When life gets too painful or too frightening or too overwhelming, we can cope by wrapping up in a big warm blanket of denial, and smile, keep busy, act normal. Maybe it's psychological self-defense to stick your head in the sand and pretend problems don't exist and that everything will work out, but that's really, really tough for me. I want to do all I can, the best I can.
Jimmy says I'm a fretter. Guilty. ( He does admit that I don't hold a candle to his sweet mother in the fretting department. All of her world-class, Olympic gold medal winning anxieties were focused on Jimmy, her only child, until the grandchildren came along. We put on a big charade for almost a year after he was diagnosed with cancer, to keep her from finding out and worrying herself into an early grave.) My children accuse me of worrying too much. Guilty on that count, too, but I just can't seem to adopt a laissez-faire attitude toward the people I love.
When Jimmy and I were spending months in the hospital, I monitored his every medication, his every procedure - and probably drove the nurses crazy. As good as his healthcare providers are, human mistakes do happen, hence the hyper-vigilance, and my need to stay informed and aware and alert.
Balance is the key. Maybe I can find it somewhere between blissful ignorance and running everybody around me nuts.
No comments:
Post a Comment