I awoke at 3 am and suddenly remembered that I had told you that I would bring the children to see you before bedtime. The time after dinner slipped away from me, Quinn had homework to do and Tara was cranky and practiced the piano. We all folded laundry and the next thing I knew – it was bedtime – no time of a bath or shower – they needed to get right to bed. Both of them have been hard to get up lately.
I was filled with guilt at 3 am and wanted to call you, right then, to make sure you were all right and not wondering why we never showed. I managed to hold off until 7:30. I figured that the shift change would have been in to see you and you would be awake. The phone rang … a lot. Great, I thought. If you were asleep, you won’t be now and worse you couldn’t even answer the phone because it was likely out of reach. I called the nurses’ station and got them to check the phone then called right back. You answered groggily. You were asleep. I talk to you and Quinn plays the ‘I love you more’ game. I ask Tara if she wants to say good morning. She’s quiet and shakes her head.
I think that you are Tara’s fallen hero.
Tara is slow to get ready for school. When I get back from walking Quinn to school, she is still getting ready. She got another late slip. We have more late slips in these past 3 months then Tara and Quinn have had collectively over both of their school careers.
I can’t catch a break. There seems like I have to have worries. If the worries aren’t about you then I worry about one of the children. I never used to be a worrier … not to this magnitude … I am now. I’m so torn between you and the children …I want to scream.
I make a quick visit to you on the way to work. Marsha is there, making you laugh. I apologize to you about standing you up last night and then waking you up this morning. I think you have forgiven me. Marsha probably got the brunt of your frustration and had you calmed down by the time I got there.
While at work, I got a call from Jane. The social worker. She called to set up a little meeting for tomorrow. Hopefully, we will sort out some of my concerns and a few of hers.
Kristin called later in the day. I had called earlier in the morning to find out what she might know about rehab and when it will happen. She had some information and went over it with me briefly. The rehab uses a scoring system or index out of 100 to assess patients.
Ironically, it seems that there has to be a certain amount to self-sufficiency before you are eligible for rehab. It almost seems like a catch 22 – you have to get better before you can get help. I know I have to take this on blind faith. But it is hard sitting by your side waiting for the ‘real’ recovery to happen. I hope to understand it better tomorrow.
Kristin ends the call on a good note by saying that she had the best session with you today. You sat at the edge of the bed for almost 25 minutes. At the end of 25 minutes, rather then just collapse and flop to your side, you verbally conveyed that you were tired but you still maintained control until you were put back in bed. While you were sitting, you threw a ball back and forth with Jacinda. You tracked her with your eyes, even when she moved to your left.
That’s good news. I feel a lot better about things. Kristin ventured, at my insistence that you may be in Colchester hospital until after Christmas. We might even be able to get a pass so that we can have you at home during some of the holidays. I promised I wouldn’t hold her to this. I have come to realize that the future is always unclear.
Tara and I have arranged to do some Christmas things together in the afternoon. She is looking forward to it. We spend an hour after work and school, revamping a advent calendar that she made a few years ago. She seemed happy. I feel like I ripped her off. This isn’t how we did fun stuff before. Carefully scheduled fun stuff – doesn’t seem all that fun.
After a failed trip to the Flu vaccine clinic (they were already booked for the night), we decide to visit you for an hour before bedtime. You and Quinn bond over a fierce game of War with cards. Meanwhile, Tara sits off in the corner and does her homework. She does pick up her choir book and asked me to close the door so she can sing to you. She sings an Irish song, ‘Christmas in Killlarney’, thinking that you would like it. You are too busy playing with Quinn to really comment.
I don’t blame you for this. I think it is hard for you to multi task and relate to both children at the same time. It’s probably a little over stimulating. They don’t understand this. When we leave, Tara leaves without even kissing you good bye. Quinn give you a big hug and kiss and threatens you with more card game domination. As I leave, I suggest that we try to find some time where you can spend a little one on one time with Tara.
Tonight after bedtime, Tara gets out of bed and says, “I’ve been trying to sleep for 20 minutes and I can’t sleep but I’m so tired. I think I need some medicine to help me sleep.” Now I am really worried about Tara. I talked about my concerns and showed her the Santa letter to Marianne. She made some good suggestions, which I will follow up on tomorrow.