The dictionary housed within my computer defines insanity as the state of being seriously mentally ill; madness.
You might find that definition oddly encouraging. You're able to get up, get dressed, go about the day, and manage to take care of what you must. Everything feels so unfamiliar—as though you stepped into another dimension. The state that you might label insanity is really disorientation. You have somehow lost the stake that you always used to nail down reality. That’s why it feels like the ground is shifting under your feet.
You think, "This must be what it feels like to be crazy!"
Relax for a moment and know that you are not going mad! Disoriented, yes. Insane, absolutely not. Life may have heaved a bomb your direction, leading you to believe that everything you knew to be true has disappeared into smoke. Just realize that even though the ground is shifting beneath you, it’s still there. Why not take off your shoes, wiggle your toes and feel the earth. It may feel like standing in sand as the waves sweep in and out around your feet. In spite of your physical size, the ocean erodes the sand right out from under you. If the waves crash hard enough, you might even fall down. Oddly enough, even if you fall, there is still ground under you. Don’t worry about the shape. It will continue to change and it may be different tomorrow than it is today.
You are okay and you’re definitely not going crazy.
…
Chapter 7
Sleep
From the moment my phone rang on Saturday morning, my ability to sleep proportionately diminished with each decision I made about my parents. I’d heard other people describe the disruption of sleep as hospital-head or caregiver’s syndrome. In a sort of oddly comforting way, I appreciated the affirmation that I wasn’t the only person who had experienced this shift. Never before in my life had sleep been so elusive.
Several days after my parents’ admission to the hospital, my body, no longer able to function, kindly collapsed. Sleep briefly took me away from the reality of the hospital, and from talking, thinking, planning, and fearing the unknown. The blessed break didn’t last very long; just long enough to keep me going.
As time marched on I discovered that when I did sleep, I visited a marvelous place where my spirit sometimes quieted enough to receive a bit of clarity. I lost track of the times when I felt as though I were drowning in the ocean of decisions, having no idea what step to take next. Without explanation, in the place between sleep and awakening, reliable answers often bubbled up and upon fully waking, I trusted the guidance.
The stress of caring for my parents never again lessened as, during any twenty-four hour period, there was always more to deal with than humanly possible. Hours turned into days. Days became weeks. Weeks grew into months and months eventually became years. My sleep difficulties continued and ironically, when I finally found the time to sleep, somehow, I seemed to have forgotten how.
…
Reflection
Rest vs. Sleep
You might think that rest and sleep are interchangeable words for the same activity. Go without sleep and your body begins to betray you by systems shutting down and erratic thinking. Your body needs sleep to repair itself and to reset for the next awake-period. Not sleeping is a lot like not eating or drinking. Stop eating, drinking or sleeping and you can’t sustain yourself very long. Sometimes during a time of unusual stress, you may find the ability to sleep nearly impossible. The mind/body doesn’t wind down far enough to let you drift off. So, what can you do if sleep won’t visit you? First of all, don’t worry about going to sleep. Worrying about not sleeping only makes it harder to fall asleep.
Try taking a rest.
Rest does not have to involve sleep but it does require you to stop your activity. Resting allows you to somewhat refresh, relax and recover. Sit for a while and put up your feet. Watch a pointless movie or read a romance novel or a magazine. Better yet, treat yourself to some sort of electronic device that, along with a set of headphones, allows you to enter another world through guided meditation, music, or listening to an audio book. And while you're at it, during these mini-respite breaks, enjoy the side benefit of blocking out noises like the phone and droning conversations.
One other thing—know that eventually sleep will return to you. It might not be the same as before the period of stress, but you will sleep again.
For the time being, just take a rest.
What is without periods of rest
will not endure
− Ovid
…
Chapter 8
Broken Hearts
Sunday morning, 24 hours after my dad entered the hospital, I was summoned by his doctors. Upon arriving I was told that Dad had suffered a heart attack. As if that weren’t enough for Dad’s body to deal with, the intravenous blood-thinning drugs were causing major problems. Nonstop, frightening nose bleeds were just one of the visible side effects.
Recognizing the fear I was attempting to conceal, one of the doctors asked to speak to me. “The dilemma that we’re facing is significant. Your father is now bleeding internally as well as externally—a side effect of the medication we’re using. It’s the best choice that we have, given your father’s heart condition. But now, it’s difficult to say whether it’s helping or hurting him. If we discontinue the drug, he may experience blood clots. If one of those gets to his lung…” His voice trailed off as he seemed to be thinking about what next to say to me.
“If this were your father, what would you do?” I asked.
“That’s really difficult for me to say. We do need you to make a decision about discontinuing the medication. Things are not likely to get better,” he stated.
Evaluating the risk fell in my lap. Dad was understandably overwhelmed by his physical problems and fear. Mom was too weak and confused to comprehend as I tried to explain my conversation with the doctor. Dad was experiencing so many problems that I had little time to think. I had to immediately make a decision—one that felt like my own chest was being crushed. Discontinuing the drugs was my choice. Managing his pain and keeping my dad comfortable became the plan.
There was no new procedure or medication that would fix his heart, or mine.
Mom experienced disorientation and a great deal of anxiety in the hospital. She was fearful that something had happened to my dad and I had not told her. Mom always appeared to be so fragile that I didn’t know how much information to give her. During their 65 year marriage, my dad had always been their decision maker and Mom’s protector. As she and I continued along our path, I discovered that not knowing the truth was much worse for her than dealing with difficult situations head on. With time and patience I began to more fully recognize and understand aspects of my mother’s personality that I had never seen which eventually led us into a much deeper, more loving relationship.
Riding the hospital elevator and making
