I'm Scared

Hello dear reader. It has certainly been a while since I have written. The dreams and goals I had when starting this blog have changed over and over again. 

I've spent the last year and a half up and working as a hospice nurse. My experience with pain, nausea, fear and near death has been a useful tool. 

After all, I understand the slow imprisonment of one in their own home. It is a unique and terrible thing. To go from being an independent person to requiring full care. I never was 100% full care, but I required assistance in almost every task. 

I'm scared. I've had longer and worse flare ups lately. It got worse after I had burned out, working so many 50-60 hour weeks. I cannot believe I even did that...after being stuck in my home for years, and volunteering at nursing jobs that hated me. Let's admit it...they did. 

I'm tired of pretending differently. The first volunteer nurse job hated me. They felt I was lazy and unhelpful. It never mattered how sick I was, or how hard I was trying, I was seen as a whiny soul. I was as much of a burden as the repeat clients who brought the same drama in over and over again. 

I saw it in their eyes. The jokes I attempted revealed the truth. Once I said, "Oh, if I was well enough I could apply to be the main, paid nurse "

Ha!  You should have seen their expression. The look of uncomfortable horror was actually quite amusing. It was all I could do to not add "Thankfully, for your sakes, that won't happen."

So much for Christian compassion. I was as worthless as the poor souls who walked through the door searching for assistance. I saw on my cohorts eyes the same disdain that was showered on those who limped in with the same injuries to mind, soul and body as I had. 

I wasn't "good" enough. I was a nuisance because I was unreliable. Eight years I fought nausea, pain and fatigue to attend my position...I carried ziplock bags to dry heaven into...

But I wasn't "enough". 

I sometimes hate Christians. They....we...come across as stuck up snobs

They aren't the only ones, though. Many non Christians also treated me with disdain as I attempted to be involved in the community.

Inclusion and diversity my left foot. 

I'm terrified of my body going back to that state. Where I am a prisoner in my own home. What do I do? What else can I try to stop my diseases from taking over again. I feel the irritation rising in my job due to...what, failure on my part? Illness causing me to call in more and more?

I fear I am on a short leash. That any day now I will be let go. And I can't do anything about it. I have hit rock bottom. 

I can't take those judgemental eyes anymore. People telling me what I should eat or not eat. People reaching out to me, all friendly, after not speaking to me in months/years...just to try to sell me their cure all snake oil. I can't take people telling me what medications to take or not take. What exercises to do or not do. What their great aunt Sally did and she was just fine then. 

I can't take the expressions passed between one woman and another that screams I am not trying hard enough. That I am a nuscence. That I am whiny that I am pathetic and should just jolly well pick up my staff and walk. That if I had any gumption, any faith at all, I would be cured. 

I'm sick of it. I'm just flat out sick of being judged on my attempts to exist and be. 

I'm scared. I'm terrified. I can't live in a prison again, I can't stand the idea of being wound up in blankets, pillows, foam pads, with iced drinks to soothe the never ending fevers. Please, God, no. Don't let me end up trapped again. Please, please, let me live. Let me have this much. Please....don't leave me here on the road being kicked in the head by every other racer running towards the finish line. Please. Let me get up and walk.