What is Wrong with Me?

Depression profoundly affects people throughout the world. A February 2017 report from the World Health Organization stated that depression is the leading cause of disability in the world, affecting more than 300 million people worldwide. 

It also showed an 18 percent increase between 2005 and 2015 in the number of people living with depression, the majority of whom are young people, elderly people, and women.

January 2019 I am at the beach on vacation. We visited the Pat Conroy center.
Life was good.

None of us are the same as we were in 2019.

We went through the most trying time of our lives when the pandemic hit us. I was flying high in January and February of 2020 until I fell victim to the coronavirus, COVID 19 before anyone knew there was a name for this sickness that would spread all over the entire planet, killing so many people.

For two weeks I was very sick and almost called 911 one night at the beginning of the illness. My breathing was shallow and I began to wheeze. I thought I was having a bad allergy attack at first, but when I didn't get better, the next day I went to the Urgent Care center where I was diagnosed with a fever and an upper respiratory infection.

I was so sick that my neighbors would only come as far as my front door and hand me food. They were afraid they would catch what I had. A week later I went to see my primary care doctor. She said I didn't have an upper respiratory infection and antibiotics would do me no good. "You have a virus," she said.

The next month we knew what that virus was and how dangerous it was. I had the same symptoms we all heard were attributed to COVID -- loss of taste and smell, heaviness in my chest, and extreme fatigue and fever. 

Around that same time, my brother, who lived hundreds of miles away, was admitted to the hospital and diagnosed with pneumonia. He was on a ventilator for several days. I was told he also had a heart attack, but that was never verified to me. As months passed we learned his tests showed he had recovered from COVID. But his health was ruined for good. In and out of the hospital, this man who had walked for two miles every day at the age of 90, could barely make it to the mailbox and back. All during 2020 and 2021, I listened to him and wanted so much to help him. I felt helpless since I was so far from him. In February his wife died. I could not go to the funeral but it was live-streamed and I wrote some words about Salita that were read at the service. Now my dear brother was grieving as well as doing all he could to help improve his health.

I worried about him, as I sat at home in isolation for fear of catching the virus again. I lost interest in my writing but found that teaching was good for my mental state.  I didn't see my friends and the days were empty and lonely. I felt my moods grow darker and my body grow weaker. The healthy person I once was a couple of years ago, the person who was always positive and energized, found she wanted to just stay in bed and watch movies. I forced myself to teach because the interaction with my wonderful students gave me a reason to get up every day. 

I was excited as my apartment at my sister's house became real and I could leave my isolation in the mountains and move into the lovely place in Roswell. I could have meals with my family, go out to restaurants with them and eat outside. Just the interaction with other people helped me come alive again. 

Meanwhile, my brother continued to be in and out of the hospital. I fretted because I could not be there to help take care of him. His phone calls became sadder and sadder. I almost dreaded picking up the phone when I knew it was my sweet brother because I felt so helpless.

But the worst was yet to come. In January of 2022, I caught COVID again. I had taken my shots and felt that I was not going to get sick, but this horrible virus had other plans. I was afraid. I felt really sick and I knew it was worse than the normal issues I dealt with. With the help of my sister, my niece, and my BIL, I made it through and in three days I was out of bed.

While still recovering, I heard the bad news. My brother had died only one month away from his 93rd birthday.

I am still grieving his passing and miss him more than my sister does because I talked with him so often and I knew his struggles and his sorrow. When I am alone and think about him and how much he wanted to live, I can't hold back the tears. 

I am not the same person I was a couple of years ago and guess I never will be again. You would not be able to tell just by looking at me, that I am depressed and in mourning. Since that first bout with COVID, my physical health has declined. I have heard this same complaint from others in my generation. My calendar is now filled with doctor appointments not writing events or classes. 

Still, I plan to make a deck garden here in Roswell. I look forward to having some flowering plants outside along with hummingbird feeders hanging overhead. Right now the pollen is covering everything and when I swept it away, I began sneezing like crazy. My car sits outside here and it is wrapped in a coat of yellow.

I am slowly furnishing my apartment with little things and today I bought a bookcase. That will help with my clutter here. At present, my stuff is all over every surface to be found. I can't find anything unless I go through piles of paper on my desk. I am grateful to be with my sister and Stu, her husband. They are thoughtful and kind, but I am sometimes too irritable and unpleasant. I don't mean to be, but I have a reason, I learned. Depression and mourning the loss of a loved one, struggling with chronic pain every day, it just sometimes becomes too much. 

Now you know what is wrong with me. How about you? Are you the same as you were in 2019? How has your life changed? Is it better in some ways and worse in others? Do you ever feel depressed? Leave a comment or email me at glendabeall@msn.com. 

Here are a few symptoms of depression:

A depression diagnosis is made when at least five of the following symptoms occur nearly every day for at least two weeks:

• Depressed mood
• Loss of pleasure in all or most activities
• Significant weight change or change in appetite
• Change in sleep
• Change in activity
• Fatigue or loss of energy
• Diminished concentration
• Feelings of guilt or worthlessness
• Thoughts of suicide

To diagnose major depression, either depressed mood or loss of pleasure in activities must be one of the symptoms.

 

When health issues change our lives

In our lives we have good times and difficult times. We have worries and we have joy.

Recently my dear brother-in-law had to have emergency surgery for a heart attack. My sister called to tell me he was having a stent put in for a 100 percent blocked artery. He is doing fine, she said. I said I wished I could be there with her and she said, "You are. I am talking to you on the phone." He is home now and they are doing fine.

Strange, but I was reading my essay about Barry's bypass surgery recovery many years ago, at the time she called. His surgery changed our lives forever. He was only 52 years old. Like I did, Gay will now learn all she can about how to cook for him and what her husband can and should not eat that will help him prevent another heart attack. She said the doctor said he would need to change his lifestyle. I'm sure Stu will get on an exercise program and will be careful of his diet. He doesn't smoke and, I think, lives a healthy lifestyle. He has been a runner ever since I first met him, but I think he has cut down on that because of knee problems.

Barry did not have a healthy lifestyle. He smoked heavily until his surgery, but he quit and never smoked another cigarette. He began to walk every day and then he began jogging. He was under the care of good cardiologists and he lived twenty-two years after his heart surgery. That made a real believer of me that smoking is the worst thing you can do to your heart. Ironically, Barry died from complications of cancer. The chemo killed his heart.

Another family member will have surgery on the 24th, and my thoughts are with her. It sounds like a difficult recovery ahead. A few weeks ago a dear cousin underwent heart surgery and is recovering now. He is dealing with the aftermath including depression and other issues that he was not expecting to face.

How can I even thing of complaining of my aches and pains when people I care about are suffering? I am happy that physical therapy is helping me recover my mobility.  

Lexie always makes me smile and cuddles with me. She makes bad times better.

I have completed the writing course I taught for ICL and I am preparing for a new writing course I will teach for the next six weeks. My class has made and I look forward to working with the students at my studio. Joy is coming to compete with the worry and concern.

That is what life is all about--good times and bad--and how we handle each.
I've known my share of both. I know for sure, that having loving family and friends who are there in person or by phone or email, makes a world of difference. I hope I am never too busy with my life to reach out to someone who needs to hear from me. And I hope if I am the one who needs someone, that my family and friends will be there for me. I hope you have the same.

On Death and Dying Alone

When we lose our loved ones, especially after we begin losing our siblings, our mortality rears up and roars at us. How long do we have left? How will we depart and how long will it take?

Reading the book given by Hospice on what to expect from your loved one as they begin to transition from this world to the next, is almost ghoulish, but I suppose it is something we need to know as we sit with our dying person. They tell us the rasping sounds emanating from the person we love is “normal.” 

Nurses at Hospice know when to call in the family as the last stages of life leave the patient They know when we need to be there to say our last good-byes. They can’t help us with this chore, and they can’t tell us how to do it to make the passing easier for our dear one. But they know all the symptoms of life leaving the body.

My question is how do the writers of this book know? 

As I spoke in my sister’s ear and told her I love her and urged her to sleep well, her breathing became faster and her eyes opened, unfocused, for a moment. I was sorry I spoke to her and wakened her from her journey. Perhaps it is best to leave the traveling to the dying because no matter how many people gather around, we still die alone. 

Even the little book says we withdraw from this world, gradually losing interest in reading, TV, news of the world around us, children and grandchildren, and we become totally self-absorbed. I imagine I would not be interested in the noisy television that seems to be a necessity in every hospital room. My sister said to turn it off.

When read to, she already seemed to be away, just smiling at the reader. My sister June had the nicest smile and the kindest heart. She would not be rude and say, “Stop reading. I don’t want to hear it.” Her smile became a sad expression in those last days as the hopelessness became more apparent. 

After watching death claim my loved ones, I understand that the process of dying is strenuous, is all consuming, and requires total self-absorption. 

Those of us left behind and grieving are just in the way. 

I think my sister would have liked to say to me, “Leave me alone. Go home now. I’m busy dying.”

And she completed that task only fifteen minutes later. 

Three sisters, Glenda, Gay and June in chair

Barry's Last Christmas - 2008

Althought he was not his usual jolly self, cracking jokes, or teasing Will, I never expected it to be his last Christmas. It was not a good time for him. He was in pain and already the cancer was coming back strong. But we didn't know it at that time. My sadness last December was because he suffered and I didn't know how long that might be. Christmas gifts seemed insignificant last year. But this photo of him is very significant to me. I know why isn't smiling, why his eyes are sad. I'd seen that look in my brother's eyes and I hurt when I think of the pain he suffered in silence.