I have a friend in the ICU right now. They're expecting she'll be there at least well into next week and, while today is better than yesterday, there are still significant hurdles before she can be considered "well" and even higher hurdles to living a long and happy life. She is among the people I trust most in the world. I have no fear of judgement and complete confidence in her advice. Her health has deteriorated dramatically over the past year and accelerated over the past month. She's been a guest in my home through all of this and and I've become essentially a full time caregiver to help with nearly every aspect of day-to-day. Mercifully, not everything, but it's been an enormous strain on my time, patience, and my other relationships.
Before we ended up needing the ambulance this past time, she was shouting at me to hurry. I'd grown so tired of being told to hurry that I was being petulant and not hurrying as much as I could've. Again, she asked that I hurry, or else the swelling will get too bad and she won't be able to sit up. I rolled my eyes a bit, mumbled terrible things to myself, and sauntered over to help. We went through the standard procedure, but, sure enough, the swelling had gotten too bad for her to sit up and she ended up falling in a manner that gave little access to help and severely inhibited her ability to breathe.
EMS came and did their thing. She was scared, of course, but it didn't seem hugely different than the previous times we've had to call the ambulance. Fast forward a few hours and she's barely able to respond even to pain and is eventually admitted to the ICU. Now, she's receiving the best care available while doctors keep an eye on vitals and tests to make sure she's pointed in the right direction. There are significant obstacles even in the best-case scenario, but today is better than yesterday.
This leads to some uncomfortable introspection. In my stress and exhaustion over the past little while, I have said and wished things that make me deeply uncomfortable. Worse, she's heard them. Worse than that, I meant most of them in the moment. I have hopes and dreams for my future that become complicated-approaching-impossible while helping her, but goodness it feels crass to have a part of me celebrate a friend suffering because it makes my hypotheticals more realistic. I consider myself to be a good person. Faithful, moral, and honorable. I don't know how to reconcile these states of mind.
I'm the closest to family she has in 3,000 miles. My home is the safest, most comfortable place she's known. Yet, she can't come back until/unless she gets markedly better. I know that I shouldn't delay or change anything I want to do while she's convalescing, but it also feels disrespectful to look into moving farther away where she may end up feeling alone and afraid again. I know that's neither my problem nor my responsibility. I also can't ignore that the person I've gone so far to help and protect for so long may need additional help and protection.
As I wrote that last sentence, I think I might've stumbled on one of the difficulties in parenting. Best case, she's a few good tests, some lifestyle adjustments, and however-many physical therapy sessions away from being healthy enough to take on the world again. Worst case, a mother of six, Marine Corps veteran, my friend won't see our next Presidential election.
I'm worried about my friend, but I've also very much enjoyed this quiet evening at home. I can't shake the feeling that I'm teetering on the edge of being a bad person. All I can do is my best and pray for tomorrow to be better than today.
