I miss her

I haven't been writing a lot.  I'm okay with that.

After two years, I still get this horrible stabbing, sharp pain that squeezes my heart, and I remember I can't tell my sister whatever it was that popped into my mind, that I wanted to tell her.  I didn't do grief counseling afterwards, because I was getting treatment for my addiction to opiates...mostly pain pills.  But once in a while, I will get a flashback, to the early morning when my sister finally came home for the last time.  It was really fucked up.  The entire thing.  I can't even describe the different kinds of pain and hurt and torments that her cancer did to me and my family.  We are a close family.  We don't always mesh well, but my parents love us very much, and are the type to stay with you, or make sure there is someone with you at ALL times if you are in the hospital.  I've been in the hospital 3 times.  The first was for the birth of my daughter.  That's a WHOLE other story, I'll save for another time.  The 2nd time, was for a really stupid move on my part when I tried to take my life...again, I'll save for another time.  I was really dumb and young.  And the last time, was when I was in nursing school.  I'll just say that there was fluid around my heart, and I had pneumonia.  Again, another story, but I'll probably never have the nerve to tell you about it.  We'll see.

The worst feeling I've ever had was when she came home.  I actually broke out in hives and had a really bad reaction to something, the night she came home. I thought I was giving birth to the devil and almost passed out on the toilet for a few minutes, dripping in sweat... (probably TMI for you, but sometimes I write just for me)  I was fine a few hours later.

The next morning I was awake really early in the morning, like 4 or 5 a.m.  She woke up, kinda moaning in pain, which was normal for her, and her fiance woke up to see what she needed.  She was so little in her hospital bed. I freaked out at My Life in the Moment...  I went into the kitchen and broke down into a paralyzed fetal position.  I was screaming silently, my eyes wide open with tears streaming down my face.  It was such a surreal moment.  Life is Fucked..played over and over and over in my mind, as I pounded my fist into the floor without trying to make any noise, while my other fist was shoved in my mouth to keep the scream from coming out...It was only for a few seconds, but so much adrenalin and other weird hormones were released.  I never want to go through that moment again...I imagine it's the same feeling you get if you are told your husband/kids are killed in a car accident. or some other horrible tragedy that was totally unexpected.  What can you do with that?  How do people go on with their lives, and laugh the next week, when they are living life again, and I'm trapped in this surreal bubble that feels like I'm running out of air at ALL TIMES?!  That was one of the messed up things about it.

 Look, I really like the F word.  i say it all the time.  Well, not in front of children or strangers or things like that.  Mostly when I'm talking to my friends, or driving in the car.  I feel weird not writing it.  But since, it can be offensive, I'll try to limit my cursing.  But really...sometimes the only word that works to fit the situation is Fuck.  Like the time when I met everyone up at the hospital around 10 am.  Her nurses, Oncology Dr. and his NP, some other attendings and the DR on her case.  My dad's face was red, and everyone was there a few minutes early, so when I walked in the room, I already knew what was happening.  The Doc's were looking at the floor or the ceiling, or any other focal point except into our eyes...My sister had tears running down her face, and her voice was raspy and she said "there's nothing else they can do." I was so f*ing mad.  More mad at these people than I've ever been mad at anyone in my life.  I remember throwing my bag onto the floor to slide it against the chairs/wall/window where my parents were sitting.  My dad starting to break down in tears.  I just looked at the doctor's in this rage and said "this is F*ed up".  Then I started to have a panic attack.  And this is a panic attack...not an anxiety attack.  I sucked in all the air in the room and wasn't able to get it out.  I was dizzy and numb and went into the bathroom in some kind of panicky rage.  I heard my mom tell the doctors that I have anxiety attacks...but this was different from the rage and hurt that was flooding my brain.  I wanted to beat the shit out of the wall.  Then I sorta slumped down and cried and took a deep breath, and held this all in so I could be strong for my sister, so she wasn't scared.  This whole moment that took 20 seconds or so, has so many different emotions that I felt, it took 5 minutes to write.  I held it ALL in.  I made the numb stone face and went back into the room to glare at the incompetent doctors who couldn't fix my sister.  Then someone spoke up and said there was some last thing they were hoping to do.  I can't remember what happened, but she wasn't finished with her fight then. It's really early in the morning when I write this.  I have horrible insomnia at night, and I sleep during the day.  I hate it.

But, I took my pain pills to kill the pain that was in my heart all the time, because I felt that I could focus that way...It was a total cop out.  But that's what I did.  That is how I got through situations like that.  Situations, like the one where I was on the floor,  are drilled as a secret memory in my brain, because I try to push it down and down until it becomes so small, like a seed.  and then when my racing mind stumbles on that thought, it's like opening a birthday card with something that pop's out at you...It's like that, and the torment, rage, and pain opens up again as you stumble against that memory.  It's probably some kind of post-traumatic flash back, but it's so real.  And it's like a VERY sparse landmine field.  Imagine 50 acres that you are walking on for weeks, then you step on one of those babies and it blows up in your face without warning...That seed is usually hidden really well.  It only comes up every 6 or so months.  Then I have a moment like this.  I never have written it down before.  Maybe this will help.  Journal through the pain.

I know she's in a better place.  I imagine that she's an angel (her name IS Angela-but only call her Angie), and she has a slight blue hue, and she is smiling and looking more peaceful that she has ever been, and she's wearing a flowing gown with small wings.  That's what I want.  I try to put all my faith and belief in God, that is what happens when our spirit leaves this realm.  But I'm not going to go there.  But that's what get's me through it.

There can be nothing worse than the feeling of losing your child...I know how painful it is for a sibling, but can't even imagine that pain for a parent.  I feel for everyone that has a major loss in their lives.  Sorry this post is sporatic...I'm just writing it out, without trying to be perfect, but trying to make sense to the reader.  I need a lot of practice.