I am hereby concluding that I cannot have a real life.
It’s very difficult on the people around me. My emotions have a range as long as a Texas interstate with no rest stops. I am upbeat, even happy. I can laugh. I can also throw a serious tantrum. I can show emotion. I still have all the same feelings I did as a “normal” person. Now, the emotions are more intense as things with Ashton get worse. I blew it last night when we came home. I literally blew it.
I had someone in my life for support and here’s what I do: fight or flight. Well, I usually choose both. I felt so backed in to a corner with being pulled in so many directions I decided to fight, then flee. Neither is ever a good choice. It leaves me alone in this fight to help save Ashton and it it leaves me alone as a woman, as a daughter, as a sister, as a person. fear seems to rule my life.
The choices that have been made by doctors since Thursday are baffling. We moved in. We moved out. ( This is no small feat) His new port is faulty. We are sent home anyway. I do not even know what is happening and I cannot stop crying. Ashton has “maybe good cells or maybe bad cells”. Thanks. That’s so very clear.
Ashton may have a donor or he may not. Thanks. That’s very clear.
Ashton’s port doesn’t work. Sorry. It’s 24 hours old. Sorry. We will call you in a week. Sorry.
I have no one here. He has no one here. We have to go somewhere else.