I have something on my mind and what better way to figure out what’s up than just write everything out and see if the toast lands butter-side up.
My brother-in-law is very sick. In April 2010 he was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer. They gave him 6 months to a year to live. And if you are any good at math at all, you can deduce that he has more than beaten the year mark, and in fact is still toddling along. He is very sick, goes from chemo to no chemo (when his white blood cells are down too low) and sleeps a lot of the time (very good drugs). He is a very stubborn man. He doesn’t want to die; I believe he has a great deal of fear of death. He was an atheist most of his life and has recently suffered a baptism at the insistence of his wife. He didn’t put up too hard a struggle, though, because, as I say, I believe he is afraid. Personally, I have no fear of death and have had enough experiences to know that this life is not the end of our souls. I have had messages from people I didn’t even know were dead yet. And I have this peaceful feeling about it.
Sorry, a bit off topic. The thing I wanted to discuss was visiting him. My husband needs to go as often as possible, and for some of the visits I have gone with him, tagging along like the fourth wheel to a tricyle. The three of them are good friends and have been for longer than I’ve been around (ten years, fyi). There are three easy chairs in the living room, three easily accessible dining chairs (the fourth is tucked away and is more difficult to get to). The house reeks of cigarette smoke even though nobody smokes anymore, which exacerbates my asthma. And I feel out of place and uncomfortable while I am there and return home with severe asthma after two days there. Actually, I end up in that fourth dining room chair with my laptop, busily writing away, and ignored by them and ignoring them most of the time, though I do help with the kitchen work and anything else that needs doing. So I haven’t gone in a while and feel kind of guilty about it. I am supportive of my husband going, and send pies and food down with him. But somehow, this seems like one of those no-win situations. I care, I really do, but is going down there (2 hour drive) really helping? I don’t know.
At the same time, things at home are pressing. I have things I need or want to do on the weekends, yet when I’m alone at home, I do lose some of my motivation. (Too busy eating ice cream and jumping on the bed, just in case you hadn’t guessed.) So, should I go, feel useless, and come home ill? Stay home, don’t get as much as I wanted accomplished, and wallow in guilt? Ugh. There is probably a better solution, but I am too close to it to see it. I will think about it today, sleep on it tonight, and will wake with the answer, I’m certain of it.
I am an optimist at least. ^_^