In the wake of all the terrible news swirling around me these past few weeks (months?), there has got to be hope on the horizon, no?
I mean, the week I spent in Mobile while my Dad recovered from what was successful open heart surgery from a cardiological standpoint was ROUGH. My sister and I were exhausted both emotionally and physically from spending 12 hour days sitting with our Dad, feeding him from his tray, demanding care from the nursing staff when he was too weak to demand it for himself, helping him communicate when he found he no longer could because of the stroke he suffered on recovery day 4. We were filled with fright and worry.
But we are resilient folk. Dad has bounced back tremendously in the days since he’s been discharged into rehab and they anticipate him going “home” in just a few days. My sister and I have returned to our respective homes, grasping at whatever sense of normalcy will get us through each minute of each day. Sure, I’m exhausted and I feel like I have mere shreds left of the coping skills I once had. Even the smallest of daily tasks seem insurmountable at times. But, it’s probably a lot like excercise. Start out small, celebrate the effort, build a little more each day. Of course, I have to cut myself a little bit of slack too. That’s part of the process, right?