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To People Who Refuse To Wear Masks, a thread of hopes, Part II of II:
I hope you’re good at waiting, you’ll spend a lot of time doing so. On hold, waiting for test results, waiting for specialist appointments, for surgeons to emerge, waiting and waiting and waiting.
I hope you’re good at waiting, you’ll spend a lot of time doing so. On hold, waiting for test results, waiting for specialist appointments, for surgeons to emerge, waiting and waiting and waiting.
I hope you have a strong bladder (speaking of waiting). your need to pee falls below the bottom of the to-do list.
I hope you’re good at juggling, bc the rest of life doesn’t stop. And all those other emergencies everyone experiences, health and otherwise? They still happen. And sometimes Loved One has a crisis at the same time other Loved One has a crisis and other Loved One has the flu.
I hope you have a lot of space in your home, with hallways wide enough for assistive devices and an entire extra room for the needed medical supplies and medications.
I hope you don’t need a large social network. All those people who were there for you when Loved One had their first medical crisis? Most disappear when those crises keep occurring.
I hope you find two great online friends in a similar situation. You need more in common than the medical mayhem for them to really be friends, and you need more than one for those times when two of you are having a crisis at the same time.
Don’t worry, they don’t need to live in the same neighborhood, or even the same country, you won’t be able to get together anyway.
I hope you have self control, so you can smile and nod when the 800th person tells you you look tired, you need a spa day, and you want to scream in their well meaning faces that what you need is a cave. Or at least someone else to take a turn cleaning the bathroom.
Or running the IV with that stupid med that runs so slow you wonder if someone is fucking with you and actually filled the bag with baby oil instead of antibiotic.
I hope you have self control, so you don’t strangle the next person who tells you to take care of yourself so you can continue taking care of Loved One. By the fifth year of this life, you’re very clear this is your only value.
Again, self control, so you don’t scream and howl at the many who either don’t understand what chronic means, and therefore think resolved crisis = all good now, or who insist on saying so because bepositive.
I hope you understand by the tenth year and the umpteenth crisis, they all meld together a bit, and every emergency holds the weight of all those that came before.
I hope you keep your cool when someone tells you they know just what you’re going through: they took care of their loved one for six months, or their kiddo had strep throat 2x this winter, or they understand how you felt in the neuro PICU with kiddo because their dog has seizures
I hope you have no unrealized creative dreams, because there is no you anymore, let alone creative you. And if creative you does find some space, well, where’s it going? Creative submissions = rejection, and you are already clear on just how Not Enough you are.
I hope you have a sense of humor, so you can laugh at the absurdity of the human body, our medical system, and what is now your life.
I hope you know how to cry quietly and stop quickly.
