The other week I had my annual check up with my doctor in Georgia. She said the numbers of my last round of blood work ups were so good she didn’t even order new tests. I try to make my physical health a priority so this was good to hear. It’s especially important for those recently widowed to understand this as early on as possible.
Ten years ago I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s Disease, affecting my autoimmune system. I’m fortunate that medication and good health practice have worked so well for me that technically I’m in “remission”.
Just before getting the right diagnosis and treatment, I was in very bad shape and my doc back in New Jersey said I was in the state of Myxedema coma, basically a zombie, and referred to me as “A Walking Miracle” when he shared my case with his interns who stared at my chart in amazement. Hashimoto’s is a relatively common diagnosis, yet many have not heard of it and like me, don’t seek help soon enough. Someone once said to me, “They must think up new diseases every day now.” I educated her to the fact that Hashimoto’s was categorized in 1909.
My doctor in Georgia had been Rich’s physician and they had gotten along so well. In a way, that’s been a good thing for me because she knows my physical and emotional background and life experience for the past four years, a benchmark of sorts.
Then she asked me how I was really doing and I prattled off the latest news of the passing of my parents and my move to Florida and the process of estate settling, new puppy, etc. I mentioned that I’d been so enmeshed in the care needs of both my parents for so long, however, that I felt untethered, off-balance, lost.
My mom had come to stay with me literally the day after Rich passed and both my mother and father had lived with me at some point and also resided in Assisted Living Facilities not far from my home. Until late February, there was never a day when I didn’t speak with one of them, or dealt with a matter affecting them. Now I have the sad task of handling estate matters which of course is a daily reminder that they are missing from my life.
When I was done relaying all of this to my doctor she asked, “You know about distraction, right?”
She pointed out that the frenzy of activities involved in caring for my parents while freshly grieving the loss of Rich, and now dealing with the aftermath of those losses, would eventually subside. With those distractions lessened, some people experience what is called delayed grief.
Everyone handles loss differently. For me, keeping busy has been my coping strategy – not letting the recent, and not-so, heavy events of my life keep me from powering through and living on. But sometimes we need to just take a break. I’m learning to “appreciate” just what’s gone on in the past four months, if not the last four years. Like most who’ve experienced major loss, it’s emotionally exhausting to “show up on the page” some days, but we do our best even if it is just by sweeping the floor, making up the bed, walking the dog.
Last week I nearly forgot that the Great Eclipse was upon us. Home alone, I’d walked out on the dock to take some photos as a way to record the moment.
Gazing at the lake and house beyond, it felt good to be happily distracted by such a rare event and to be grounded in a special moment, quietly present for a natural phenomenon that had gotten so much media hype and dramatic coverage.
I’d read a post where a recently widowed woman wrote that she hated the eclipse. I understood that what she really hated was that her beloved husband wasn’t there to share it with her. It was another Great Reminder. Even if there is someone new sharing your life and making plans, however, there will always be times when we are truly alone and we can learn to navigate those moments more adeptly with time. It’s the sun-dappled breaks along a dark canopied road that make us appreciate the beauty of a road that seems to go on forever.
Here’s to embracing all the beautiful and sometimes challenging distractions we’re sure to face each day, and to knowing when to pause and rest in between and to appreciate how far we’ve come.
