Problems are not the problem; coping is the problem.
Virginia Safir
My husband is sick, my mother has a hairline fracture in her hip, and I'm making lists about everything I need to do before I fly to Michigan next Monday to be with my mom and dad. Thankfully, my sister will be there too, as much as she can. For those of you who may think that I do nothing but process grief and trauma, read poetry, listen to peaceful music, and go for walks in the woods (which I did yesterday, by the way), it's not always like that. Yes, I have the luxury of doing that sometimes. And I need that space and time to heal. But right now, I have to put my own concerns on the back burner and deal with more urgent matters.
My husband has a cold or the flu - I can never remember the difference between the two - and he isn't happy! Last night he had a fever and had hallucinations during the night: little creatures shaped like balloons with weird arms and legs running around our bedroom. (Thankfully, I didn't see them too.) He has a more-or-less non-stop cough and a constantly running nose. So, today, I set aside most of the things I had planned to do and went grocery shopping, washed clothes, cooked dinner, and generally pampered him. My son thinks he's getting sick too, but with any luck he won't because he eats enough oranges that I'm surprised that he doesn't turn orange.
My husband's cold (or flu) will come and go. My son may or may not get sick. My mother's hip is a more complex and much more worrisome problem. Her hip fracture is "only" a hairline fracture, but it is in a location where it is impossible to operate on. I haven't been able to the x-ray and I have no medical experience, so I can't quite picture the situation. It's not necessarily life-threatening except for the fact that my mother is 78, has serious osteoarthritis, and is prone to pneumonia. I did an Internet search for "hip fractures elderly women" and wished that I hadn't because the first hit turned up an article on how hip fractures have a higher mortality rate than breast cancer in older women. Not exactly reassuring. It also wasn't reassuring that my sister, who as an occupational therapist and does have medical experience said, "I don't have a good feeling about this."
Put those two things together and I really began to worry. And then Ruthie Foster's fabulous version of the spiritual "Travellin' Shoes" came into my mind. The first line goes something like this: "Death came a knockin' at my mother's door/Saying come on mother are you ready to go?" And then I couldn't get her voice out of my head and I had to listen to the song and downloaded it here so you can listen to it too. It's not that I expect my mom to die from her fractured hip - but she could. It may seem morbid, but listening to this joyful, sad song eases my heart.
One of the characteristics of PTSD, is that people with PTSD tend to overreact to real life worries more than other people do. Emotional reactions explains this process. Needless to say, if I am in the throes of emotional overreaction or having panic attacks, I won't be much help to my sick husband or my mom and dad. This post suggests that it is important to watch your self-talk at these times and be more aware of your mind: in other words practice mindfulness. I already do that and, I have learned the hard way, that during stressful times I have to take extra care of myself. So, with that in mind, I bought some hojicha tea today that a Japanese friend introduced me to last month - Japanese Sleepy Time, she calls it. I find it restful to drink a cup in the afternoon and I plan to take it with me to Michigan. I booked a double session with my therapist on Wednesday and I am creating an ipod playlist for unwinding at the end of the day. I'll think of more life-savers to take along before it's time to go.
Today, I did manage to find time to have coffee with one of my African students and was delighted to receive a beautiful orchid for the New Year. Adit's beautiful smile and the orchid cheered me up and then I cooked a nice supper which cheered up my husband and now, as I write this, I am sipping a glass of wine. One glass of wine, not 2 or 3 or 4. Relaxation is the key, not oblivion. Because that can be another aspect of PTSD - the desire to avoid unpleasant emotions of any sort or to be so afraid of them you have an anxiety attack or try and bury your emotions in a fog of drugs or alcohol.
Here are some words from Thich Nhat Hanh that speak to me right now. "Smile, breathe, and go slowly." I like these words so much that I'm going to write them down, keep them in my pocket, and try and remember to read them as often as I need to and follow what they say. It can't hurt.
Here's another take on the situation: an anonymous verse from the Christian tradition.
God hath not promised
Sun without rain
Joy without sorrow
Peace without pain.
