Maybe some of you already know about the crap-tastic news we got last Friday. For those that don't, we found out that Sydney also has the heart disease that led Madi to heart transplant. (Sydney's CaringBridge site)
I am feeling many emotions right now. Sad? Very. Scared? Like you would not believe. But the overwhelming thing coming through me at the moment is anger. Deep, dark, anger threatening to boil over and consume everything in its path. I know it's not healthy to feel this way, but I also know that it's normal.
I have several reasons for the anger. One is that after this diagnosis, I got a lot of comments like "Oh well at least you are a veteran at this." Unfortunately, a lot of said comments came from members of my own family. It's almost like they are brushing it off as no big deal. And that's just what I hear from the family members that are kind of in touch. I have many other family members, that, for whatever reason, have cut me totally out of their lives. I KNOW they know about Sydney. Yet I have not heard a single word from any of them. This, my friends, is where the "boiling" anger comes in. I was taught from a very young age (from my mom) that family is family, and family is first. That means that even if you are not speaking to someone, or if you don't agree with them on something, if there's a crisis or something important going on in life, you swallow your pride. You BE THERE for them. Even if just to offer a shoulder to cry on, you still reach out and show that you are supportive and you believe that the family is stronger than any adversity that comes about.
I guess I don't merit that support from them. And I know that it shouldn't bother me as much as it does. That I have much better-and much more important-things to worry & think about. But I can't help it. It hurts to the very core of my being. This is a hard enough battle to fight without thinking that you have been abandoned. I lost a lot of friends when Madi got sick. Now, with Sydney sick as well, it seems like they continue to drop like flies. Even my children have noticed the difference. Sadly, they no longer recognize photos of some family members. That's saying a lot because Madi has a memory like a steel trap. She even remembers things from before her transplant.
So for now, I am floundering like someone lost at sea. I can see people in a boat up ahead, but they have their backs to me. They don't hear my calls. And if they do hear me, they pretend like they don't.
Thankfully, there are a few friends out there that are truly "life preservers"-ready, willing and able to reach out their hands and pull me back onboard. They are like beacons guiding me to shore, where I hope to find healing and peace once more.
But for them, I do not know where I would be.