Exhausted by Everything

Dearest Rachel –

For all that Dad insists that he’s “ready to go,” and he’s “so weak,” especially after being put through his paces in terms of exercise, the fact remains that he goes through with them and does them without complaint. Well, without much complaint, anyway; the bedsores on his backside, while slowly diminishing, are still there, making it painful for him to even stay sitting up for a prolonged period of time (although I would assume they make lying on his back unpleasant as well, and yet he still does a lot of that).

One nurse back at the hospital told me that she takes it as a good sign when patients complain, however. According to her, it means that they’re a.) lucid and aware of their surroundings, b.) able to determine what it is that’s bothering them, and c.) also able to request a remedy for the problem articulately; all signs of a patient on the mend. If ever there was a glass-half-full attitude toward truculent ‘clients,’ this nurse had it. But her logic makes sense, especially to someone like myself, who’s never thought about these things. And at the same time, Dad’s not the sort to complain much to begin with, so if he says something is wrong, it’s a serious matter requiring attention. Thankfully he’s in a place where he can generally get the attention he needs with the speed he requires – most of the time, anyway, as the holiday staff level sometimes has been long on response time now and again.

Anyway, I apologize for wandering off topic, honey. The point is, while he’s putting in the work to regain his strength and range of motion – in large part so that he can function well enough to return home and live more comfortably there, even if his days of venturing out of the house are essentially over – he admits that the effort involved is extremely wearying. It’s not painful, he insists, but when he’s done walking ten or twenty steps, and sitting up for a half-hour, he’s ready for bed.

Only, he’s not always able to go to sleep straightaway. Not that he’s not able to fall asleep – far from it, in fact – but that he’s surrounded by family and friends now and again throughout the day. His times in the hospital, unlike yours, which was brief and sudden, have been long and drawn-out, allowing everybody in his life (and there are so many people who know and love him) to be aware his situation and take the effort to contact him in one way or another. It’s like he’s the featured guest of his own slow-motion episode of “This Is Your Life,” if you remember the gist of that show, with everyone making a cameo to both wish him well and let him know what a difference he made in their lives. Sometimes, it’s in the form of a text or email; others will call, at which point Mom will put them on speakerphone; and of course, if at all possible, there will be visitors – albeit not too many at once, as we discovered when we were all there last week for his birthday. After spending several hours at a time by his bedside in hospital, it felt strange to be asked to leave after less than an hour, especially on such a milestone day for him. However, having seven people crammed around you has got to be a bit overwhelming, especially when you’ve just moved to a new residence, and in his condition, there was only so much of all of us he could take before having to acknowledge his exhaustion, and sending us on our way.

***

However, he’s not the only one for whom this ordeal has been draining; while I may spend a couple of hours in his room, Mom is at his side throughout the day. It’s understandable, in a way; one could easily see why staying at home in an empty house isn’t preferable to being by her man’s side in a relatively tiny room. While there’s stuff to be done there – such as the bills that Dad makes sure she keeps up with, and a hot dinner on the regular (often a gift from one neighbor or another; both of the folks are that loved and respected by those closest to them) – the relatively wide-open spaces of home aren’t the same without him, and so she seems as comfortable by his side as if she were with him at home. At the same time, there’s the anxiety and uncertainty of Dad’s condition that has at times robbed her of sleep, especially those deepest, darkest times, when it seemed most likely that we would be losing him (his instructions to us on Christmas Eve, as well as that first Monday in hospital, were particularly gut-wrenching).

Jenn has, on occasion, practically ordered Mom to go home and get some sleep, although as Dad has slowly improved yet again, she’s been able to permit herself to do so, even as Jenn and her family are vacationing in Florida as per their holiday tradition. And it’s proven necessary; when Mom sleeps these days, she really sleeps, getting in as many as ten hours at a time – proof that this situation has been every bit as exhausting for her as anyone.

***

With all that being said, it seems almost churlish for me to claim any right to be as tired as they have been. And yet, the body doesn’t lie. Upon getting home from seeing him yesterday, after making a few grocery stops along the way, Daniel and I shared an early dinner (or would it be a late lunch?), watching videos before Logan returned from work and the boys would watch whatever it is they’re into. At this point, I retired to the bedroom, intending to watch a few things on my own, but wound up nodding off. I did wake up a couple hours later (at nine, just so you understand how early it was that I first dozed off), but, still being tired, I simply ventured into the family room to let Daniel know I was just officially calling it a night.

I did wake up one more time, at about three, and made yet another trip to see Daniel, who was still up. I’d planned for the three of us to have breakfast together this morning (to finish off the Christmas soufflé), and I let him know it wouldn’t do for him to sleep until noon, especially since I would need to report to the booth at church (which is a story for tomorrow, if I can put it together for you). I recommended – strongly – that he wrap things up quickly and get to bed, so we could all be awake and together for a little while. After that, I slept for nearly another four hours, having more or less made it around the clock.

Maybe some of this had to do with the fact that I’d put myself through my paces at the gym early yesterday morning, and not as much my having to deal with Dad’s condition. Either way, I was clearly every bit as exhausted as they have been, only perhaps just more acutely. I feel like I’m good to go for now, anyway.

Still, if you could keep an eye on me, honey, and wish me luck, I’d still appreciate it. I’m sure I could benefit from it, all the same.