Can I confess to you? Something that comes from a deep, dark place within me that I cannot deal with. It is a place of utter terror. The kind that grabs you by the throat and strangles the life from you. I need someone to talk to and I have no one but you, my few blog friends and followers. I know I am asking a lot from you. I know I am most likely asking too much.
It’s just that last night, I had a terrible nightmare. And at the point where I was about to sit up screaming, my husband whispered in my ear, “I’ve got your back…it’s okay. Go on back to sleep.” I had such a feeling of wonderful peace overcome me and wanted to snuggle up with him. But when I rolled over to nuzzle…of course, there was no husband. Hasn’t been for almost 10 years. But last night, for just a brief second before reality crashed back into focus, I felt as if I wasn’t totally alone. Which was especially special since I’ve been extremely and horribly sick this week.
I have pneumonia in both of the right lobes of my lungs. I seriously thought I might have reached the end my time. I’m still very weak…a week after this started…and am only enough better to type, as of today. Initially, the doctor was going to put me in the hospital. She told me, “You are a very, very, very sick woman.” I knew I was. I had barely been able to drag myself from bed during the weekend to take care of my Schnauzers. I should have gone to urgent care on Thursday evening when my temperature hit 101.6. But I felt a little better Friday, so I kept going, thinking I would shake it off. I was able to work 9 hours instead of my normal 9-1/2…though I was exhausted. But my temperature spiked to 102 Friday night and I started getting a little scared. But not scared enough to cough up the $150 urgent care co-pay I would have had to pay for after-hours care.
I went to work on Monday morning because there were some things I had to do so that everyone could be paid. I only worked 3 hours. Made a doctor’s appointment. My fever was at 101.7 when I arrived at her office. It was 103.5 when I left. I got a mega-powerful-super-antibiotic shot…my first shot in the butt since I was a kid. It HURT! They even put lydocaine in it because they said the antibiotics do tend to burn going in. No exaggeration there…burned like fire! The only reason she let me go home, or so she said, is because people generally are able to rest much better at home (we won’t talk about how insurance companies bar this kind of care unless you are one step from death). But I was to call a friend to come over and stay with me. Uh, right. I can’t even get a friend to do something fun with me. But I simply nodded my head and left her office with an appointment for the next day. Feeling very lost and alone and unwanted. A discard.
Being sick – and alone – has been humiliating and discouraging. Waking – alone – to realize it has been almost 10 years since there was anyone there to reach out to (though he didn’t love me) has been dehumanizing and painful. But these are not the thing that came from the dark place of terror. They simply cracked the door. Set the stage.
The terror that takes the breath away happened this morning, the first morning I have felt a teeny, tiny bit better, as though I actually might live through this and feel okay again. It happened in an instant, when I least expected it. Looking at pictures posted on Facebook. My sweet ex-sister-in-law had posted a picture of herself, her middle daughter and her daughter’s daughter. She captioned it simply “Three Generations.” And in one flash, I crumbled, crushed, broken, buried alive, choking, strangled, my heart beating 250 beats a minute. Because I remember another picture of three generations. Her with her mother and her grandmother. IT WAS ONLY YESTERDAY! What has happened to my life? Where has all the time gone? Panic. Stark terror. Can’t survive this. Unbearable.
Have any of your seen this place before? Where you look forward and there is nothing but darkness. You look backward and there is nothing but darkness. You look at today and there is nothing but darkness.
Oh, God, if this is all there is, please end it now. If this is all my life will ever amount to, please let this pneumonia kill me. I can’t, simply can’t face it. I was young and there was hope. I am old and there is none. I’m so terrified. The pain is too much. I had nothing but a future and some dreams. Now, I have nothing, no future and no dreams. It is too much. It is overwhelming.
I know I am sick in too many ways and worthless and despicable as well. But I need a companion. The God of the universe is just too distant. I need that man who whispers in my ear, “I’ve got your back.” The one who cares if I get better. Who will hold me when I’m scared and tell me I’m not alone…he’s there and we will face it together. God help me, I just can’t keep going forward into the darkness. Not like this. Not alone. Not any more.