My Five Stages.

There was an episode of scrubs that came out a few seasons back called My Five Stages. It’s about a character who’s dying and trying to accept the end. The therapist informs her (and the doctors attending her) that she’ll be going through denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance – all stages of coping. It was also pointed out that it’s not just the patient who has to deal with these things: it’s the people around the patient, too.

With what’s going on now, I’m afraid of those stages, because I’ve already rinsed and repeated on four or five of them at once. I process things way too fast sometimes. It’s in my nature to wrap my hands around something and squeeze until I understand it (or until it begs for mercy from my choking.) I can’t do that with my grandmother’s ill health. She’s not even gone yet, and . . yeah. I feel like I’m thinking fourteen steps ahead (like I do with everything) and doing the anger/bargaining/denial thing all at once. I’m not sure they’re supposed to blur together in this huge ball of cataclysmic doom, but that’s what’s going on. I feel like I’m so full of BAD STUFF I’m gonna burst.

It’s weird. I always knew my grandmother could pass away at any time. I mean, any of us can really, but she was in her 80’s. You don’t like to think about it because it’s macabre to do so, but . . . here’s the thing. I think my grandmother knew she was winding down. Not that her health was bad or she was being a psychic friend or anything, but the last six months or so, she’s made a lot more “When I’m gone” comments. I would tell her not to talk like that, like not hearing the words made the realities not so bad, but now I find it funny that she’s been thinking along those lines for quite some time and here I am feeling blindsided.

Why didn’t I think more? And why was she so fucking smart?

I guess I didn’t acknowledge it because I don’t deal with pain well. I know I’m an emotional ball of wrongness most days, and I’m aware that rationalizing through my own sadness is not my strong point. She knew this too, so that’s probably why she didn’t push it. She was good about keeping my boundaries in mind.

Well, what’s going to happen is going to happen, and there isn’t anything I can do about it except keep my chin up. I hope for some kind of medical miracle, but it ain’t gonna happen. I need a better goal. I think at this point it’s to get my ass into Boston and get to say goodbye on my terms. I want her to hear how fucking amazing she is and will always be in my mind, and how I hope one day I can have someone in my life think of me the way I think of her. If I accomplish that? I’ll consider it a good run.

One thought on “My Five Stages.

  1. Grief is personal and different for everyone. The only thing that everyone has in common is people need to face up to their grief to learn from it and move on.Unfortunately, that process is hard and painful. It is worth it, but it blows. To quote my grief therapist,”Sometimes, it really fucking sucks.”

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