Not Panicking

Have you ever felt like you should panic? That’s me right now.

In a couple days I am going to West Virginia. I already have hotel reservations and an appointment with a guy from the local office on aging. I have never done any of this. I have never attempted to move alone before. I don’t know what I am doing.

And part of me just doesn’t care. Is this maturity or burnout? Is there a difference? Sometimes, I think courage is just being too tired to give a damn.

I am emotionally exhausted. I have been caretaking for years now.

I am now the emergency room receptionist that tells the guy with the bleeding arm to wait behind the guy with the bleeding chest, who is standing behind the lady who has stopped breathing. If everything is an emergency, then nothing is an emergency. No human can live on the adrenaline rush of panic forever. At the very least, it causes adrenal failure. It is not sustainable. Eight years ago, there was the stage four cancer. The Huntington’s continues to progress. He might have prostate, thyroid, and/or lung cancer now, but that is impossible to know without actual diagnostic tests, such as CAT scans, biopsies, and the like.

And so I continue to make huge, life-altering decisions in the dark. I am woefully uniformed. And yet I must go on.

Part of me says, “What if he gets sick while I’m gone?” The other part responds, “Well, then he gets sick.” I am no longer willing to put my life on hold just in case something might happen. I am done, on oh-so-many levels. If something happens, my parents can call me on my disposable phone and let me know and I will come home. Otherwise, I will simply continue to make plans for myself and him. If he gets frustrated enough, he can actually talk to me and communicate his feelings. That would be refreshing. I don’t even get much of that anymore. My doing absolutely everything and getting no information or feedback of any kind is the exact opposite of my concept of a marriage. There is really nothing much left.

I guess that’s why I am not scared: I have nothing left to lose. I cannot take care of a house and a sick husband. The house is sold. The next steps are obvious and clear. Not fun, but clear. Panic is for people with something left to lose.

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About cdhoagpurple

I live in Michigan. I was Greek Orthodox (and previously Protestant), but now am more Buddhist than anything. I am single now (through the till-death-do-you-part clause of the marriage contract). My husband Barry was a good man and celebrated 30 years in AA. I am overly educated, with an MBA. My life felt terminally in-limbo while caring for a sick husband, but I am free now. I see all things as being in transition. Impermanence is the ultimate fact of life. Nothing remains the same, good or bad.

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