Thursday, May 10, 2012

When most people think of Hell, they think fire, and demons, and little red men with pitchforks. That is not what I think of. Right now I feel trapped in my own version of Hell, a personal Pergatory. I feel useless and utterly broken. I find myself questioning those I love as they have betrayed me once before and I don’t know how to bring back that trust. I don’t know how to stop the suspicion that he is hiding things from me. I don’t know how to release this hurt. I find myself trapped in this broken body andf no matter how strong my will, no matter how strong my spirit I cannot escape this prison. Its been 17 days since I broke my foot, 16 days since I turned in my crutches for a wheelchair, 14 days since the surgery. It feels like a lifetime has passed and I have another 70 days trapped in this prison that is my own body. I have been confined to one half of my house. There is nothing I can do but wait. Wait for the healing, wait for the aftermath, wait for others to step up. Sit by and watch the bills pile up, watch life pass by. My child is ill and I feel helpless. I cannot “do” anything around here. I am waiting for the fallout. I am trying to face these demons and keep my emotions in check. For someone who is sentenced to be home alone, I haven’t really had alone time. I haven’t had time to grieve the loss of a father figure. I missed his memorial service, I found out about his death on my daughter’s 8 year old birthday. It wasn’t a shock. We found out the day before Valentine’s Day that he was dying. The cancer had been everywhere by the time it was discovered and a man that was the love of my mother’s life for 40 years was fading fast. I didn’t make it down to see him before he died and for that, I will have to find a way to deal with my own guilt. The biggest fear I have had since the day I was diagnosed with MS was that I would end up in a wheelchair. The day I was diagnosed as Primary Progressive, I had to face the fact that there was a 95% chance I will have to face that chair. To some, this is an aid to help them remain mobile. To me, this is a death sentence. This wheelchair may as well be an electric chair.