Please forgive me, but I’m filling time while I wait yet again to see if a loved one makes it through. My sister, Barb, this time, like the last time.
She fell yesterday while trying to walk, an act of pure defiance against the neuro muscular disease that is eating her whole — her ability to walk, control various body functions, talk — her hopes, autonomy, and dignity.
She fell while trying to take a few precarious steps. Not far at all.
Then her knees failed her, something that has not happened before. She went down hard, one leg jammed beneath a piece of furniture.
Her leg breaking — badly.
Now she’s scheduled for surgery.
And we all wait.
We’ve been waiting to see if she’ll continue to stay with us in spite of having to drag herself across the bathroom floor, in spite of how difficult it is to get around in a wheelchair in winter’s snow and ice, in spite of how this god cursed disease has been slowly taking away everything.
Two years ago she did not want to continue to be a “burden.” She did not want to go on knowing that there was no cure, no hope of resurrection, only the on going falling away.
I told her that it was all understandable. The exhaustion, the pills, all of it.
For it is. I would not wish what she has been enduring on anyone.
But I made her promise not to leave me without saying goodby.
I’ve been trying to keep her here ever since with laughter and love and the permission to let it all go.
I don’t know how long she’ll decide to stay with us.
That’s her choice. No one else.
But this most recent fall, the broken leg, the months of rehabilitation, make it all seem closer.
I’m the oldest and I called her “baby” yesterday. I called her “beautiful, sweetheart, honey.” Endearments pouring out while there is still time.
I’ve been here before — grieving before the actual goodby.
There was two years of it when our Mom was dying from cancer.
Years of fear for my child as he endured surgery after surgery, one thing after another. His life seeming so precarious and rare.
A childhood spent wondering if one us would finally fall to one of my mother’s husband’s rages and not get up. Days at school wondering if she was still alive.
I have had practice at this kind of waiting, this mix of powerlessness, grief, terror, rage, and love.
I will handle this, for my sister’s sake, for all our sakes. But i don’t know who I will be if I outlive her.
The only thing that could hurt me more than losing my sister, the one I share nightmares, courage, struggle, and love with, would be losing one of my children or grand babies.
My roots in this world are the ones I love and this beautiful blue Earth. My roots are leaf talk, water song, and how the light changes everything. My roots are those who have my heart.
Woven through it all is my sister — from first memories to what will be the last.
Love is letting go. So is grief
I’m waiting………….
Would you mind waiting with me for a little while?
Update:
My apologies for being slow to reply to all your lovely comments. The phone and email have been busy with calls and messages from family. I will try to thank each and everyone of you. Your caring good thoughts mean the world, not just to me, but to them. Yes, I told them all about you. I do brag on you from time to time you know. :)
Much love, always,
Update 2: They just wheeled her into surgery around five pm. This is going to a long night.
Update 3: She’s in recovery. Surgeon is pleased with how the surgery went. Apparently the main break was like someone took a machete to the bone and sliced it on the diagonal. That’s how my brother in law discribed it. That break was about seven inches up from her ankle. The doctors put a pin in it so the bone would not slide around and could heal. There is a smaller fracture in the other leg bone but that is something that will heal with the help of the cast.
She may be going home tomorrow. We’ll see.
Needless to say, I’m relieved, exhausted, and profoundly grateful and for each and everyone of you. Thank you so much darlins for waiting with me. You are absolutely the best.