Ah, the guilt....
Wednesday, May. 01, 2013 2:56 PM

�My grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She's ninety-seven now, and we don't know where the heck she is.� ― Ellen DeGeneres

It was a long weekend, and it's been a long week. I've been suffering from the worst allergies ever. I don't remember ever sneezing this much in my life. I'm sneezing so much lately that my entire body aches. It's like that painful feeling you get in your abdomen when you've been coughing too much. I have that, but the culprit is sneezing. And yes, I have taken allergy medication out the woo-ha which has only helped with the itchy eyes and runny nose bit. Just not the sneezing. Blah! I say. BLAH!

If allergies aren't enough to pile on my plate right now, this is: Kent had to go in for an MRI this morning but he was only able to make it through the first hour of this two hour procedure. Not sure what the doctor is going to say or what they plan on doing if he can't even lay still for two hours.

Last week his left arm went completely numb. It's just hanging limp by his side. And this weekend - or was it Monday? I have no idea. The days are starting to flow together again. - his entire right leg went numb. Ora, across the street, brought him a cane to use. It helps but it doesn't seem to keep Kent from falling down and injuring himself. Kent started to complain about how he keeps falling down all the time now, so I told him a bit too sarcastically, "then quit walking around and just sit down."

I feel like such a bitch sometimes. I know I should be more patient and compassionate, but honestly, he drives me nuts. He drives me nuts because he knows he has no use of his left arm or right leg but instead of resting and allowing some of his injuries to heal, he's up hopping around like a bunny on crack thinking he's invincible and then complaining when his body lets him down again. I keep having to tell myself, "put yourself in his shoes. How would you act or feel if this was you instead of him?" Then I take a deep breath and try to focus on something else.

They're checking him to make sure he doesn't have a tumor on his spine, or in his brain. Kent thinks it's just something pressing down on his nerves. Part of me thinks, "well, the universe sure likes to make you suffer so that's probably all it is." Whereas, the other part of me secretly hopes it's a brain tumor and his suffering has an end in sight.

Yes, I'm forcing myself to live halfway in denial. Absurd, isn't it? Especially since the reality of the situation isn't going to change much until he passes away, and when he does pass away, I wonder how hard the grief is going to hit me... how much the guilt is going to consume me, too. I live every single day praying he'll pass away. It used to be so that he wouldn't have to suffer. Now it's because I'm tired of suffering along with him and I want a life back. How selfish have I become to pray for his death just so that I can live? That's how I know once he does pass away, I'm going to be riddled with guilt beyond my control.

I have a secret. I've saved up enough money to set it aside and forget it exists. I've been hoarding it in an envelope in my desk drawer at work. Tomorrow I'm going to the bank to open up a savings account for myself. It's extremely sad that I've had to do this behind Kent's back. Good marriages don't have secrets of this caliber. But what else am I to do when I know that if he knew about the money, he'd spend it all on alcohol and cigarettes? It's bad enough that I have to keep constant vigil over the money we get back from our tax returns to make sure we have it at the end of the year to pay our property taxes and house insurance now. I don't know what I'm going to do if that money suddenly disappears.

I've tried a thousand different ways to kick him out of the house, but it doesn't seem to work. I've even become quite blunt and vocal that I'm not happy and I want him gone. None of it seems to matter to him, though. In the end, I think I'm going to have to be the one to leave my house. I just need to find the energy to do so. I have no energy or gumption. Instead, my guilt over his sickness encompasses me and I shuffle my way back into this prison of mine.

Will I ever find happiness in this lifetime? Or am I going to be trapped with this sick addict? I think creating my own savings account is a good start, though. It will give me the funds I need for a fresh start whether Kent passes away or I find myself in the car driving away and leaving everything but the kitty cats behind.

Either way, something must happen and it must happen soon. For now, I lie in wait - preparing for a future that can go either way.