Self~Portrait "suffering"

Update #9

Mark still has a high fever and is too weak to breath on his own. They are going to pack his sides with ice and we all want to see him off of the ventilator. Basically, there are no changes right now. When Mark opens his eyes and looks at me, he scowls. Deep in his soul he is crying out to me saying, What is happening to me? Take this tube out of my throat. What day is this? Are you okay Mom?

Can suffering be measured? I am weakening, the Lupus is being challenged. Before I enter his room, I tell myself that he is lucky to be alive, I am lucky that h e i s a l i v e. Is that the measurement? People who loose loved ones feel so much more than I am feeling. Is that the measurement? It is my nature to analyze all situations. I am fighting this 'first born' ingrained reaction. Live in the moment...baby steps...la la la. The moments and the steps are sufferingly difficult. We are all suffering in our own way. Each one of us goes in a different direction to grab a hold of some form of sanity, only to return so that we can walk into Marks room with as much positive energy as possible. Then we walk out and each one of us runs to our corners to sip water, force feed and rest. But in between each increment of moments we are suffering. We have cried so much that we no longer hold each other, our arms are too heavy. And then there is our faith. We each have these surges of tangible hope and then you walk into his room and he begs you with his eyes and pulls on his wrists that are tied down, so he won't pull out the tube in his throat and we feel our will power and our hope drain out of the bottom of our feet, and our smiles for him begin to fade, so we leave his room and flee.......and suffer.......and the crying begins because he is suffering more than we can imagine.

My solace is the prayers that I whisper or scream into his shirt bundle.

My solace is my family that is suffering with me.

My solace is here, where I can bare my soul, get encouragement and refill my cup because you are able to keep hopeful and rational and take the time to give me words to read that tell me things about myself or the situation that are hard to keep believing, but you convince me over and over.

And when I wake up in the middle of the night...and the space beside me is cold because my husband is at Mark's side, the light of my computer screen fills the darkness around me and I, again, read your love notes until I can't keep my eyes open and can escape into oblivion.

How can I thank you? I want to hug each one of you, individually and look into your eyes and give you a grateful piece of myself. I want to tell you that you are angels to me and I need you and you are here, faithful and loyal and beautiful. "Oh, God....let them know how much I feel them with me. I am not alone because of them and feel so gratefull."