This Blog Post was originally published on adagia.org.
The year is coming to an end and I’m still feeling we are in March or May 2020. I wasn’t at a concert in ages and it seems to me that my mental health is finally (I’m not sure if that is the right word for it) at a place where I don’t want it to be.
I was been affected by “Winters Depression” over the last few years. Sometimes worse sometimes not so worse. Currently I’m sitting on my balcony at 14°C and the sun is hurting on my skin which means I’m getting more than enough vitamin d and I feel good today.
I’m also looking forward to my first paramedic duty next year which happens to be directly tomorrow on first January. I’m excited to see some paramedic colleagues again after a few weeks of social isolation.
But that is not everything on my mind currently. One of my grandfathers died months back (I think I’ve written about it) and my other grandfather, the one I’m as bonded to as to my best friend is terminally ill.
At the beginning of the year he’s got the diagnosis of some kind of shadow on the lungs. Later it turned out his whole body is already full of metastases with bone cancer. Part of his hip is eaten already eaten up by it and I can’t even think about the pain he is enduring.
A few months back he was still mowing the grass on his own (at the age of 85) without the need of any assistance to shower or take a shit. A few months after said diagnose we had an awesome evening at his house where he had only a small difficulty with walking.
Two weeks back I was visiting him again as my mother said the doctors only give him a few weeks. She was telling me about his suicidal thoughts (“Get me a gun I’m shooting myself”, “Call the police, they shall kill me”). I was never expecting that from him.
When I visited him I felt broken. He’s on Morphin and fentanyl and thus his mind is more wandering than oriented to his situation. At first he didn’t even recognise me. It is hard to endure seeing him like that. A broken man that wants to go but can’t. I told my mother that according to her reports I didn’t want to see him in this “stage” but I drove there for her.
It brings me to tears writing about him. A person I was looking up ever since I can think and remember, knowing the next time I will be seeing him probably in a coffin. Every day could be his last one and every night I’m going to sleep my mind rattles through the times we’ve had together.
So many stories he had to tell will be gone soon and I don’t even want to think about how my grandmother is handling it. They’ve been married for more than 60 years now.
I hope for them it will be over sooner than later, my grandmother my mother and here sister are currently taking care of him daily. Washing, feeding and everything in between. I wonder how long they can endure that horrifying routine?
So 2020 was shit, 2021 was even shittier and I can’t wait for it to be over. Maybe it is finally time to seek out for professional help and not offload my weight onto the people reading this.
Enjoy the time with your loved once as long as you can, it could be over anytime.