In case you've been vacationing somewhere under a rock, there has been another tragedy in a summer full of them. Robin Williams killed himself as he lost his battle with severe depression. Yes, I do mean that Robin Williams. That man who brought so much joy to so many of us has fallen in a war with which I am all too familiar. It's not surprising by the standards of losing yet another human being. He suffered from depression which is a disease that can turn deadly without warning. I do not blame him or seek to find fault in anyone. The fact is that he held on as long as he could and then he died.
My first reaction was fear. Fictional depictions of suicide threaten to knock me off my personal window ledge. My second reaction was defiance. I am alive. I am surviving my personal war for another day and not an easy one. It was pain doc day and I was screaming, crying and moaning from the physical pain. I know what happened. My sleep cycle failed me the way it usually does on a pain doc day and I spent time riding in the car. Since then, the pain has subsided a little because I threw the book at it but I hurt too much to sleep which is what I probably need the most. I long for the medicine my mother would give me when I had these horrible attacks of painful nausea. That medicine would make me vomit, settle the pain and put me to sleep all in the right order. I doubt this medicine would do me any good today since I was carried to bed in many of these memories. That suggests a somewhat lower body mass.
I was miserable before I learned of Mr. Williams. I'm not being cold. I don't refer to strangers by their first names and he will always be a stranger to me now. Sometime in the third hour of awful news, I told Melissa that I'd had enough. I needed to do something without the TV on because the tragic news would be on every channel. I knew that she would agree because I told her that this sort of story sets me off every time.
After all, there are cracks in my defenses. I make my share of mistakes or more. Learning that someone has killed himself puts pressure on all those cracks. What if he had the right idea? (He didn't but I'm making a point.) Chiarians are only a few among the many chronically ill patients who wonder every day if we can ask our caregivers and loved ones to put up with us for another day. It's not easy telling myself each day that I will survive. What must it be like for the caregivers who must have doubts that we truly require this level of care?
I'm done with the hypothetical points for a while anyway. My New York family gave me another perspective on the subject today. As regular readers know, Barbara, my sister-in-law, had thyroid cancer. There was a relapse scare but the truth was that radiation is required to eradicate thyroid cancer. Barbara is going through the stress of being sick without Melissa being there to care for her. Judy is filling the role of mother which is appropriate since she is their mother!Melissa. She includes taking care of of her sick daughter.
This probably would have gone on longer but I hurt to the point of being forced to stop. The news from Ferguson, MO has dragged my energy down further. All those poor people who wanted to express their pain were beaten down and gassed. I should just get this posted and rest some more.
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