Saturday, December 6, 2008

Drowning in Empathy

On Friday I received an email from one of my oldest friends, Kathi, that explained to me how her dad had just decided to withhold kidney dialysis treatment and, in turn, end the life of his that diabetes has severely compromised.

I was surprised by the visceral reaction I had to this email. I was reading it in my classroom with several students around and I immediately started weeping. Two girl students came over to hug me and hand me tissues, the two boy students looked on slightly horrified and scared. After about five minutes I got it together, apologized, and the rest of the period the kids tried to cheer me up by showing me the new Brittney Spears video.

The email overwhelmed me with emotions b/c Kathi's dad has finally hit the wall my dad hit 12 1/2 years ago. While my dad's body made the choice for him--he went into the hospital for a blister on his heel and never came out--their lives were both dictated by diabetes. They both lost extremities due to lack of circulation, their eyesight had been compromised, their kidneys had failed...and a host of other issues. Diabetes isn't as vilified as cancer or heart disease, but let me assure you that it is a slower, more methodical way of tearing your body(and often spirit) to pieces.

Right now in Virginia, my friend is spending as much time with her dad until he slips into an unconsciousness from which he'll never wake up. For all of us who have lost a parent, we know the years of hurt that await her and the constant reminder that this parent missed out on the many milestones of life that lay ahead for Kathi and her two year old daughter. I literally ache for her right now. The empathy I feel is palpable; I am swimming in it and reliving the loss of my dad whenever I think of her.

And I find myself repeatedly so astounded by the brevity of each life. I mean, doesn't it just blow your mind when you contemplate that this gig we have going here isn't forever? I completely understand this fact and still cannot fathom my own life ending and leaving everyone I love, especially my daughter, behind. Too huge and too much to grasp.

If you have a moment in your thoughts, please send some comforting prayers, energy, whatever you believe in to Kathi and her family.

2 comments:

  1. Oh honey, I am just reading this now. It still breaks my heart. Thank you for expressing this in a way that I never could. Your thoughts, prayers, and kind words from this entry and the cards you sent us mean more to me than you know. Although I know he is now in a better place, the hole that has been ripped in my heart will never heal. Love you bunches. xoxo

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  2. we have so many random things in common (adoption, bio moms, dads with diabetes) but i'm sad that now we both no longer have our dads, too. i feel for you, big time. love you, too.

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