Monday, March 24, 2014

Chapter Three: Devastation, Part V: January 2010


January 15, 2010

I couldn’t hold it in anymore so today I told Carey, my church friend that I’ve known for twenty years. I got her a job at my dementia community as director of nursing. It’s been wonderful working with her because we go to different wards now and I don’t get to see her very much. Now I see her every day.

Anyway, at the end of the day I went into her office and shut the door. I looked at her and blurted out, “Jerry’s cheating on me,” and started to cry. Of course, she comforted me and said a few choice words about Jerry and called him unmentionable names.

That’s why I like Carey. She’s not afraid to let her anger show like I am. I keep everything bottled up inside. I’m so glad I got that out and allowed her to comfort me. I don’t know how long I sat in her office and she just let me.

When I got back to my office that I share with the director, Isabella, she could see I was distraught. I broke down again and Isabella confided in me that she was going through the same thing with her husband. We exchanged our experiences and I said I felt like we were married to the same guy.

She said, in her rich, Haitian-French accent, “Are you sure your husband isn’t black?” and we both had a good laugh. Laughing felt good. Such a foreign feeling lately.

So I have a good confidante. Isabella hasn’t told anyone at work either, so we can talk and console each other and we will be able to understand what we each are going through.

I have to remember I’m her subordinate, so I will let her lead the way as to how much can really be shared, although she told me she is having the same hormone release that I am. She has only been able to eat soup. I can only keep down Cream of Wheat, a very little bowl, which is served almost every day for breakfast at the cottage where I work. I try to eat, but can’t put more than one bite in my mouth and I choke that down.

2 comments:

Daniella Pantal said...

The year of my divorce : What a relief it was to be able to share my feelings with someone who knew first hand what I was experiencing. The verbally abusive man..can he change? By Patricia Evans.. .Wrapped in brown paper. What a gift!

Susan said...

Daniella, I'm sorry I just saw this. Thanks so much for your comment. It means so much to me. We helped each other. I will always appreciate you for that.