Spoke with my psychologist today; I think when one is staring down the barrel of a terminal illness, they should never go it alone. There is so much to face and get through; my disease, ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, otherwise known as Lou Gehrig's Disease, is a progressive and fatal, paralyzing neurologic illness that, inexorably, robs us of our lives, as we know it.
As I have learned, terminal illness also affects everybody around us, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, children, grandchildren, extended family, friends, acquaintances, peers, employers, past all-of-the-aforementions, and you-name-ems, will all have feelings to process. And sometimes they process all over you, as if you don't have enough to deal with. Other times, you're processed right out of people's lives, as if you're contagious. Note: ALS is not contagious and I couldn't give it to you even if I wanted to.
ALS has the added benefits of affecting the brain in many of us, heightening emotions and amping up the impulsivity. My feel goods were very, very good but my feel bads found me winging down the road in my power wheelchair, flipping off an officer of the law. Not my normal means of conflict management, to say the least.
Surprisingly, only mild medicinal help was in order, a bit of Seroquil with a side of Effexor balanced the highs and lows, without altering my basic personality; I still laugh, cry, get angry, feel fearful and hopeful, fill up with love, get indecisive, etc. Thus, I still need occasional help with perspective.
I mentioned that I no longer served a purpose. I wasn't feeling morose or depressed, just a casual statement of fact tinged with faint regret. She reminded me that I do still have a purpose, actually several. I'm still a wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, friend, acquaintance, neighbor, Facebook friend, blogger, etc. I'm a wife to Rod, though I beat myself up for causing him lack of sleep, malnutrition, loss of lifestyle, loss of money and assets, and loss of security. I'm still a daughter to my mother and stepfather, father and stepmother, though I became highly critical of their lack in caring and support after my incapacitation. I'm still mother to Jennifer, who I feel I failed as a child.
Did you hear that?! She reminds me of the good stuff and I add qualifiers.
As I have learned, terminal illness also affects everybody around us, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, children, grandchildren, extended family, friends, acquaintances, peers, employers, past all-of-the-aforementions, and you-name-ems, will all have feelings to process. And sometimes they process all over you, as if you don't have enough to deal with. Other times, you're processed right out of people's lives, as if you're contagious. Note: ALS is not contagious and I couldn't give it to you even if I wanted to.
ALS has the added benefits of affecting the brain in many of us, heightening emotions and amping up the impulsivity. My feel goods were very, very good but my feel bads found me winging down the road in my power wheelchair, flipping off an officer of the law. Not my normal means of conflict management, to say the least.
Surprisingly, only mild medicinal help was in order, a bit of Seroquil with a side of Effexor balanced the highs and lows, without altering my basic personality; I still laugh, cry, get angry, feel fearful and hopeful, fill up with love, get indecisive, etc. Thus, I still need occasional help with perspective.
I mentioned that I no longer served a purpose. I wasn't feeling morose or depressed, just a casual statement of fact tinged with faint regret. She reminded me that I do still have a purpose, actually several. I'm still a wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, friend, acquaintance, neighbor, Facebook friend, blogger, etc. I'm a wife to Rod, though I beat myself up for causing him lack of sleep, malnutrition, loss of lifestyle, loss of money and assets, and loss of security. I'm still a daughter to my mother and stepfather, father and stepmother, though I became highly critical of their lack in caring and support after my incapacitation. I'm still mother to Jennifer, who I feel I failed as a child.
Did you hear that?! She reminds me of the good stuff and I add qualifiers.
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