There is a sound that I have come to dislike. It is the ticking clock sound.
The room is silent. There are the intermittent sounds of a car driving by or a creak of the house. A furnace clicking on or the refrigerator motor running. But, often there is the combination or lack of a combination that unsettles: labored breathing and the tick of the clock or no breathing and the tick of the clock.
Before, during and after. The tick of the clock means it is too silent. It is why we often turn on a TV or radio or fan to drown out that tick. It, for me, is symbolic of either waiting for death or afterwards while sitting and reflecting.
No sage advice here. Fatigue. We have been ground down for quite some time. Illness, life’s challenges, the holidays, my aunt’s injury/surgery have put us in a deficit. Sleep is intermittent, caught here and there and at least for me not very renewing. I doze and awaken with some ache, or feeling dazed and drawn.
There is no relief. For me, it is not a pull a shift and go home to sleep. It is a vigil and some sense of obligation to be here when she passes. But, seriously what if it is days later. Am I going to stay here around the clock, in a setting that is only suppose to be temporary? What if I go home and she dies while I am away?
Silly? I spose. I was with my dad when he died. I was with my mom when she died. Did that help to be there? I can’t say, as I didn’t awaken to a call that one or the other had passed as I slept. It is part respect, part being there if they are afraid and distressed and part avoiding guilt…ah, that guilt thing. But, I do need rest to stay on the mend, to avoid relapse and make decisions with clarity. What would I tell someone else, if I was standing back and watching them?