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Short Term and Long Term

The progress my mother is making is again very good today. She has eaten well, has been assisted by physical therapists to walk a few steps, and she seems to have a willingness again to work to get well. Of all of this I am very, very happy.

This essay though has been titled Short Term and Long Term. I am afraid (as was suggested in a comment) that I am beginning to sound like my brother. And is is quite true... I have become much like him... or more truthfully, I have allowed that aspect of my personality that is like his come through more in my writings during this time of severe emotional upheaval. It is more true than I would care to admit that some of the morose feelings he projects are ones that I, myself also feel, yet have learned to diffuse, or mask to allow more "user friendly feelings to emerge. Even though my baby brother has not been writing at all during this familial crisis, he is also feeling the same sorts of anguish that I have expressed.

You may wonder why I am bringing this up right now, when for all intents and purposes things seem to be on an upswing? They are much better right now, for my mother is improving. Yet, I am also feeling a great deal of trepidation. For all the surprisingly intense joy and bouyancy I felt yesterday, I have now returned to homeostasis or balance in my emotions and I see again how delicate and how chaotic her health picture may still become. I so want for her to regain her strength, want for her to come home, want for her to be able to do her normal routines with us and by herself..... Yet, I also know that she is still very far away from being able to do that yet. Will she need to live at a rehabilitation facility for a week or two or three? If so, will that break her spirit again? Will her health issues stay stable, or will the veer out of control any moment like they have done so often during this hospital stay... I guess I felt so happy in the brief short term positive, that looking more at the long term, and seeing how things are still so very uncertain.... even her actual survival is still not a given at this time. When the euphoria of the initial improvement wore off, I felt even more intensely the worry, the fear, the dissapointment at how the whole of her situation still is.

I wish, I so very wish that I could simply work as hard as I could and that would be able to make her well again. It is the way I am used to making things better.... I work, and work, and work and can work until I collapse if I knew I could save a heartache for a member of my family. My mind always assesses a problem simply by thinking "How or what should I do something to "fix" the problem?" In this way, I have dealt with most all difficulties, fears, and hurts... I tackle the problem by working at it, working to fix it, working to solve it.

No amount of work I do makes a damn bit of difference here. My mother may get better (my hope), but she may not (my fear). I now pray, and pray most every moment I am not teaching or at family meals. This constant, unending prayer is my attempt to "fix" the problem... to go to the ultimate physical support staff. I do not know if my prayers help or not, but as it seems to be nearly the only thing I can "DO" to try to work to make this situation better, that is what I do. Sometimes I think I am pretty damn pathetic.

How do I fix it? Is IT my "mother", my "life", my "family", "myself", or all of the above?

It is probably all of the above, plus many other things I should do that I have not yet done.

I feel as if my upper respiratory infection is returning.

PipeTobacco