I have to start today’s entry with an apology. I’m sorry for my absence. My blog went into hiatus these last few months and I didn’t even realize how long I’ve been gone without updating, not until I looked at the calendar today. I had not planned on staying away too long but time got away from me as I grappled with a series of health crises that came one after the other.
I was bedridden for most of May and June, and save for a few rare days here and there, I hardly left the house. Aside from the physical symptoms that caused a pervading sense of discomfort, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I wasn’t sleeping well, ehrm, let me rewrite that to say that I wasn’t sleeping at all most nights. During the day, however, I couldn’t even muster the strength to get out of bed.
The responsibilities of 24/7 care for a profoundly disabled young adult weighed heavily on our shoulders. When I got sick, my husband took over Alphonse’s care, allowing me to rest, recover, and work at my own pace. I did try to catch up with many of my chores, except that I got too winded easily. Without additional help, all three of us — my husband, my eldest son, and I — were often run ragged and tired to the bone.
And then in mid-August, I had a pretty bad accident. In the middle of a busy rainy afternoon, while cleaning the schoolhouse bathroom, I slipped and slammed my back and knees into the cold hard tiles. That was a doozy. Ouch.
I was able to cushion my head with my arms but I hit my right knee by the side of the toilet bowl. My lower back made direct contact with the slippery floor. I couldn’t stand up at all as my back and knees screamed in pain.
From the bathroom door, I saw Alphonse outside the schoolhouse and playing on his basin of water. Alone with him (my husband was somewhere else in the house and Alex was with his friends that day), I called out his name and asked for his help.
“ALPHONSE! Alphonse! Please help Mama!” I shouted myself hoarse as the sound of heavy rain drowned my sobbing.
After a few tries, I saw Alphonse turn his head and look at me with a sideway glance.
“Alphonse, please help Mama!” I waved a shaky hand at him as I struggled to keep myself upright with the other hand.
Alphonse looked at me again… and waved back.
“Alphonse, help,” I tried again, giving in to loud crying. Sitting there in the wet, slippery floor of the bathroom, I realized that Alphonse was oblivious to my pain. His innocence and inability to understand social cues or comprehend risks and dangers made him unaware that I needed help.
“Mamam,” Alphonse muttered loudly. “Yu!” he shouted, the crescendo of his tremulous baritone merging with the pitter-patter of rain.
Mama, I love you. That was what he was trying to say.
“I love you too, baby,” I thought to myself, crying even harder this time. The idea that something worse could have happened and Alphonse would be unable to help anyone, not even himself, sent me into more fits of sobbing. When I think about it now, I still can’t decide if I was crying for Alphonse or for myself.
A few minutes later, my husband found me, drenched wet and hysterical. Alphonse went about his playing, glancing every now and then, smiling at us and shrieking happily.
My knees are still sore and painful today; I hobble around like an old lady in knee supports and cane. While the right knee received the brunt of my accident, my left knee is slowly giving in from the burden of walking and climbing. The orthopedist has recommended a regimen of treatment to alleviate the pain and increase mobility but I am unable to complete treatment as of today. Not only is the cost prohibitive, we also struggle with finding manpower to help with Alphonse, even just temporarily.
Between living with the constant pain and trying to find a semblance of normalcy to our days, I am hard pressed to find time to sit down and write. The pain has robbed me of my peace, truth to tell, and the struggle to give Alphonse the consistency of routine and predictability has fallen completely on my husband’s and son’s shoulders. I worry for them too, as they help carry my share of the load without complaints.
Still, today is a new day. Today, I found the will, and energy, and desire to write and keep writing. Maybe if I keep writing, I can forget about my worries and fears and allow myself some joy. For now, I will hobble along and try to keep up.
I’m just grateful to be here again, old friends.