Dear
On a Personal Note
Perhaps you've
wondered where I went. I've been sending very regular letters... and then about 2 weeks ago, I dropped off the earth. Or so it feels to me.
I had to make a very sudden decision to go back to South Africa. I heard the news that my Dad was admitted to hospital on Saturday 1 October. He's been in and out
a few times this year, so it wasn't new.
But this time it was different. Two weeks later, he was still very ill and I became worried. What if I never had the chance to say goodbye properly?
Jus about then, our Indefinite Leave to Remain residence cards arrived in the mail. And 2 days later, I decided to book a flight 'home', to my parents.
We also heard news that my mom had a
potentially serious health condition. All of it sounded like they'd need more support than we could give them from far away.
I'm so glad I made the decision.
It turns out that my dad has sepsis, from an abscess in his gallbladder. He's been seriously ill, in High Care, for more than 4 weeks. There are other complications like a fungul infection in his lungs coupled with a resistant bacterial bug that frail elderly people often contract, plus infection in the drain wound, as well as pre-existing COPD.
I've been able to spend a lot of time with him in hospital. My sister is also here, and we're getting quality time with my mom, too.
My dad's condition is extremely variable. One day he
looks gravely ill, and the next we think he's going to recover.
In this time, I've had to learn to:
- be okay
with seeing my Dad in great pain and discomfort
- feed him small bits of food
- help him to sip water when he scarcely has the strength to suck water through the straw
- feel calm in myself, no matter how awful my dad is feeling (or how my mom suffers as a result)
- and probably a lot more that I'm not thinking of right now
I've also learned more about
- being more flexible with my days
- accepting (as best I can) that we can't change someone else's path
- trusting that my will is not always best
- surrendering the outcome
- asking for help and support when I need it
- admitting I'm having a hard time through it all
- claiming time for my self-care (like an hour-long beach-walk) so that I can show up again as my best self
- asking my clients for
understanding during this difficult time, when I needed to cancel appointments
- being away from my UK home and husband for a very long time, and possibly longer than the originally intended 3 weeks
- being really, really flexible around how I
thought I had run my business
- and a heck of a lot more!
With all of this going on, there isn't much "business" in this email - just a brief reminder for a workshop I'm excited
about. I'll likely write a few proper articles soon about different aspects of navigating this time.
I've been talking to a dear friend about the dying journey, and the strange, complex time of navigating 2 different worlds:
The 'real' (?) world of the material stuff - where my business lives, and my family and everything else that still needs attention. I still need to buy groceries, earn money, talk to my husband every day (he's in the UK, completing a project).
And then the strange in-between-world that I am also in touch with when I walk down that long hospital passage... when I enter the High Care ward he's in - when he's sometimes conscious and able to speak, and other times not.
There's a sacredness and a stillness to it. There's also a sadness and deep grief. There's a kind of acceptance that we all walk this same path - the body declines and 'falls apart'. There's also the awareness that the body is not all we are (so I still read to him even when he's asleep or not 100% conscious).
And there's the thought in my head that keeps wondering why we have to suffer so very much at the end of our lives. A part of me wonders why we don't "go out with a bang", on top of our game - instead of the painful decline that leaves us with less than ideal memories.
Thank you for listening to my thoughts.
If you're a client who's been patient while I sort out all the uncertainties, a huge,
huge thank you for your kind understanding. I'll be in touch shortly with new arrangements. My deepest gratitude.
Go and hug your loved ones today. Time with them is precious.
I'd love to hear from you if you've dealt with the death of a parent or other loved one. What helped you to navigate this tender road?
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