Dad
2007-09-17 - 10:43 a.m.
Dear Dad -
I have done a lot since you died. We buried you and then, I built a garden in your memory. After that, I studied for, and passed the nursing boards. Then, mom, brother and I went to Myrtle Beach without you. It was fun. It was there that I started drinking again. I found lots of shells, too. When I got back, I started to get ready for my job of all jobs - the one that will most likely lead to my retirement. So, I started work there and I learned a ton of stuff! Then, we celebrated your anniversary. And your birthday. Without you. Oh - and Labor D@y came and went - we had a cookout, like we probably would have done if you were alive.
Somehow, I got through all of this without a major breakdown. Until Thursday. On Thursday, during one of our orientation classes at work, we got to learn all about child abuse. I cried a little, but held it in. Then, the p@storal care lady came and talked to us about death. And then, the h0spice people came to talk to us more about death. I cried a lot - my eyeballs were like a faucet for a good hour. Then, to top it all off, we got to go to the morgue. I cried there, too. Because that is where dead children go. They showed us one of the freezers - metal, cold, pristine. Just like in the movies. Jeez-us. That is where the dead children go - when, hours before, they were alive and breathing and warm. It is probably similar to where your body was stored for a while until they dressed it all up and made it look pretty. Just how DID they get your pants on you anyway??? I imagine them with a contraption that hoists your body in the air, dangling like a puppet. There, they can dress you. And, when they're done, they simply release the straps that suspended you and they slide out from beneath your clothes. And waa-lah - you're dressed! Then, all they had to do was put that cakey makeup on your face. I wonder what your body looks like now. I don't think I want to know. I like the old pictures of you better than the ones I conjure up in my head. Anyway, back to Thursday. So, after our morning of fun, I had to go work with my precept0r on my unit. I was doing okay. Until I started to screw things up - like not opening the vent on the vanc bottle - and the girl's line collapsed and she didn't get her vanc in time. And then, the whole screwing up her assessment thing and not calling the resident when I should have. Oh, and the TPN. The TPN - like what you had hanging during your finals days. I ignored it until my precept0r flashed it in front of me, explaining the label that was placed on it. It was then that I truly lost it. I had to hide in the bathroom and wail for about 20 minutes. No one could find me. I got angry that you died. I was pissed. But, I put my pretty face back on and walked back onto the unit and sat down at my computer. The charg3 nurs3 came up and told me to go to my educator's office - there, my precept0r and my educator were waiting. They asked if I was okay. I told them yes. I held it in. I pretended and damnit, I don't think acting is in my future. They saw right through my mottled, red face and my fake smile and they tried to console me. And, so I lost it again. Sounds came out of me that I have never heard before - wailing, I believe. Nothing I could control. Embarrassing as heck. They understood. I tried to explain how everything was already so overwhelming from our class that morning and then, the TPN. Jeez-us... the freakin' TPN. Big ol' trigger. Must remember that for next time. They understood. Other people amaze me - I never give them enough credit. I always think things are going to be way worse than what they actually are. I got to talk about some stuff. And get hugs. And I went home early and I slept from 5:30 p.m. until 10:30 a.m. on Friday.
I am gonna be okay, but man-o-man... I have GOT to remember that TPN and me and my memories of you are just not good. And, going to the morgue aint' my cup-o-tea either. Or learning about what happens when the children die. So, I learned. Big time. I am still very sad that you are gone. I am so happy that I dream about you almost every night and it's funny, simple things like us trying to make towers topple or finding the right size flip-flops for you. But, when I am awake, I am finding that it is okay that I am still sad about you dying. And other people are okay with me still being sad about it. Even though it's been four months and 7 days. Considering I lived with you in my life for 32+ years, I am beginning to realize that four months ain't nuthin'. And so, I am telling you that I am still very sad and angry that you are gone. And, I am gonna be okay. I hope you are proud of me and all that I've done since you've left. I wish you could see it for real.
