The Hardest Part

I know I haven't been updating this blog much, I've been keeping everyone, including family and Dad's co-workers, informed through my business blog, and it's exhausting between that and facebook and twitter trying to remember what I have updated.

Basically physically he is getting better and mentally he is getting worse.

It turns out he did not have strokes. The MRI results came back. This is great news. But the recovery from such traumatic surgery is a long and difficult one.

This is a copy and paste from my other blog:

Dad is really alert now and really aware of his limitations. If you know him, you know he is a gentle man who never loses his temper and always has a smile on his face.He DOES continue to improve physically. I can understand everything he says now, and he was putting his glasses on and off on his own. His movements become more coordinated and less jerky everyday. He is ready to move to the rehab center.
However, the insurance company has not approved this move. Because they did not approve it by the end of the day today (Friday), he will have to be in ICU for the weekend. What does this mean for him???
It means sleepless nights because nurses in ICU come in every 30 minutes. It means tons of uncomfortable wires and monitors (he rips out his IV twice a day). It means listening to the sickest of the sick cry and cough and moan across the hall, all the time. It means not being able to hug and kiss his grandkids, only waving at them through the window. It means crappy food. It means his wife sleeping in a chair for almost two weeks now. It means no social worker or staff psychologist to come and talk to us or to him about the emotions he is going through. It means no moving from the bed he is in to stretch his atrophied muscles. THIS. IS. AWFUL.
I am so angry for my father. I have very rarely seen him upset, but I can only imagine how he is feeling and I understand his emotions. He just wants to be able to wear his pants for crying out loud. He is convinced that he will never be normal again. I just want the idiots who are holding up the insurance to come into my father's room for 20 minutes, and watch him beg and plead to just go home. To explain to him why his body isn't doing what his brain tells it to. To watch him toss and turn and try to sleep for longer than 15 minutes at a time.
I love my father, and this is torture on me, my brother, his wife, and all who love him. I honestly can't imagine anything worse than watching him suffer like this. It is quite literally my worst nightmare.

I have been able to get through the tough parts leaning on family and friends. But now that things have become really intense, everyone is turning to their spouses for support. Because really when you're this emotional and vulnerable, that is who you are supposed to go to and who you want to go to.

That's why I'm writing here tonight, because this issue is coming up for me in a big way. Not only is my estranged husband not being supportive, he's making things worse (accusing me of being mean to the kids and starting a screaming match with me today, after I asked him to come and pick them up because I couldn't handle them in this state of depression). The next person I would turn to at a time like this? My Dad.

And the thing is, friends are great--I do have the best friends in. the. world. Friends who buy me voodoo dolls in Mexico. Friends who chat with me until 1:30am, friends who call and ask if they can come clean my house, friends who organize meals for me, friends who come visit me at the hospital and let me snuggle their babies. Seriously, I couldn't do better.

Which is why it is so sad to me that I cannot stand being alone through this. I have no one to be completely and utterly vulnerable with. My nighttime sobbing is unheard. I have no one to hold me and reassure me that everything is going to be ok.

Not that that would be any different if I were still with my husband (obviously, from above).

I just need physical touch in the worst way right now. I need all-enveloping hugs, and kisses on the forehead.

Friends, family, even kids--these hugs and affection are all great and all part of the big picture of what I need. But yes, that- a supportive intimate partner- is missing right now.

I feel so alone in this.