Monday, November 20, 2017

Your Dying Spouse 407 - The Hate

I don't resent being terminal, but I do hate what it's doing to me.

I hate the pain in my chest, centered under my arms, that makes typing this, right now, so very had. I have to keep my elbows out, and occasionally turn away to take a few deep and painful breaths.

I hate the pain in my upper abdomen that throws off my balance; I walk tilted to the right, dragging my feet, and yesterday that caused a bad fall in which I landed on something solid...right over the pancreas. You can bet that hurt, and still does. Collected a nice bruise, too.

I hate bruising easily, now, like an over-ripe banana.

I hate incontinence, both bowel and bladder, and I really hate the black blood that I pass. It's a sign, and not a good one.

I hate puking; the heaves really, really hurt, and bleach is my friend. The blood that passes is red.

I hate the systemic pain that makes it an ordeal to hug Barbara. The best I can do is an A-frame hug, and a pat on the back. For her, that is; it hurts too much for her to pat me on the back.

I hate that I can provide Barbara with so little help. I've been able to maintain upper-body strength through a vicious exercise programme (during which I routinely pass out, and puke blood, and it's made me able to take up the slack when Barb's back (hurt in a 2005 car wreck) gives out. I can still carry her, literally. But I can't drive to the store, or go with her to the holiday social functions to which she's been invited. I do make sure that she goes; she needs it.

I can bench-press a Buick, but I can't go to Wal-Mart to get cold medicine for my wife. There is some kind of meaningful irony there, but I'm so tired of meaningful ironies.

I hate the cynicism I feel when I watch The Voice, and hear young people talking about this being the last chance for their dreams. My dream is to function as well tomorrow as I did today, and I now I won't, and I have little patience for those who weep about the possibility that they may not become superstars. And that's wrong; they have a right to their dreams; they don't walk in my boots, and I should not,mentally, force them to do so.

I'm tempted to say, "All this hate...it's poison, and I should just accept the circumstances as God's will, something that I don't yet have the perspective to understand."

Balls.

God hates sin, and illness was brought into the world by Original Sin.

And God hates that. and its effects, right by my side.

Musical accompaniment comes from Creedence, with Bad Moon Rising. Listen, and come along with me. Please.


Please pardon my slow response to comments. I'm doing my best, and your comments are really precious to me.

Still hoping to get the new and improved version of Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart up and running in the near future. Just haven't had the energy to do it yet...but if you would like to read it, please say so in your comment and I'd be glad to send you a PDF (which should fit your Kindle).

I have another blog, "Starting The Day With Grace". The focus is a grace quote from someone you might not expect (like, say Mick Jagger) and a short commentary. I hope you'll join me.



Marley update... been moved to a sanctuary, and Bay County will revise their 'dangerous dog' codes.

WE MADE A DIFFERENCE!

And marley has a Facebook page! Please drop by to see how happy he is today.


If you can, please do leave a comment. I am trying to answer all, and I am failing, but please know this - I read and treasure each one.

Below are my recent releases on Kindle -please excuse their presence in the body of the blog. I haven't the energy to get them up as 'buttons' in the sidebar. You can click on the covers to go to the Amazon links.










6 comments:

  1. We all hate pain and I'm sorry you have so much of it. I wish I had the gift of healing and could take your pain away, but that gift probably wouldn't work over the internet anyway.However I won't stop praying for you. You'll never know this side of Heaven how many people you've influenced by what you write here.

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    1. Jan, your prayers mean the world to me, and I'm not just sayin'. Today was beyond horrible, and this evening worse, but when I close my eyes I see your name, as if written on some prayer-scroll.

      This is so important and heartening, and I am deeply, deeply grateful.

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  2. Andrew, thank you for sharing this post. As hard as it is to read, it helps me know how to pray for you. I see the strength of your heart and the way you encourage people, and it makes me sad to know the severity of what you're enduring.

    Thank you for the reminder that we need to not "diss" others' dreams, even when we don't understand them. We each live from the perspectives of our experiences and how God works in us (those who believe in Him) through them. I liked what you said about not forcing others into my perspective. Good words there my friend.

    And, in closing, I like CCR. For the longest time, I thought the words said, "There's a baboon on the right." ;)

    Praying friend.

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    1. Jeanne, thank you so much for this; it was a very hard post to write, and getting the correct and truthful tone was quite a challenge.

      "There's a baboon on the right..."

      I suppose this will mark me as a nitwit (not unfairly), but for a long time I was wondering why Jesus was curing leopards. I listened a lot more than I read, and there you go.

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  3. So sorry. I don't know how you manage it. In my prayers.

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    1. Dear Norma, I so appreciate your prayers...and the only thing that can overcome the things we hate is the Love to which we, by Grace, remain open.

      That's why I'm still here; not my doing, but His.

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