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Carol Perkins: Running from Grief Previous Column: I wonder By Carol Perkins When sickness hits on the high seas and you are quarantined to your cabin until further notice, the trip becomes one of those, "I wish I'd stayed at home." That happened to me. After my mother passed in January, I was so distraught and exhausted that time away from home sounded good. I could postpone, or so I thought, my upcoming responsibilities. I found a cruise perfect for Guy. (He loves cruises.) Then, sickness hit me just as we were ready to enjoy five ports of call after nine days at sea. The ship's doctor diagnosed me with the flu and pneumonia. He x-rayed, did an EKG, drew blood, and filled me via an IV with meds, but I couldn't shake it. Twice a day, I went for treatments (nebulizer) and an extra round of meds. In the meantime, I missed four of the five ports of call. I was too sick to care. I was sure I would get better if I could get back home to my recliner, but that was wishful thinking. Four days later (Saturday), Guy insisted I go to Urgent Care. A new round of meds followed, but the healing didn't. By Monday, he called our primary doctor at Graves Gilbert, and I got a shot this time. By Thursday of that week, I had finally unpacked. Running away from grief, which I was doing, never works. During those bedridden weeks, I relived my entire life with my mother as if we were in a movie. At 103 years old, her mind was crystal clear. Of my sickness, she would have said, "You run yourself to death." One of her last instructions was how to tackle the upstairs, where the past is stored in boxes. "Get three paper towel boxes and label them: a throw-away, a maybe, and a keep." She was the director of our lives. My mom lived a simple life, but kept so many newspapers and magazines, planning to read them someday. She has a stack of my articles, a collection of Look and Life magazines that go back to the 50s, and even my paper dolls. When I'm well enough to tackle upstairs, I'm sure I'll be calling on her to tell me what to throw away, maybe keep, and keep. Emily Dickinson described those left to deal with death as "Sweeping up the heart." No one is ready for that task. No one. You can contact Carol at carolperkins06@gmail.com. This story was posted on 2025-05-02 17:23:09
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Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know. More articles from topic Carol Perkins:
Carol Perkins: I wonder Carol Perkins: Storms and feather beds Carol Perkins: The Stretch Stitch Carol Perkins: On the Road Again Carol Perkins: Trying to leave Carol Perkins: The Recipe Carol Perkins: It never dawned on me Carol Perkins: Worn Boots Carol Perkins: The Magnet Carol Perkins: The Porch Lights View even more articles in topic Carol Perkins |
 
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