Illness Erases Time; Grieving Intensifies It

Life lesson: Re-entering life may not be easy, but the chair will become uncomfortable in time.

It’s been a long time since I was physically ill. I caught the upper respiratory seasonal infection several months ago that was going around, but I wouldn’t classify that as really ill.

People react differently, when really ill, or with any kind of illness. When I am really ill, I don’t want anyone around me. I don’t even want them to bring me things. When I have to eat, I stagger to the stove or microwave and make chicken, which I eat with bread. For a drink, I stagger to the refrigerator or sink and get a glass full of something.

When I am really ill, all I want to do is retreat into a dark cave to hibernate, sleep. I want to rest with no people around.

This is hard on my friends or any other people around me. They typically want to help, but I don’t want them around me. It ends up being hard on them. They end up feeling helpless, then angry that I don’t want or accept their help. I don’t care, I just want them to go away.

Real friends understand this and know to leave me alone until I am healed and somewhat civil again. I am fortunate to have a few remaining friends who understand.

Other than my resulting appreciation for their friendship, there are other consequences of illness. Time has gone by. The world has turned. Events have occurred without my knowledge. It is like a giant eraser has swiped over my life. I have lost a week, months or a year.

The same consequences are the result of caring for my wife during her extended illness. As she became more and more ill, we became more and more isolated. It was awkward for others to be in contact and awkward to try and interact with others.

So the consequence of not just the giant eraser swiping a few weeks off my life for a relatively mild illness, that giant eraser swept an entire ten years off my life, and her life. Time passed, taking care of her and her illness, which resulted in more and more fright for her.

I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It wouldn’t have made a difference if she was in a facility. She was my life. My entire focus and being was for her to receive the best care, to be comfortable and to feel safe. The consequence to me following her death was grieving in this new world. I was alone. She was gone. The grief was intense. There was no relief. More time, more erasing.

Attending to her care and well-being was costly to me. A 10-year absence is a long time, during which there was a change in our national leadership, changes in style and a worldwide pandemic occurred. Personal friends died. It all happened out there, though, beyond my awareness or “care-ness.”

Now I am trying to re-enter life. Where can I butt in? It’s like a line at the grocery store. “Don’t even try to get in here. You have to go to the end of the line.” Unfortunately, I’m confused as to where the end of the line is now. My mindset is still where I was ten years ago. The world as I knew it has changed considerably.

It would be much more comfortable to just sit in my chair, let the giant eraser swipe away, and not care if it did.

My inner core and basic mindset, however, is to try to re-enter life, to find the end of the line, or try to butt into the line. I need to determine what is reality out there and go at it.

It sure takes a lot of energy and a lot of risks. Misconceptions, error, rejection, ridicule, and even humiliation, are possible, but with the right mindset, the giant eraser can even swipe those away and our futures can be amazing.

I think I will sit in my chair and rest for just a little while, before I tackle breaking into the line.

Let me know how you are doing. I care.

Sincerely,

Lynn Brooke

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