mom cross the street. I declined to go to the front porch for his last attempt at conning me out of treats. I told him to go back to sleep - somebody should get some rest. He just meowed and then sauntered back to his hidey hole. This cat has enough personality for the both of us.
Well having poured out my mind and heart in this rambling diatribe, I thing I will turn on a Harry Potter movie, fix a cup of hot tea and immerse myself in magic for a couple of hours until my alarm goes off.
It is so hard to encourage my brother at times like this. He can't do any of the things he used to be able to do without suffering pain . He has about 50% normal use of his hip and the function is probably not going to improve much more. Each bout of MRSA takes a greater toll on his spirit. There are so many ordinary things he can't do now, like swimming in a pool, since he is never completely free of MRSA boils -seems like he always has one that is in the healing stage. He can no longer do so many of the things that he felt defined him as a person of value and is just tired of the constant battle with the pain.
Each time we go through another bout of this, I find it harder and harder to give him the right words of encouragement. We have such very different views of life. I have lived with mild to moderate pain for about 14 years now. I have fairly good pain tolerance and have learned methods to deal with it without pain killers for the most part. I have adjusted to the limits the pain and medical problems have given me. Since compared to the pain level he has had and the limits and changes to his life my problems are a cake walk, it makes anything I would suggest seem ludicrous. Even though I tell him that obviously he still has a purpose to fulfill in this life or God would bring him home; it lacks the conviction it should. I am still having trouble with why I have to continue the journey without Steve.
I wish that I had the wisdom to give him the right advice, when listening is just not enough - it makes me feel so very helpless. It is so painful to watch someone you love become despondent. The toll his illness takes on my Mom is unbelievable. She will worry about this child of hers with her last breath. She has not slept all night in several days.
Dad of course is so hard of hearing, that he never even knows when my brother is awake and in need of help.
It was just a day or so ago that I wrote that I had to stop whining and suck it up to get on with things that need to be done. I'm not whining, just really worried and even more than before admire the courage and phenomenal strength of spirit that Sherri had every day of her life. What an amazing woman!
A train is going by with all it's requisite clatter. I hate the way it breaks the still deep silence of the night. Ahh, it is fading away and already I can feel the peaceful cocoon of the night enfolding me again. I am being visited by the owl again. For about 5 years now, a great horned owl comes to visit twice a year for a week or two. His deep throated whoos can be heard in the bedroom late at night and evoke such interesting images of him. I have never actually seen him, which makes the sound all the more entrancing.
Tomorrow begins the marathon cleaning of the chaos I call a house. I think the house has taken on a life of it's own. I swear it cheers when I walk out the door. I know it must be plotting how to sabotoge my cleaning efforts each time I become motivated to work on it.
Since I don't have shovel to scoop the mess out with, I guess a pod to shovel it all into, is not a workable idea. I sincerely believe that the house has gremlins - where are house elfs when you need them??
Poor Sam has had a rough night as well, After all, he was fed before I left for Star tonight, needed a snack as a reward for protecting the house when I returned home. Then when Mom and my brother came over, he had to come protect me from evil, and needed another smallish bite to eat. Then 1/2 hour later when my Mom came to the side door, he had to at least check to make sure that side of the house was safe and try to convince me that I should go to the front porch and give him one more bite or two as a reward for watching Mom cross the street. I declined to go to the front porch for his last attempt at conning me out of treats. I told him to go back to sleep - somebody should get some rest. He just meowed and then sauntered back to his hidey hole. This cat has enough personality for the both of us.
Well having poured out my mind and heart in this rambling diatribe, I thing I will turn on a Harry Potter movie, fix a cup of hot tea and immerse myself in magic for a couple of hours until my alarm goes off.