Bleargh!

I was awaken by a phone call at 7 am. The hospital no longer can accommodate the patient and they asked the family to bring him home. The wife phoned the eldest sibling and the eldest sibling meant to phone my husband. But he has gone hiking and his phone was inaccessible.

So, dear Lord, I am put in that position again. The bad guy who makes cruel decisions. The wife wants to bring him to an old folks home. The wiser and elder sibling was consulted but she wanted another opinion. Was supposed to be my hubby’s but since the call was picked up by me, I had to do the dirty job. Anyway, both of us always have the same opinions, most of the time.

The eldest sibling said the wife said money is not a factor to them. She is willing to pay. I personally think, “So what? You think money can solve everything?” but of course, I cannot say it.

Yesterday, I had already told her that she has to learn to face it and find the courage to take care of him, herself. There is no other option. I do not care how they think of me. That I am harsh, insensitive, foolhardy, crazy or idealistic. I had cared for my son before. If I can do it, anyone who loves their loved ones, have to do the same thing. It is the humanly thing to do. The difficult job will one day be our sole comfort and memories that we had done everything for someone we love.

I offered to arrange all the Hospice, Charis or whatever cancer support care to help them. They have to bring him home because they owe him this much. I told them it is unfair to transfer him to palliative care. I know he doesn’t have many days left. And now, they got the idea of an old folks home, stuff money and solve problem.

I hate these bleargh feelings. I have forgotten what’s it like to just live my own life, in my own little happy world. I hate having to decide for someone’s life. I hate having to talk to her and encourage her to do something she is afraid of. My hate is not the hate, hate feelings. It is the bleargh feelings of having to carry these responsibilities.

But I have to do it. I have to play the bad guy with no feelings. I told them to take him home and deal with it. And I no longer care what they will think of me and how easy I say it. I have gotten over the ‘oh my, what will they think of me’ self-esteem problem. If my heart tells me it is right, it is right.

Yesterday evening, I attended the mass (Divinity of the Sacred Heart) and the Gospel reading is from Matthew. “Come to Me all you who are weary…….Cast your burdens on Me……My yoke is gentle and light.” Yeah, right….I could remember the verse by heart but sometimes, it is hard to believe and accept. That is one the of Christians most assuring verse. I want to believe that, Lord. But I think You need to gimme a break, Lord. I have enough. Can I go back to my life where the hardest decision was ‘Should I buy the red shoes or the silver one or both?” Ok, ok, I know You have better things for me to do. Bring it, on. What’s so difficult about dealing with death, huh? What’s so difficult to sit by the bedside of a dying man and tell him to breathe? Bleargh, bleargh, bleargh.

*This should not be written and that’s why I didn’t write it in my personal blog. But bleargh feelings like these have to be unburdened. Blog to me all you who are weary….Cast your burdens on your blog. It is free and therapeutic.