The day after chemo is always the hardest. Countless good and bad cells have been killed off, leaving mum weak and lethargic, more than normal. Seeing her like that pains me, and this time it seems to be worse than ever before.
She apologises... for sleeping so much, for being so 'lazy', for being at home all day, for making me feel anxious and worried. I tell her that it's not her fault, that she cannot control how she feels and all the pain that she has. I try to comfort her, to reassure her by stroking her hand once in a while... but nothing seems to placate her mood and her mind.
More and more, I myself feel like I am being tested to the limit. My patience, my compassion, my ability to care, my ability to be strong for someone else's sake... tested and eroded with each passing moment, each passing day, which seem to pass so slowly.
I know that we are only ever constrained and imprisoned by our own minds and perceptions. But being here with mum, the helplessness, is killing me deep inside, really exhausting my body and mind. I try to control my emotions, not let the frustrations and the boredom get to me or show. But at times, my short temper, my raised and anxious voice show how terribly impatient and uncaring I may have become.
How have I become like this? When did I become so concerned about my own wellbeing and happiness that I find it harder and harder to empathise what mum is going through? More and more I find myself wondering how much easier life would be if I did not have to deal with all this. Why can't I be out there having "fun", enjoying my youth, going out, doing what I want to do with my life, instead of being here taking care of mum and being faced with illness and death every day...? Have many opportunities have I had to pass up because I had (or actually, wanted) to come home?
I know, I know it myself it is such a terrible thought to have, and I feel guilty for thinking that way. Mum could never know I have these thoughts, for it would devastate her and make her feel more like she has been a burden to my life throughout these years.
Sometime ago a friend of mine commented that nobody but me has the ability to give up my youth and so much of my time over the years just to be with mum. I still do not regret ever coming back here to be with her, to encourage and support her at critical moments... It was always a decision I made, and I stand by them, and I am in a way glad that I can place mum first above all else and rush back here whenever she needs me (even though she never asked me to). But being back here, with every extended period of time I spend here, and with every passing day, I find myself more and more wanting to get away, wanting to go back to my own life.
Why is that? Perhaps being 'stuck' is my fate, and if I can't get out of it, I should try to 'enjoy' the feelings of confinement and frustration of having to live with mum and live with her condition day in and day out.
If I just tell myself, again and again, that so many others have it so much worse... if I just look at mum and see her frown from pain or groan from her uncontrollable discomfort, I ask myself: how can you even think of yourself or think that you have the worse situation to deal with in life?
No comments:
Post a Comment