A Rough Week

Y’all! This morning marks seven days of exhausting emotional and physical effort that I absolutely, positively did not anticipate.

This time last week I was looking forward to being at home where I could finish up (way ahead, mind you!) prepping for the soon arrival of my grandjoys for a long visit.

I had nearly finished some major cleaning out and rearranging and figured I’d fiddle around the edges and do the exciting and much more rewarding tasks of gathering craft materials, organizing delicious snack recipes and rounding up fun bath time toys when I got an unexpected phone call.

My very dear friend (more like a sister) fell in her kitchen and broke her back (not her spinal cord, thank the Lord!).

Suddenly everything else was on hold, emergency protocol prevailed and I was swept up in a whirlwind of ambulance transports, emergency rooms and coordinating communication among friends and family members who couldn’t join us in the tiny cubicle while we waited for a doctor to diagnose her condition and determine her treatment.

[By the way, if you haven’t been in an emergency room lately can I just tell you they are overwhelmed, overrun and understaffed. Through no fault of their own, nurses and doctors are working with fewer resources and greater demands than ever before. So (as my Emergency RN daughter says), “Don’t do stupid things!”.]

It took multiple imaging scans and consults to determine that my friend would have to be admitted to the hospital at least for a few days but there were no available rooms. So the waiting continued.

By early Thursday morning she had a room and we began a new round of consultations and physical therapy to figure out the best way forward.

While she was there, I was back and forth.

Driving through rain and city traffic (not my favorite) an hour there and an hour back from my rural home was a real challenge. Getting up and dragging my behind out of bed while my autoimmune disease was acting up was another. Carrying bags and my friend’s prosthetic leg two and a half blocks downtown with my wonky and very painful wrist was yet one more. And can I admit I absolutely HATE face masks???

Let’s just say, it’s been an adventure.

I’m tired.

I’m once again reminded of the fact that I have far less reserve than I had before Dominic died.

Even though I’m stronger and better able to carry the load of grief and handle his absence I still experience a constant and unrelenting level of stress that means I simply do not have the ability to absorb extra demands on my emotions or physical strength like I used to.

And I am also reminded that people think because it’s been eight and a half years that I’m “back to normal”. They see me smiling, laughing, walking in the world like everyone else and assume it’s no big deal to take on additional responsibility.

But it is.

It is still very MUCH a big deal.

I can’t Spend the Same Energy Twice.

I’m not sharing to garner sympathy. I’m sharing because I hope that if you have also had a rough week you won’t feel so alone.

It’s OK to admit we don’t have the same energy or resources we once had.

It’s OK to ask for help.

It’s OK to not be OK.

Author: Melanie

I am a shepherd, wife and mother of four amazing children, three that walk the earth with me and one who lives with Jesus. This is a record of my grief journey and a look into the life I didn't choose. If you are interested in joining a community of bereaved parents leaning on the promises of God in Christ, please like the public Facebook page, "Heartache and Hope: Life After Losing a Child" and join the conversation.

7 thoughts on “A Rough Week”

  1. I totally get it, all I would say is let it out, talk to someone to help carry the load. I didn’t do that and so 19 weeks ago my body and brain just crashed. After 6 weeks in hospital I now face a host of medical appointments because I’ve been left unable to walk properly and have to use a frame. I’m 53. I never thought my life would be like this. My daughter who was 15 went to be with Jesus 3 years ago and the pain is still excruciating.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Phew Melanie, no wonder you are exhausted.
    I can empathise completely, I have had to ‘let go’ some of my Suicide Prevention work as my phyical health has deteriorated (need a new hip due to scoliosis.) I winced at your narrative.

    Sending love across the ocean xx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. It’s hard to balance our passion and calling with our physical limitations, isn’t it? Praying for you dear one as you manage to do just that! I always appreciate your encouragement and comments. ❤


  3. I can totally sympathize with the week you had as I had a similar experience this past March. I was prepping for my semi-annual trip to see my 3 grandsons and my daughter in Arizona, 3 weeks of hugs and fun, art projects, soccer games, horseback riding and cross country meets. Hubby had not been feeling great for a day or two and asked me on Monday night (I was leaving Wednesday) to take him to the emergency room, his pain was extreme! Having always lived in a large city until the past few years I didn’t realize that our small rural hospital wasn’t set up to handle what would turn out to be necessary surgery or that the other hospitals in the area wouldn’t have room for him or that he would be sent 130 miles away by ambulance to be treated. Needless to say it was a long 7 days of driving back and forth, worrying about what the dog was doing at home alone all day (nothing, she was perfect) not getting enough sleep or eating properly which throws my system into free fall.
    Before my Patrick left us nearly 7 years ago this kind of chaos wouldn’t have affected me much, but like so many of us moms, I don’t have the ability to juggle too many balls in the air since he’s been gone. I hope your friend is mending well and that you were able to enjoy your visit with your grands! 💙☘️💛⚾️


  4. Reading this this morning and it really spoke to me – I took care of my son who battled cancer and then the side effects of it for eight years. He passed away last year in March. I completely identify with the physical and mental exhaustion of carrying grief around and thank you for sharing so eloquently -and that no one walks alone

    Liked by 1 person

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