A literal description of my state of mind
A literal description of my state of mind
If you’ve read any of these, then you know what its all about. This is the personal stuff, the things I need to vent about or get off my chest in an attempt to de-stress myself. I do a little of that inside the extended entry. Read it or not, it’s up to you.
We've had our first "I don't want to be a bother" lecture. After all our time together we've gotten good at it, so all in all it goes rather smoothly. Here's how it works:
Liz has put together this long list of things that she needs to do before going into the hospital. That's fine, because usually I can do at least half of those errands myself. But now Liz is beginning to fret about "being a bother". She's reluctant to ask for anything at all, and her standard answer to most questions has become "I'm ok".
This is all familiar territory. Tonight I let her know that her "I don't want to be a bother" attitude is a bother. It pisses me off. Regardless of her good intentions (and they are), this whole situation is going to be a pain in the butt. It's going to be inconvenient as hell for me, and Mookie, and most of all for Liz herself. It's not a good thing, or a bad thing, it merely is.
Someone wise once wrote about finding a lion in your kitchen, and how instead of worrying about how it got there or how much trouble it was going to cause, the best thing to do was to accept it as fact and just deal with the lion.
She needed to be reminded of that.
Liz is also worried because starting tomorrow she's not supposed to take any more of her regular meds. Her doctor has prescribed serious narcotics to take for the pain this week prior to surgery. She won't take many of them though, because Liz refuses to get hooked on painkillers.
No bother at all sweetie. We'll manage just fine, all of us together.
Posted by Ted at November 29, 2003 07:56 PM | TrackBackNot to be a bother, but do we know what ails Liz? Was it mentioned and I missed it? Is it something preferred to be left unmentioned?
Either way: all the best for you and yours. Here's to a swimmingly successful operation! *glug*
I understand her, though, in not wanting to be a bother. When I was in the hospital recently (and recovering at home), I tried to do as much for myself as humanly possible, and my friends let me know that my independent streak was pissing them off. It's hard to give up (incrementally or all at once) things that used to come so easily for you. And sometimes it hurts to see people doing those things that you never gave a thought to before.
But Liz is so lucky to have you there always. I had to do for myself because most times, nobody was around, or I had to wait until they were done with work or whatever they had to do until I could have something done for me. Feeling powerless just eats away at you, but it really is nice to have someone who cares enough to take over when you yourself just can't do whatever needs to be done.
Both my grandmother and great-grandmother became bedridden in their later years -- these were feisty women who never, ever depended on anyone. But at some point, both reached the point where they were simply grateful for whatever help we could give them, even though it was a constant reminder of their fragile states. Even though we're the ones who are stressed out about practically having to beg them to do something for them, it allows them to kind of keep some of their power, reminding us that they would be more than happy to do for themselves, if only they could.
In any event, Liz sounds like one incredible lady, and I wish her all the love and luck in the world during this incredibly difficult time!
Posted by: Dawn at November 30, 2003 07:04 AM