Get Out of Bed

I immediately wished I had let the phone ring through when I heard her voice. It was the wife of the friend of ours who has lupus. I had written about her in the past. She had been spending 23 hours a day in bed, totally drugged to a point of being incoherent, demanded the attention of her children from her bed and fights with them and her husband because they don't give her enough attention. All three teen aged children are exhibiting signs of stress.

She revels in the fact that she is ill. She loves the attention but, most of all, the power. She makes everyone miserable. She calls me on occasion because she looks to me as a mentor of sorts, or so she says.

But this call was different from all the ones from previous years. She sounded less drugged. She asked about my health, which never happened before. She told me she made a decision to get out of bed. Yes, she would still have pain and be exhausted the next day but she realized that the family had moved forward without her. They go places. Her husband has a really nice 1957 Chevy, which he takes to any car show or group ride within a day's drive. He is recently retired and tries to get out of the house everyday. The kids often join him. They were leaving her behind.

I told her my goal was to make my death the easiest I can for my husband and son. I won't lay in bed until I moment can't stand or sit anymore. I won't whine or complain or be angry because there really is no point in it all. I want them to remember me as being positive until the very end.

She said that was her goal as well.

We'll see. I hope she has turned a page but she is part of a long book with lots of damage along the way. I fear that there has been too much damage to be repaired.