Have you ever told yourself, I don’t know what to do, but when the time is right, I will know it.
This is how I have been feeling for a while now. I would think differently and probably not even bother writing this so I do not bore you, but it has been some time and my gut keeps saying,.now Terry, now is the time.
I have seen it coming. I can feel his pain. Yet I stand and do nothing but hold on tight for his life.
Yes, I know he can have his shower in bed. Yes, I know things can get much worse. But what concerns me is Al’s livelihood. What will happen to the little bit of spirit once I put the stop sign out.
Al is getting very hard to transfer alone. I keep in mind that I am going to interview a gal tomorrow night to help put him in bed. But that is not the only time he transfers. What about the mornings? What about at his Day Program? What about the risk of putting Al in other people’s hands? What if he falls?
It is here. He is getting too weak to transfer. His legs scream out in pain each time he gives his all to transfer. It may be only three steps but the first one most of the time anymore doesn’t even get taken.
I know the way I send him to Day Program is through multiple medications to get through the day. He has a special wheelchair that lays back so he can nap and keep his swollen feet up.
I can barely do the holding of him any longer. The shower girl is struggling. I know I need to put a stop to the Day Program or cut his hours down, but I am struggling with the words.
I have spoken to Al about cutting down to half-days and he just starts crying. He loves socializing. He doesn’t ever want to stop. He can’t get from me what he needs from someone other than just a sister. He needs his own space and his own friends.
But yet my inner voice says it is time. How do I do it? How can I break his heart? I just don’t think I can pull it off. What will he have left? Home and his TV? At this point I don’t even know if his cars and coca cola could begin to satisfy his inner urge for normalcy.
He told me before his shower, through flowing tears, that he wishes Mom would just stick her arm a little further down to him so he could reach out and grab it. I hate being a pile of mush crap, but once again, I left the shower girl to tend to Al’s tears and I hid in my bedroom crying.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs. Lord, lord hear my cry. I am a coward Lord. Please don’t make me do this to him. I will do anything for you Lord if you just take him home before I have to say no to Day Program. Help me Lord, hear my cries. Take this off of my shoulders Lord. Can’t you see I love him? Don’t you realize it will tear me up inside more than him not going? I beg of you Lord, relieve him. Take him out of his pain. Let him sit near you. Let me know that he is walking again, and most of all Lord, show me a sign that he is smiling.