Spider Man Where Are You?


fearDoes fear cause more damage than being alert to the immediate situation? I am thinking that it does to some point. Like a young tree being planted and its delicate roots taking hold and branching out; fear can also branch out in our mind and play havoc at later times.

Last night the fear that I have carried since Al came home would be that he would have one of those internal attacks with me. The second day home he did.

Although I realize that the M.S.A. is responsible for anything that is happening out of the normal for him, it still places the fear in me. It doesn’t help really that I know this could be the last chapters of Al’s life. It doesn’t even really matter that I have not seen this happen not once but now three times, I became afraid for him.

We had a fairly good day yesterday. He was a little crabby but he gets so frustrated. He hates it that he wets himself. He detest that he has to struggle to eat. His foot remained swollen all day and by evening the first signals were given to me.

The terrible sweats. He reminds me of someone who just got out of the shower and hasn’t dried off yet when he sweats. He started complaining about pain in the upper right side of his stomach. Then the number game started. One being the lowest and it rose to five.

I tried three times to put him to bed but he was so weak and my weakness became much more clear when I couldn’t get him in bed. I had to finally call Hospice and they sent help here.

I will be so glad to go to the Day Program tomorrow morning and speak to the manager and get these hours started for help to come in. I have been footing the entire bill since he came home Friday. I have had no help and if you need verification of this; just ask my neck and arms.

The company brought him a transport chair. I like this but the front wheels turn in all directions too often. I end up having to back him up and go forward to just get him over the carpet trim. He gets frustrated and so do I.

So hopefully Spiderspiderman man will save the day starting tomorrow.

The nurse showed up and helped me to put him in bed. She checked him over and called her supervisor. The plan was to give him stronger pain medications and let the internal tremors have their party inside his chest while he slept through it.

But God knew that Al was tired. As soon as we got him comfy he fell asleep within minutes. He did look at the nurse and I could tell  he was trying to tell her thank-you for showing up. She brought him an inner peace and God took care of the rest.

 

Daily Prompt; 1984/ The Daily Post


Phonar Task. By Amber Nichols and Daisy Ware-J...

You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.

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I am locked in a room with my biggest fear of all. It is dark. As I use my fingers for my feet I feel my way. I can feel cracks and rough edges. I can distinguish even lines going back and forth. I believe they are cement blocks. Each feels the same as the prior. Cold and no heart, useless to me, but providing its job of keeping me inside the four walls.

I can feel rough edges of cardboard, but it feels thicker. I try to tear at it and shred  it away from what ever it is hiding. The fibers are too strong, as I feel the piercing of my fragile skin raking across the edges. The heat tells me that my own fresh blood is seeping out of my flesh that holds my soul and entire being together.

As I feel farther I feel cold metal. I run my fingers over the arches and feel smooth cold tubing. With a grit sheath going across from edge to edge, I discover that it is a strong bench. I sit down softly making sure that I have not over estimated its weight. I can feel pricks of metal scorning my thin pants that I have on. No matter what position I place my body, I am freshly pierced once again.

I stand up and walk the fourth wall and it has wrought iron post. I reach as high as my arms will stretch and realize with no doubt that this is iron bars, made to keep me in. Controlled by another human’s touch of the keys being held on the outside of my prison.

The floor is cement as I shuffle my feet along the darkness. There is no heart in its make-up. It shows no compassion for wanting me to be let out. There is no escape. There is no toilet. There is no table or food.

Will I be allowed to die here? Will I starve to death, or hang myself from the fear that is greater than reality. I am locked in this room. The room being my mind that is consumed by my greatest fear, darkness. The mind playing shuffling games, helping me to  believe that what I have here is nothing. No way to escape, but yet if I slow down, take a deep breath and allow the mind to think instead of wander, I could turn the handle attached to the bars and walk out the door to freedom.