Pity Party of 1....

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So welcome to a small pity party tonight.

This past month and a half has just plain sucked. My daddy had another heart attack about 6 weeks ago. Luckily, he had it at the hospital during a stress test. They discovered three big blockages and he had open heart surgery the next day. He ended up with a quadruple by-pass. I wanted to go home. (Scratch that, I wanted to RUN home!!) But I couldn't. I was only two weeks post-op myself. Climbing on an airplane or into a car was just not an option for me. So I sat back and called daily and got reports from my mom. And I was helpless. I hate being helpless. I sat and waited for news. Daddy was up and down. He has a multitude of health problems to begin with so surgery was not going to be a picnic. His kidneys have failed before and started to fail again. And I waited. Finally it seemed like he had turned the corner and he was sent home from the hospital. I felt like I could take a deep breath. My recovery was going well. Daddy seemed to be on the right track too, so maybe being so far from home was okay.

Then the bottom dropped out again. My mom called and daddy had just come out of surgery. (again) They had to put in a chest tube. He had a LARGE fluid build-up around the heart. I could hardly breathe. I asked my mom if I needed to come home. (unspoken meaning, is this the end? Do I need to say good-bye?) And even as I asked it, my heart was in my throat. My mom said no, she thought it was okay now. (She also confided that if I had asked that earlier in the week, she would have told me yes) So again, I sat back and waited. And again I felt helpless. This time, the news has not been so good. Yes, once again daddy has turned the corner. He is finally doing better, but the cost has been high. He had an enzyme build-up that caused his muscles to break down. Daddy can't stand. He has just in the last few days actually been able to hold a glass again and feed himself. When he is released from the hospital, he is not going to go home. He is going to have to go to a rehab and undergo intense physical rehab. And again, I want to run home. I want to re-assure myself that he is really doing better. And yet I am scared to see him.

I usually don't mind that I live far from home. I have adjusted and I knew that this is the life I signed on for when I married Jim. But this last month and a half, I hate being so far from home. I am not sure what I think I could accomplish by being there, but I feel the need to be there. Then you add in other factors and being here just sucks. This week was my baby sister's anniversary. My baby sister who lost her husband a year and a half ago. So this has been a very hard week for her. And we have all been so focused on daddy, that we forgot to see her struggling this week. And my heart aches for her. She is finally starting to really feel the loss. For so long she has just kept moving and stayed strong and not really allowed the pain to creep in. But now, with everything else going on, the pain is creeping in and she feels alone. And the big sister in me wants to just be there to hold her and let her cry and let her miss him. And I am not. And I feel helpless.

So, now tonight I sit here. And more than anything, I don't want to be here. I want to be home. I want to see my daddy. I want to hug my sister. I want to cry with my mom. I don't want to be here, alone. But I am. I sit here alone and I cry. I hold all of this pain inside. I hold all of this stress inside. I hold all of this worry inside. And tonight, I am alone and I feel raw. I don't want to be here. I want to go home. But I can't. I have to be the grown-up. I have to take care of the house. I have to take care of the kids. I have to put on a smiley face and pretend like everything is fine. And it's not. And I am alone. And I am just tired of feeling like I am alone all the time. I am tired of pretending and smiling. I am tired of always being strong. I want to go home.