adjective: deprived of the power of sensation, verb: deprive of feeling or responsiveness
With everything that has happened over the last 5 days I keep trying to figure out how I’m feeling. Just to be prepared for the dreaded question. And it’s not really the question, it’s how it’s asked. There are certain people that ask with such sad faces and tilted heads and soft voices and it drives me up the wall. Like, lets be real. You don’t really care that much. I appreciate that you care how I’m doing but really lets stop with the sad faces. how is your dejected face supposed to make me feel any better? All I’m asking is for you to be real with me.
Last Thursday I had a bit of a mental breakdown because Whiskey (mine and my sisters cat) stopped eating the day before and I was afraid there was nothing we could do for her this time. I was right. she continued to decline throughout the day and night. I was actually surprised that she made it through the night. an even into the afternoon on Friday. I went to check on her about 3pm and she was laying in the orchard under the orange tree. she picked up her head and looked towards me when I called her name, but when I asked her to come to me she just let out this awfully troubled cry. my heart shattered. I burst into tears and called my mom.
“she’s still alive..but she’s suffering, I can’t watch her like this anymore”
we hung up and she called the county shelter and then called me back.
“take her to the shelter, they’ll do it for at most 30 dollars, but you have to be there before 4.”
It was 3:30
Margaret and I jumped in the car and drove there as fast as I could, after panicking that they wouldn’t take her because we didn’t get the paperwork until after 4, we handed her off to the vet tech and he asked us to wait a few minutes while they did a quick thorough exam. We waited on this bench in the shade that sat against the veterinary building for what seemed like forever. A different vet tech came out and explained to us all of Whiskeys symptoms, all of which I was well aware of, and reassured me that putting her down was the fairest thing we would do for her.
I pet her on the head as she slowly drifted into sleep and sobbed once she was gone.
I was in shock when we got home and just went into some mode where I got rid of everything that was hers before I had any feeling come back.
I was mentally numb.
I laid on the couch pretty much all day Saturday, feeling ill, and mentally exhausted. I was in and out of sleep until about 4pm when I finally got up to eat something. I let the dogs inside and hungout with them until it was bed time. I gave them each a cookie and a toy, and the three of us headed up stairs to bed.
Sunday I had to be at church pretty much all day, I think I held it together pretty well. No one asked how I was, or if they did I don’t remember. I just blocked out all sensation of feeling anything, and in turn blocked out a lot of interactions with people.
I got home and had a text from my sister, asking how long I would be at church, I ignored it and waited for the second one. she asked, or maybe i should ask what are you doing after church?
I texted her back (a rare occasion) “I’m home, but I just want to be alone”
the numbness was waring off, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I went up to my bed and smothered my face in the plethora of pillows so the neighbors couldn’t hear me scream. I cried and cried and cried until I remembered that my mom and matt would be home the next morning. I showered and clean up a little bit. I watched tv and brought the dogs in again. Mercy slept on my bed as usual, and Grace on her bed. Monday morning I got up at 4am. I really didn’t sleep. at all. I let the dogs out and fed them. fed the cat. wait. no. she’s gone. I burst into tears and walked inside. I had to take that pill of numbness to get up and clean the house. Thank you Jesus that it lasted until today. I cleaned the entire house and took the real pill that makes me sick everyday. I laid on the couch trying not to puke until they got home at 12pm.
This morning I was doing ok. until my mom came up to tell me, “I have a sad story to tell you..”
in my head I was already preparing myself to be numb to whoever died.
“you know matty hickman?” “yes..” “he was in a car accident..”
my mouth fell open and I turned away as she finished the sentence “…he died”
I burt into tears yet again. I can’t believe it.
It still hurts. my heart is constantly breaking.
is that what the chest pain is from?
I don’t know if I’m being strong or numb.
I feel like I can’t be strong anymore.
Being numb is probably the easiest thing I can do.
If you are still reading these things, thank you.
a little update on myself: I had another endoscopy last Tuesday and I am still waiting for answers on the biopsies. I have a followup on Friday, hopefully we will get something then. The antibiotics I was put on three weeks ago are almost gone, thank God. They have made my abdominal pain worse, gave me diarrhea, made the nausea come back, and made me lethargic. Today wasn’t too bad. just the chest pain was what really bothered me. My knee is still super unstable so Im finally going to request for the MRI again. If I could just play hockey again I think I wouldn’t be as depressed. but I can’t yet. So I’m trying to be positive but everything around me seems to be falling apart. I just need a copious amount of prayer. And Jesus. I need a lot of Jesus.