Quid infantes sumus?

So it was a comparatively good day.  I slept quite a bit off and on and I got some rest.  Obviously I needed it, because I kept falling asleep every five minutes!  I went for a longer walk down the hall and across one of the side halls around the square so pretty good.  Of course I’m increasing pain as I moved more, so more pain meds, and so it goes.  I’m still well under my pain dose from before surgery and I have a new cocktail of meds so we continue to adjust as we go.

It’s Sunday, and I woke up early enough that nobody had yet closed the blinds on the windows at the end of the ward so I saw little streaks of pink light on the ceiling.  I was able to watch a Mass before the nurses started rounds and managed some prayers while it was still.  That was a good and necessary pause before the day unfolded.

As I mentioned before, I’m in a ward for neurosurgical oncology, one of many specializations of which I had been happily unaware.  I mean, when I was first diagnosed with cancer there were no helpful pamphlets with cheerful texts explaining my prognosis, just a nerve wracking time in a waiting room until I was introduced to the doctor who would be my guide through this.  (Incidentally, did you know that doctor originally meant teacher, which meant guide?  Learning new words is fun!). Today, as I was in this ward I realized that the recovery that I was seeing could very well have been my mother’s experience had she woken up after her surgery.  Probably for the first time I was sincerely thankful that she had been spared that.    There are several cases, that I will just give a summary of the conversation snippets I overheard over the past few days. (Each line is a separate patient):

1. She has to be reminded to eat, and to chew. Then to drink water.  Then to pee.
2. She talks, carries on long conversations with people who aren’t there, then cries because they aren’t real.
3. She introduces herself, and a moment later says, “That’s not my name, dear.  I don’t know that person.”
4. “Why am I in prison?  What did I do wrong?”
5. Then everyone relearning how to do basic things, like walking and talking
6. She asked “Do we get breakfast?  When?” (Yes, in about 15 minutes).  Then a minute later, “Don’t we get breakfast?  When?”

I’ve heard people wanting to die before they lose their minds and themselves while unaware that they aren’t themselves any more.  I have expressed clearly (I hope!) that MAiD program is NOT to be discussed with me nor with my caregivers at any stage in my care process.  That’s definitely a private discussion,  and it should not be held at the bedside of the patient, no matter how concerned or caring the social workers are.  It seems like the sort of discussion where the patient has the opportunity, with her family, to be in a more private space away from curious / squeamish neighbours to talk honestly.  Regardless of my own feelings on the topic, there’s strong feelings that’ll need to be expressed and processed so they can heal. My view is shaped by my own cultural heritage and practices and within my journey I am lin a place where this is not a consideration.  We make our own pathway to the the room that’s ours. Mine doesn’t include this option. 
It’s not easy watching these shadows become solid.  I know that I haven’t been here long, and that my view is limited.  These are people who are likely to be able to enjoy their quality of lives of a greater or lesser extent and whose families got together, they are like echoes of what might happen.  
I then imagine my mom that condition after waking damaged .  These are very real discussions that affect relationships, and they remain hovering unless addressed.  My mom was very private so it would have severely distressed her to have someone doing everything for her even if she wasn’t able to manage on her own.  Thankfully we were spared the pain of that conversation about her, as her own person remained intact.

I don’t want to depress anyone, nor to cause your own depression.  I’m stressing that for me, that is not a choice.   I know that there are those who want to maintain control of their lives as long as possible, but for myself, I have spent a lot of time learning how to “let go and let God” and I trust that God will make the greatest use of my life for His glory.  I don’t know what that means, except that it is God’s determination how I serve.  My hope is that I have many more years of service and that I will be a joy in them. Let us face the adventures that He sends , standing tall, rejoicing as a strong woman about to run a race. (Refer to St. Paul for the quote!).  But there is this other quote from the Mahabharata  which I find powerful 

Sorrow comes after happiness, and happiness after sorrow; One does not always suffer sorrow, nor always enjoy happiness.” –  Vyasa, Shanti Parva

They complement each other.  We must face up to whatever is sent in our life because only by accepting it can we progress into a deeper union with God. I’ll leave you with that for now. God bless, and may you glorify Him with your lives.