Mar 23, 2014

From Painville to Painhell

- Mom, do you think you will ever be able to carry me?

This is Trouble 2 asking, when he was about 12. Because of my back I couldn’t carry him and his brother when they were little boys. At 12 he didn’t really need being carried, but the younger Trouble 2 talked through him, and apparently being carried by me was something he had missed out on. His question made me very sad.

One of the things I am grieving the most in my life is that my sons didn’t know me when I was young. My back problems started when I was first time pregnant. Up until than I switched tires on the car, built walls in the house, put up the wall paper, painted, lifted a corner of the bakers cottage with my dad, moved a stack of big stones, ran, went downhill (big time), and of course did everything a woman is supposed to do around the house. And traveled and had all the fun I wanted.

- Mom, you look like a happy girl!

Trouble 2 again. Watching a TV show where his parents and friends in the vocal group Oktetten Moritz were singing in the early eighties. That remark saddened me too. My sons never got to meet that happy girl.  

Last Sunday I hoped my birthday weekend would be the turning point for the difficult slump I have been in when it comes to my back problems. Rephrasing, hoped is too weak, I thought is would be the turning point. I even trusted it.

I was wrong. I have been living in Painville for close to two months now. But this weekend I am spending in Painhell. Every little move I do cuts the knife into my sacrum. My couch, where I have been nesting most of my hours awake for one year and four months now, is today a prison. I am lying here immobile. As long as I am perfectly still, the pain is tolerable. My home care people are here six times a day to help me out. It’s still not enough. I am scared at all times.

In my life, the life that I have, I am trying not to whine but to be happy and grateful for what I have, and I truly am. I don't want to contaminate the Universe and the people close to me with my dark side. The darkness is powerful, but I am working hard to keep it locked in a hidden closet, to others than myself.

I have two wonderful sons. Through the years when Trouble 2 was traveling, Trouble 1 did take on a huge responsibly for me. Now Trouble 2 is. I have home care with the great local company Civil Care, and Trouble & Trouble are to some extent hired by them, so a part of the care my sons are giving me, they actually get payed for.

It is the city’s social authorities that makes the decision how much help I am entitled to and Civil Care is providing the service. The problem is that I need a lot more care than I am entitled to. Peter and Awara, the wonderful owners of Civil Care have been loosing money on my case since October, even more so this weekend. I feel awful about that, they are telling me not to worry thouugh, they want to make me safe. But right now, because of my couch prison, I am still not safe. My sons know that.

In my darkest darkness I am calling out WHY? I am crying out WHY?? I am screaming out WHY??? For myself, but mostly for my sons. Isn’t it bad enough they weren’t carried by their mom when they were little boys? Isn’t it sad enough they never knew “the happy girl”, the light-hearted woman I once was - was I even, I don’t remember any more? I am pain. I am pain incarnate, that’s the only mother they know.

This is horrible. But what’s even more horrible is that they are the ones carrying me. My sons are in their mid twenties and forgetting their cell phone for a few hours somewhere knowing that I can’t reach them if anything extra bad would happen, makes their stress level rise and the alarm system go on red alert. They are in their mid twenties and they should have their mind on what young men in their mid twenties normally have. They have their mind on mom. I know they are even stalled when it comes to a future grown up life. Who would be the 24-7 emergency rescue (Civil Care is not allowed to take on night shifts) if they had full time job (my sons are starting artist and therefore flexible)? Or would like to move permanently? And, I am adding in my mind, start a family?

Knowing this is unbearable. And I can’t do anything about it. Pay back time to your parents shouldn’t start when you are around twenty. And I can only imagine reliving my sorrow, not being able to pick up and carry my future grandchildren. And seeing my sons watching that. Being given a second chance, unable to take it.

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