The weight of the anger I carried threatened to destroy me. I was angry with doctors, nurses, hospitals, God, and mostly myself. I always protected my family and I faulted myself for failing Babe. M suggested I journal about my anger. Journaling about my anger helped to loosen its grip on me.Here is an excerpt from Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again.
“I have a lot of unpacked baggage related to Babe’s hospital stay. My mind heads straight for this tragic moment in time, not bothering to stop at intersections or red lights to give me a breather along the way. Images of caring people and people who didn’t care all play continuously across a screen in my mind.
I’m angry at myself for being so naïve. I believed doctors and health professionals care. I recall only one doctor who cared enough to fight for Babe—one out of many. I think there was a time when doctors cared more. I met them before. But it seems times have changed. Circumstances have changed. Compassion trails the field, running a distant second to rules and regulations. . . .
There are times when we waited forty-five minutes for a CMA or nurse to answer our repeated calls for assistance. Does a money manager understand the demands on a nurse and a CMA? Nurses and CMAs are overloaded with several patients to cover all at once. I wondered if some patients just lay in their waste for hours? Those who do not have family or friends with them must, and I am certain of it.”
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Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright
