The work of grieving

They stress to us who attend grief counseling that grieving is a job that we have to work at.  Apparently the job has no vacation, no personal time off and no sick days, which is a big disappointment.

It certainly is NOT among my favorites of the jobs I've held in my life.  That would probably have to be the one when I operated the manual elevator at the downtown JC Penney store in Sioux Falls.  If you are old like me, you know what I'm talking about. Looking in from the outside of the elevator shaft, glass doors yielded a view of the elevator as it neared your floor.  First you saw the brass acordian gate pulled back, then the glass doors themselves opened. You checked to make sure the operator was a good one who could stop the car right on the threshold, not too far up or down before you stepped on.  This was my job when I was 17.  It was good clean fun.  The best part of all was that this guy named Gary could get on and ride for hours to talk to me when the car was empty and remain silent if there were other passengers to ferry. Kinda funny to think, Gary drove downtown, parked at, and plugged a meter just so he could ride the elevator at JC Penney.

One constant of my workshift in the elevator was the witty customer who would say to me, "I'll bet THIS job has its ups and downs!"  HAH Hah ha, yeah I almost forgot to laugh at that one after I'd heard it the first 50 times.

Well, this job of grieving is rife with ups and downs. More like a little up but mostly down and downer.
I am tired of it already, but I will be on its payroll for the rest of my life.  I have been mostly in a rut, not progressing the past couple of weeks.  I am very apathetic about most things.  There just isn't much to look forward to without Gary and our goals and ambitions together.

I did learn a word last Monday's group, Anhedonia-

ANHEDONIA: a psychological condition characterized by inability to experience pleasure in normally pleasurable acts 

 

Anhedonia is a classic symptom that most, if not all persons who lose a spouse experience.  So I'm just a face in the Anhedonic crowd.

I have been cranky too.  Bonnie Franklin, who played Valerie Bertinelli's mom on One Day At A Time died yesterday of pancreatic cancer.  Yeah, so what, we collectively yawn.  When is this cancer going to take the center stage that it should occupy!?  Of course everyone has their pet cancer it seems. But even the biggest baddest killer, lung cancer, has a longer survival rate than pancreatic. No one seems to care or notice that there are hopeful treatments for every cancer EXCEPT pancreatic.  The survival rate is still the same dismal 1% that it was in the 60's fergodssake.  Bonnie Franklin lived 5 months from her diagnosis last September.  I'd assume that she had money and access to the best treatments in LA and all of its research facilities there. I'm just so sick of this being such a killer of both men and women equally and that its devastation of human life is growing into the second highest killer of all the cancers. It is not rare anymore, yet everyone continues to throw up their hands in despair at trying to treat it or develop a screen for it.

Some would say I am angry, Yes, but not in the tired old cliches of grief that have been dispelled decades ago.  I am not angry at Gary for dying.  How could anyone BLAME the victim like that? I'm a victim of pancreatic cancer myself!  I don't see myself ever blaming Gary for leaving me alone knowing how much he felt sorry for me having to go on without him.  Like I told my sister-in-law, once you are diagnosed, you are tied to the tracks of the pancreatic cancer train and it doesn't stop for nuthin' until it runs you down.  This is what makes me so angry.  I meet many new widows from pancreatic cancer.  It feels more like those who have experienced a sudden death of their spouse rather than the ones who cared for their loved one for years before they finally died.  Pc is literally sudden death playoff.

I still can't be a cheerleader for any group attached to cancer.  I'm not sure if that day will ever come.

Right now, I am glad I don't have to 'perform' for anyone and pretend all is just fine and dandy.  I dread the day that people will say or think, 'OK buddy, your time is up, its time to get over the whole grief thing now.'
Well, you don't 'get over' a person you were meant to be with.  Nor do you get to 'move on' either.  Moving on means moving away from, but we are stuck with this person's love and their very real presence and memories forever.

So, yeah the work of grieving continues, but I'd like to say, "Take this job and shove it."