A Bleak Vision of the Future

Dearest Rachel –

So, the last couple of days have been spent at Dad’s bedside for the better part of eight hours; slightly less than half my waking day. It’s the least I could do, given the fact that I don’t have to be at ‘work’ these days. For what it’s worth, it seems that he is yet again on the road to recovery, despite his insistence that, just like everybody else in the world, he’s not getting any younger (and unquestionably getting frailer). I didn’t head home from the hospital yesterday until he had completed his transfer from intensive care to a regular room in the pulmonary wing of the hospital, where he’ll be undergoing physical therapy before being placed in more long-term care elsewhere.

In both rooms, there are a regular flow of nursing staff that come in and go out, checking his vitals and adjusting his medication. The routine sort of thing you’d remember and expect. As a part of their whole ‘bedside manner,’ the various staffers will make small talk with him in particular, asking about him and Mom, and how long they’ve been together. I don’t mind them being impressed with the length of time, but it rankles me when they comment about how rare it is to see a couple together for so long.

Now, it’s not that they’re wrong, even about the cause implied by their tone (that people just aren’t willing to put in the effort to stay together like they used to), but I feel like I’m being singled out when the subject comes up. Intellectually, I know that I’m not; they can’t be expected to know the martial status of myself or my sister, who are there much of the daytime hours. And in any event, their focus is on Dad, as their patient; he then brings Mom into focus by talking about her. By contrast, I’m just… there. I’m not being ignored – although it wouldn’t bother me if I was – I’m just not the focus of their attention. So anything they would say about the remarkable nature of Mom and Dad’s relationship has no reflection on me; unless I’m between them and either him or the instruments they want to use, I have no reflection. I’m essentially invisible.

But of course, I know my situation, and the possibility that you and I could likely have lasted every bit as long together as all that, if it weren’t for your own mortality (and quite possibly mine as well, as I’ve no idea how long I might live yet… more on that in a moment). And as they compliment my parents, I feel a bit exposed for not being in a position to walk in their footsteps. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.

I also can’t help looking at the situation that my dad is in, and wonder what would happen to me if I were to suffer a similar fate. He’s lying there, ready for whatever the Lord has in store for him – whether He means to take him Home shortly, or if He expects him to continue for a little while longer to dispense from his vast wisdom – and I’d like to think I could face that particular fork in the road with similar equanimity. But I would expect that the dilemma is easier to face when, like him, he is surrounded by loved ones on a regular basis. Whether he lives or dies, he has his posterity around him, an assurance that he’s left a mark on the world in a very personal way.

That wouldn’t be the same for me. Oh, I don’t doubt that Daniel would be willing to stop by now and then, but I don’t know how long he would really want to stay at my side, to be honest. And of course, you’re long gone – which would probably be an encouragement for me to let go, and not fight so hard to stay here.

It might not even get to such a point, either. His first crisis, seven years ago, came from when he told Mom that he “didn’t feel so good,” and immediately collapsed onto the bed, vomiting black bile, which prompted her to get him over to the hospital as quickly as possible. With you gone, and ‘Megumi’ nowhere in sight, there’s no one I’m likely to alarm were this to happen to me; I could expect that, if I were to collapse like that (especially given that by then, I expect to be living apart from Daniel), there would be no one to get assistance from in that moment of emergency. That first episode would pretty much be the end of me; I’d only be discovered by a wellness check, days after disappearing from public view – and days after passing away. That thought – as well as that of spending days alone in hospital – strikes me as a bleak vision of the future.

The funny part is, Dad may very well be aware of this, if only from his own perspective. Much like he introduces Mom to the various staffers, bragging on how long they’ve been together, he will also turn to Jenn and me from time to time, thanking us for being there. For all that he’s suffering as he continues to fight for his life, he recognizes that he’s not alone in this battle, even if he’s the only one doing the actual fighting; he has us by his side. Whether it occurs to him that I’m envisioning my future without such a support structure, I couldn’t say, but he’s well aware that his is better than most people’s in this situation.

Of course, this is another case of my staring at the axe in the rafters; who’s to say I’m to be struck by it when it falls? It’s weird to consider that I’m still younger than he was when he first started to take the whole family traveling, back at the turn of the millennium; in theory, I’ve still got plenty of years to enjoy, even if it’s in much more limited company. Should I be spending all that time worrying about dying alone, or just get out there are live until that time comes? I know which answer you’d give me.

Be that as it may, I thought I just let you know about the thoughts going through my head, honey. You can judge for yourself if I’m going overboard with my concerns, but until such time as I truly have to deal with them, I’d appreciate it if you’d continue to keep an eye on me, and wish me well. You can probably see how much I need it.