the colors muddy
Later today I am informally scheduled to meet with my therapist who has resigned or been asked to resign her position not more than three weeks after I asked her point blank, with concern and need to know, whether she too would be leaving my hospice team as my previous nurse did.
I was reassured with a responding 'NO' and today I will see her, having learned not from her, but others who proclaim to be team members, what her future holds and more specifically how it related to my current health care.
After opening up and accepting her challenges and establishing a relationship that has been anything but clinical, my mind is cluttered in thought, my emotions heavy and my heart hurt.
I will prepare little for our meeting as I have little to say, the decisions made without my consent as the team leader, the pain real and the ramifications felt physically and mentally as I continue to share more with myself inward, and less with those around me. I am aware that people need to do what is right in their minds but am puzzled that after hearing so vividly how much support was before me and beside me, I am surprised to look in a direction to both sides and in front of me and see nothing and feel even less. The words once spoken, silent.
I have become a source of income for an organization that preaches comfort and dignity. I lie awake and wonder about a future knowing that others profess a desire to love with false hope and false promise leaving me the challenge to pick up a piece and paint a picture using some of the colors of my color wheel. The thought of picking up a palette knife is too painful and thus shoved further under the bed I try to rest in.
I was reassured with a responding 'NO' and today I will see her, having learned not from her, but others who proclaim to be team members, what her future holds and more specifically how it related to my current health care.
After opening up and accepting her challenges and establishing a relationship that has been anything but clinical, my mind is cluttered in thought, my emotions heavy and my heart hurt.
I will prepare little for our meeting as I have little to say, the decisions made without my consent as the team leader, the pain real and the ramifications felt physically and mentally as I continue to share more with myself inward, and less with those around me. I am aware that people need to do what is right in their minds but am puzzled that after hearing so vividly how much support was before me and beside me, I am surprised to look in a direction to both sides and in front of me and see nothing and feel even less. The words once spoken, silent.
I have become a source of income for an organization that preaches comfort and dignity. I lie awake and wonder about a future knowing that others profess a desire to love with false hope and false promise leaving me the challenge to pick up a piece and paint a picture using some of the colors of my color wheel. The thought of picking up a palette knife is too painful and thus shoved further under the bed I try to rest in.
posted by the warrior at 7:12 AM
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