I almost left...

The older we get, the more prevalent sickness and illness become in our lives, whether in ourselves, or in our loved ones. My family has been no exception.

Fathers, mothers, friends of the family, dogs, cats, etc., chronic illness abounds.

Given the illnesses, the heartbreak, and the loneliness that follows, I cannot say that I've ever really been a caregiver to any of my loved ones who died of chronic illness. The pets maybe, but their illnesses are short lived and end abruptly when we declare it's time. We don't let illness in our pets last years. Well I haven't, others might.

I digress. A couple of years ago, my husband and I were faced with a harsh reality. He was diagnosed. It doesn't matter what it was. The fact that we had a diagnosis meant hardships ahead (probably), impossible odds (maybe), perseverance (hopefully), but most certainly pain, physical for him and emotional for me.

Being thrust into a caregiver role to someone who is not most agreeable person when it comes to imposition, or discomfort, was damaging to my psyche. Expletive filled bellowing echoed through the house frequently.

After his diagnosis, we moved to a more "agreeable" state, one which had better hospitals, better treatments, blah blah blah. So picture me, a 40 something woman packing, moving, searching for a house, unpacking, then comes the cleaning, laundry, appointment taking, chauffeuring, pill dispensing, and all-around "go get it" girl for a grumpy terminally ill grouch of a man. All while working a 9-5. Impossible odds indeed.

The holidays came and went. I don't even remember Thanksgiving, seriously. Christmas was not joyful. We put out a tree, but only put 2 ornaments on it. Those were ornaments we purchased when we moved the prior December. That was it. No tinsel, no bulbs, no angel topper. If it wasn't already lit, I'm pretty sure there would have been no lights either. After the holidays, I went through what some would call an emotional breakdown. January marked 1 year. The absolute worst year of our lives. How could it get any worse?

I had thoughts of leaving, just leave it behind. Leave the sickness, leave the grumpy asshole upstairs to take care of himself. My husband was understandably frustrated, and angry and impatient, but my tanks were running on empty. I had nothing left to give. I started shifting my focus from his every need, to getting the hell out. I rented a storage unit and started discretely moving my treasures out of the house. I found a rental home, scheduled furniture delivery, the whole nine. I had to get out! There was no way we were meant to endure this. He was clearly going to die from this sooner rather than later, I may have a chance of not going down with him if I leave now.

It's surprising and amazing where our minds go when crushed by so much pressure and hopelessness.

It's equally as surprising and amazing how life sucks us back in. Let me rephrase that last statement. At the time it felt like that - like I was being sucked back in. The reality was though, that on the eve of my departure from all this pain, all this misery, I realized, relief from it was not on the other side. Relief from the misery would not be found in me leaving. I'd just be replacing misery with guilt and anger at myself. *Sigh* I can't leave him like this - alone, ill, disabled, helpless.

I stayed, and slowly, over the next few weeks, untangled the web I had weaved to get the hell out of there. Thoughts of leaving dissipated, even though the misery was still there. I was distant with my husband most times. He once hugged me and said "I miss this." I said back to him, "Right now I'm not your wife, I'm your nurse." That one cut deep, but it was the truth. I was an empty vessel whose sole purpose was to care for him. I was along for a terrible, horrific ride. One I didn't sign up for. Well, technically I did with all that "sickness and in health" nonsense. Sickness sure, but frustrated, unappreciative asshole? No. This is what he had become, at least that's how he looked from my perspective.

I almost left....