JOURNAL…
I,m sitting in a tiny hospital room with Mother. I have a small cot where I can stay the
two to three days while Mother undergoes this latest chemotherapy. As she sleeps,
I look at a huge calendar that says December 15. It doesn’t seem possible — only
10 days until Christmas. It doesn’t feel like Christmas. The nurses all wear
Christmas earrings and bright lights decorate the hospital halls, but it still doesn’t
seem like Christmas.
It’s just one more day of illness. One day closer to a cure for cancer. One more day
I can spend with my mother. In one moment our lives are changed by a word. Fear
takes hold, and we no longer function as we once did — taking life for granted.
The shopping that used to seem so important will have to wait. The traditions we
shared for so long will have to change. Mother will not be baking her jam cake this
year, and our family may not be able to have dinner together in the usual way.
Suddenly it all seems so unimportant. All that matters is that Mother and Daddy are
home and feeling good for Christmas. All that matters is that our family is together.
This year we will celebrate Christmas the way it should be celebrated — in our
hearts together.
CONNIE MEYER is sharing parts of the journal she kept while caring for her
mother and father when both were ill. Each month’s journal entries can be found
online at www.iamtodayswoman.com. You may contact Connie at
conniemeyer@iamtodayswoman.com.
Journal Tip: The holidays are stressful enough without serious illness added to the
mix. When you are caring for an ill parent/or parents, remember that things are not
going to be the way they were. Traditions are suddenly trade-offs for more
important things. Illness forces us to look at life with new eyes, especially during the
holidays. Allow your eyes to see the blessings that come from such illness. Being
together becomes more precious than ever. Living in the moment is no longer a
choice, but an opportunity for growth.
I,m sitting in a tiny hospital room with Mother. I have a small cot where I can stay the
two to three days while Mother undergoes this latest chemotherapy. As she sleeps,
I look at a huge calendar that says December 15. It doesn’t seem possible — only
10 days until Christmas. It doesn’t feel like Christmas. The nurses all wear
Christmas earrings and bright lights decorate the hospital halls, but it still doesn’t
seem like Christmas.
It’s just one more day of illness. One day closer to a cure for cancer. One more day
I can spend with my mother. In one moment our lives are changed by a word. Fear
takes hold, and we no longer function as we once did — taking life for granted.
The shopping that used to seem so important will have to wait. The traditions we
shared for so long will have to change. Mother will not be baking her jam cake this
year, and our family may not be able to have dinner together in the usual way.
Suddenly it all seems so unimportant. All that matters is that Mother and Daddy are
home and feeling good for Christmas. All that matters is that our family is together.
This year we will celebrate Christmas the way it should be celebrated — in our
hearts together.
CONNIE MEYER is sharing parts of the journal she kept while caring for her
mother and father when both were ill. Each month’s journal entries can be found
online at www.iamtodayswoman.com. You may contact Connie at
conniemeyer@iamtodayswoman.com.
Journal Tip: The holidays are stressful enough without serious illness added to the
mix. When you are caring for an ill parent/or parents, remember that things are not
going to be the way they were. Traditions are suddenly trade-offs for more
important things. Illness forces us to look at life with new eyes, especially during the
holidays. Allow your eyes to see the blessings that come from such illness. Being
together becomes more precious than ever. Living in the moment is no longer a
choice, but an opportunity for growth.