Mom is a little better, but I am terrified to count this as a plus, because it can all get taken away so quickly. I am still very scared and sad, and I have no one I can tell.
- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O
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Don't look now, but you just found some people to tell.
I see so many messages from you that are full of emotion but speak of isolation, pent-up (and sometimes released) rage, and even what -- if I didn't know better -- would come across as stark, utter loneliness.
You have friends, Ms. A. We may not be the ones you can talk to over your backyard fence or who will be sitting next to you to stop you from having that last, fateful, unwise Long Island Iced Tea that you later use to christen the nurse's station, but we care about you.
Check out that hand-held phone device, the one that wreaks havoc with the biomedical electronics and set the poor pacemaker patient in the next room to fibrillating like a paint shaker. Check out those numbers ... ten digits each, area code first. At least one or two of those numbers will connect you with people who have an interest in your mental and physical well-being, and by association about your Mum and her struggle.
Allison is one of the world's finest overstressed-sad-person-talker-downers, and I speak from long personal experience. I'm not on her level, but I've been known to have cryable shoulders too. Try me. Isolation's hard enough when it's forced on you -- don't build your own pressure cooker and simmer in your own angst soup. TALK. You'd be amazed how therapeutic it can be. That's what friends are for, I have that on good authority -- and if you can't believe Elton John and Dionne Warwick, not to mention Rod Stewart, then who CAN you believe?
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