The Downside of Up

Life is like the ocean. It can be calm or still, and rough or rigid, but in the end it is always beautiful. 

It is hard to read quotes like these. They suggest that life is grand despite the despair. That everything happens for a reason. That there is beauty amidst the storm. It’s hard to make sense of the craziness, unfairness, the universe’s complete disregard for our hopes and desires. Sometimes life is miserable. Period. Instinctively I become defensive and reject these billboards of false hope. In the midst of emotional turmoil, I dont want to read another meme or inspirational cat poster. This may be the age of millennials, but I dont want a perfect selfie showing everything is okay. Mostly I dont want Dad to be sick and I dont want another doctor to tell me, “we don’t know.”

Yes, I’m frustrated… 

It makes me think though; of a small child, sad and crying. What is our instinct in these moments? I want to scoop the child up, to hug them and tell them everything is going to be ok. That feeling never really goes away. Even though we are a little too big to be scooped up anymore, there is an abundance of family and friends here to hug us and say everything is going to be ok – and it will be. Life wont ever be the same again, but it never is. The beauty isn’t in winning or getting what we want, just like life isn’t about reaching a destination. Dad is here, but wont always be. Hospitals aren’t enjoyable to visit (or live in part time), but this is where the opportunity exists to share thoughts and receive words of wisdom from a remarkable person. 

Yes, I’m sad…

For me, the moments to be cherished are those of unfettered love, pure and whole. It’s the friends and family who are selfless in their support they each show in their own unique way. This is the beauty of the storm. While I would still prefer to not be riding these waves, there are few opportunities in life to learn without doubt how truly loved you are. I hope this fact is not lost on Dad, as the love has yet to cease pouring over him. I can say with certainty that I have felt more widespread love than I would have ever imagined. My Mom has been taken care of by friends and family and we have all been united through this struggle. 

Yes, I’m grateful… 

I suppose this is the part of the post that brings us full circle.  There are various stages of grief, that we dont all go through in the same order – and sometimes we dont go through them all. So, we skipped denial, no sense in going there, and started instead with frustration. Bargaining seemed unlikely so we jumped to sadness. Now, here we are at the fifth stage of grief; acceptance. We are here, now, and there isn’t anything that can change that. There are also things to take note of and appreciate despite it all.

The truth of the matter is that life can be calm or still, and rough or rigid, but in the end it is always beautiful… 

_______________________

I wrote the above a couple weeks ago. I held it, feeling it may not have been the right time as I was still at a low point in this stomach churning roller coaster ride. We are slowly ratcheting back up with loud clanks along the way. Up, nevertheless. Dad has had his NG feeding tube removed from his nose and it was replaced with a more permanent style straight through his abdomen. Ups and downs. He had one of two chest tubes removed, which has helped with some pain, and the other is scheduled to be removed tomorrow. Provided this all goes well, he will be DISCHARCHED from the hospital! This is a major high! Though he wont be coming home quite yet, he will have a layover in Health South, a medical rehab facility focused on rebuilding his strength after such significant atrophy over the last 45 consecutive days in the hospital. 

While it is thrilling to be on this uphill climb, there is a constant nagging fear of the next drop. In life, a drop is always potentially around the corner but potentially not. In Dads case, there is certainty of the coming drop. We just pray it isn’t soon. This rising angst serves as a counter balance to the joy. As such, this post is the Downside of Up rather than the name of Dads site; the Upside of Down. 

To turn this around, to truly see the upside of all this down is to realize to beauty in the end. Perhaps I feel more comfortable with the above post because I can see the truth in the closing of those thoughts above. I am closer now to my Dad than ever before. I leave my phone on the counter to be with Amanda and the kids. I have genuine conversations with my Mom and appreciate grandparents in a new way. Family has rallied. Literally hundreds of people have prayed, some of whom don’t even know Dad personally. There is beauty in this. Beauty I never would have known otherwise. Beauty we must all appreciate if Dads struggle is to be worth anything. 

I ask that you rally with us. Pray. Help push Dad up this hill. Send him words of love and support. Remind him of the beauty amidst this storm, for there are surely more storms to come. 
 

With love and hope,

Richard