Wednesday, December 30, 2009

The thing with depression

Is that it waits for no one or no situation.

I would like to be able to just curl up in a ball and lie under my new heated throw blanket (perfect Christmas present!) and watch thirtysomething dvds and read good memoirs and NOT study for my lipid boards and not deal with patients and read blogs and be sad about our infertility and not try to figure out next steps and just be sad for a while and come out when I feel like it.

But I can't.

My Dad is in the ICU with seizures again. He cannot catch a break. My mother is sobbing into the phone with me and I can barely understand her. My sister is en route and I will likely go tomorrow after work unless things take a turn for the worse. Right now we wait on the neurologist to tell us what is going on. I suspect it is a new medication they tried and it has backfired horribly, but what do I know anymore?

I am learning and learning that the precious time in our lives when things are good--when we can coast--are sometimes very very short. Twenty four hours of bliss with a positive HPT...several hours yesterday when my Dad actually was moved home and things were going really really well until they turned horribly, horribly bad.

Do you ever feel like you are literally going to break into two?


  1. I'm shaking my fist at the universe for how crappy this year has treated you...2009 don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!

    I hope 2010 brings you really good things.

    I'll keep your dad in my thoughts.

  2. That's awful news about your Dad and I'm so sorry that things have taken such an awful turn. You're in my thoughts every day and you are dealing with so much so cut yourself some slack okay? If you feel like curling up under your new heated blanket, let yourself do it, even if only for a half hour. You need to take care of yourself too. Hang in there. I'm hugging you right now.

  3. Ashley *HUGS*.

    My God, your poor Dad. I'm hoping with all my heart that he continues to be the ultimate survivor and pulls out of this. How very frightening and maddening and heartbreaking and all those other "ings" that can't even begin to describe the injustice.

    You hit the nail on the head. The "good" times are so uncertainly brief.

    Sending you all my love and then some. Praying that you're able to grieve for your own losses in a cleansing way.

    (I'm sorry I've been such a stranger. I've been in a weird funk for the past week or so.....didn't feel like blogging/commenting. but now I' back!)

  4. I am so bummed to read this about your dad! I hope that he pulls through and is comfortable again very, very soon.

    Beyond that I keep typing and deleting and typing again, trying to find the right thing to say. But since I'm at a loss right now I'll just send you big hugs and prayers for a much better New Year for you and Mr. LC!!

    ps- I am switching to the half in Feb (I don't have time to prepare for the full and am concerned about getting injured by pushing to hard to quickly) but would still love to see you either on the course or if you want to jog a few with me. Let me know sometime!

  5. So very, very sorry. Thoughts and prayers to you and your family. I hope things turn around soon.

  6. I'm so sorry about your dad; how awful. I really don't have the right words to say.

    I remember in my darkest moments thinking that the world should just stop turning - that time should just stop until I was ready to catch it. And days where my heart hurt so much that literally felt shattered. So, yes, I remember feeling that it was possible to break into 2 pieces and maybe even more.

    There are still days that I miss my brother so much it's tangible; there are days that if I think about what we did to get where we are that I'm astonished.

    I know it will change for you. But I also know it will take so much healing and time and maybe there isn't a right solution today.


  7. FUCK! I'm so angry that the world on your behalf. I just don't understand why why why these things have to be so very hard for some people. (And believe me I've spent a lot of energy thinking about that.) I'm so sorry to hear the latest about your dad. You are so right about things turning on a dime. You just never know. I hope things for your dad turn back around just as quickly.

    You are in my daily thoughts. Take care of yourself.

  8. I second Heather's comment. FUCK, was the first word out of my mouth when I finished your post.

    I'm so sorry about your Dad.


  9. I am so sorry about your Dad. Truly sorry. I'm praying for your entire family. I also can't wait to say goodbye to 2009. I truly hope it's better for your family.

    Wish I was there to give you a hug. You are so much stronger than you ever give yourself credit for...and you're incredibly selfless. God bless you & Mr.LC.

    Hugs from PA!

  10. Have definitely felt that I was going to break in two. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I have broken into at least a few pieces once or twice in my life.

    I know it always seems irrelevant when someone says that you will get through this, but somehow it almost always turns out to be true. I wish I could speed you through that process, get you to the point where you know that you've come out the other side and that things are going to keep getting better.

    Right now this is so much about your Dad that you really can't even separate all those other feelings of loss from the fear of impending loss and THAT is going to make things suck so much that I can't think of one single thing to say that may actually be helpful or encouraging or whatever. Dealing with different levels of loss at once just puts the heart into the most fragile and vulnerable position.

    Give up the studying, if it's too much. Can you take the lipid test later? You can't give up on your Dad, and you have to take care of yourself. Little by little, you'll find yourself feeling less delicate. In the meanwhile, know that I am thinking of you often, sending good wishes for your Dad and, of course, for you.

  11. I am so sorry - that is horrible and I am so sick of you getting bad news - I am thinking of you and I hope that your dad is okay. And that 2010 is better to you than 2009.

  12. I am so sorry for all that you are delaing with. It sucks to be dealt a horrible deck of cards. There are many times that we feel like we could break in half and want to crawl into a hole and die. I get it, I really do. And I sincerely wish that there was something, anything, I could do to help you with it all. (((HUGS)))

  13. Mother F-er. Seriously, this situation calls for sailor-type swearing. (Not that I even know a sailor, let alone if they really swear...?)

    Seriously.... you are not catching a break. You deserve to be able to curl up with books and DVD's and cry and eat oreo truffles and pound your fists. Its almost like you can't even begin to deal w/ YOU because you've got so many other things going on. *sigh*
    I'm so sorry.

  14. Oh God - this is just so unfair. I'm so sorry for everything that has turned out the way it has!

    Sending healing thoughts to your dad, and best wishes for a peaceful 2010.


  15. My thoughts and prayers are with you all tonight. I know what the ICU is, how scary it can be, and I just fret about your dad being there now. My heart goes out to him- he has gone through so much. May 2010 bring him nothing but good health!
    You all have gone through so much in 2009. Don't you just wish you could make those moments of happiness linger forever? Stay strong. Both you & your dad.

  16. I'm so sorry for you and your father. What you are going through is unspeakably painful. It would be difficult no matter when it happened, but the timing just sucks.

    I, too, am beginning to believe that joy is so very fleeting. But, is it for everyone? I look at couples who have children, and eventhough I know they are not immune to tragedy, it certainly seems that joy is a fixture in their daily lives, at least more so than it is in mine. For me, I think I'd rather do without the joy if it's going to be so short-lived... it just makes the aftermath more painful. I'd rather just get the BFN than be taunted by a second line that turns out to be a fraud. It seems more humane to me that way.

  17. Hey, Just came accross your blog. One thing that has helped me with situational depression is fish oil. My therapist said to take 4 (1000 mg each) per day. It helps.

  18. Into a million little pieces...that's what my heart feels like it's breaking into sometimes. I hate that your dad is suffering and that you are suffering because he is suffering, and that it all just sucks right now. One loss is hard enough, but to have your dad's failing health on top of it all seems just more than you should have to handle right now. The only thing I like about ICU is that you know your dad will be watched like a hawk and be getting the best care possible. I hate the regular hospital floors, where you wonder if the nurses are really paying attention to their patients or they are just so overwhelmed that they are just trying to get through the day.

    BTW, I really hope that you will turn off your anonymous commenting. If someone really took the time to read your blog, they would know that a little fish oil isn't going to cure your depression right now.