The Scab

Remember when you were little and you were running around maybe being chased by a friend, laughing your head off and then you stumbled over something and you fell down? Or maybe you were riding your bike and you fell off? As you picked yourself up, you realized that maybe your knee or your elbow was bleeding and then the bloody scrape began to throb with pain? I think everyone must have experienced something like that at least once in their life.

Your scrape may have been uncomfortable, but it usually began to heal within a few days. A scab eventually began to form. The depth, size, and location of the scrape dictated how long it would take for your injury to heal. Eventually, a scab began to form. New skin began to form on the edges of the wound and the wound healed from the edges in to the middle. You found that your skin may have turned pink and was still sensitive to touch, but eventually the scab decreased in size and eventually fell off (if you didn't pick it off first). If you're lucky, there was hardly any evidence that there was ever some type of skin trauma and life went on as if the fall or the stumble ever happened.

We do need to remember though, that sometimes during the healing process, when the scab had formed, the scab or a portion of it, may have been accidentally rubbed or knocked off. This might have caused the wound to start bleeding again, some new pain may have been felt and the healing process might have had to begin all over again.

You may be wondering what this has to do with anything. Why would I be writing about scabs?! While standing in the shower recently, I realized that in many ways my life in the last couple of years can be likened to a scab. Let's think about it. I was living life basically on a "one day at a time" basis, but one day I got knocked down by life in a very BIG and unexpected way. It was hard - extremely hard to pick myself up. I really didn't want to get up. It was so much easier just to lie there wanting to be left alone bruised and bloody. Thankfully, I had Corey and Nikki and my family and friends who rallied around me who literally and figuratively picked me up and started to clean my wounds. I developed a scab - a really big one. While thinking about all this, I came to realize that I believe that my scab is slowly falling away piece by little piece. Don't get me wrong - I still feel pain from that wound. I find that I may not cry and grieve in the same way that I did initially, but there is still hurt. There is still pain and I don't know when this wound will heal - when the scab will disappear. I know others who have experienced their own similar "scrapes" for a much, much longer time than I who tell me that they still have not gotten over the hurt; their pain. They still have scabs.

Rose Kennedy said in a quote that I read the other day, "It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessons. But it is never gone." She seems to know what it is like to have a scab.

Yes, I still have a scab. I still feel wounded. I still cry on occasions; not as often as I used to and they are generally more than naught happy tears. Happy tears? Yes, those are the ones when remembering how Joe would kiss the back of my hand; remembering his stupid jokes; recalling how he loved his huckleberry ice cream - those kind of things. Those are the happy tears. The really sad tears are less frequent. My wound is still deep. I still experience a loss of companionship and pain of missed opportunities to be together. I find that the loss and the crying can come from the stored memories I have when remembering Joe. These are wonderful memories as I find that the passage of time, the healing of the scab if you will, tends to make the bad memories of sickness and trauma become less and less remembered. The good memories can come from a song, a smell, a sound, but still provide some sorrow that Joe is not here to share them with. Those are supposed to be OUR memories. WE made those memories together. WE made those memories so that one day when WE could no longer make new ones, we'd always have those to fall back on. And now, I've been left with this tremendous amount and array of memories that really don't matter to anyone. That's where and when the sadness creeps in. That's one of the reasons why the scab still remains. The scab may not be as big as it was two years ago and my scrape may no longer be bleeding, but I've still got the scab.

Grief Showers

It's been 21 months since Joe died.  Life has gone on.  In fact, life has been pretty darn good.  I still miss Joe.  I miss his company.  I miss his wit.  I miss his love.  I miss many things that I no longer have since he died.  But, life is good and I feel that all in all I've adjusted pretty well.

Last week was a rough week.  I've been doing some major organizing in my house in the last few weeks.  There have been occasions when I've opened up drawers or have looked on shelves and found things that used to belong to Joe.  Most times I've just shut the drawer or walked away from the shelf.  Not time yet to take some of those memory trips.  However, I did find a large, unopened bottle of expensive medication that Joe used in conjunction with his dialysis treatments.  It had not expired and I did not want to throw away medication that might be able to be used by someone else.  So, I decided to give it away to a lady who I knew could use it.

I drove into the parking lot and started getting a really strange feeling.  After I parked, I had to talk myself into going into the building.  After all, I had not been there since the week before Joe died.  I did go inside and  walked into the waiting room and up to the reception desk.  Then the social worker saw me and came walking out.  I started crying as a tidal wave of emotions hit me.  I explained to Marilyn why I was there in between the crying.  She told me what I was experiencing was a "grief shower".  I feel I handle my emotions pretty well these days, but it's those little unexpected things that jump out unexpectedly that knock me for a loop.

Two days later, our entire office at work went through CPR and first aid re-certification.  All went well until we got to the last portion which involved the training on an automated external defibrillator (AED).  This is a portable electronic device that is used to try and start the heart once it's stopped.  When it gets turned on, it makes a certain distinct sound and when it happened at the office, the most awful feelings came rushing back.  I remembered seeing the AED used on Joe to start his heart, how his entire body flopped uncontrollably and I had to leave the room. 

My immediate coping mechanism for both of these instances...emotional eating when I got home.