Monday, February 22, 2016
The Night Shift
Here I sit at 2 am watching my husband sleep. The hum of the ventilator and the air mattress keep this room from being too quiet. The noise makes me feel like I am loosing my hearing. It's loud and quiet at the same time. He sleeps so peacefully. It's been a difficult few days for him, stomach problems and minor fever. Tonight is the second night that I am nurse. I am not good at sleeping during the day so I've had 4 hours sleep in the last almost two days. I worry about being too tired, it's easier to feel down and overwhelmed. I've already broken my diet fifty times in the last two days. Stress does that. The nurse cancels and I need chocolate. There is no point in fighting it.
It has been three years since Yitzi's diagnosis and we have all changed so much in that time. I wish I was the person I used to be. So full of hope, so certain that our miracle would come any second. By now I feel like I have some version of PTSD. Three years running on fumes. The stress does not lessen ever. The problems become more difficult and we are all exhausted. I can't seem to focus well or remember things. How do people live in panic mode? The human body is not built to be under constant stress. It takes a heavy toll on me. Many days I would rather stay home then attempt a brave face in public. The effort to seem normal is getting unbearable. I find reminders of the life we had everywhere. They are both beautiful and sad to me. Watching fathers play with their kids, husbands and wives going out together, friends marrying off children. I wonder if people appreciate what they have. I try hard to stay away from memories at night. It makes sleep even harder, but tonight sleep is not an option so I have nothing to worry about.