November has been a month that I wasn’t really anticipating for Team Charlesworth. I mean, I knew that November was going to happen, but in my military mission planning, I hadn’t anticipated that both of us would be pretty much wiped out by illness. Both of us for the first time since Mr C died.
I’ve written before about how to help me manage work, childcare, dog-care and simply live my life, I plan like I’ve never planned before. And this from the woman who laminates holiday itineraries! But it’s something I have to do now; spontaneity isn’t really a word that is part of my vocabulary since being widowed. There are times that I think it would just be nice to be able to do something without having to plan it weeks or months in advance, but I’ve sort of made peace with it now. This is how my life is and generally speaking, we’ve got in a good routine. Family and friends are brilliant when it comes to helping with Miss C and I have the most amazing doggy home boarder. We’ve got this.
But on 3 November, this routine and control came crashing down. I woke up after a dreadful night and just felt so, so ill. A quick inspection of my throat, on the advice of my sister, revealed white spots at the back of my throat and on my tonsils. I felt like my throat was full of razor blades. I felt exhausted. I did something that I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d done for reasons other than my mental health. I called in sick. I knew that I simply couldn’t work. But, despite feeling so awful, I then did the school run. Because I had no option. I couldn’t simply go back to bed and get Mr C to do it. A few hours later I managed to speak to a doctor and was given a prescription for antibiotics. I rang my mum in tears because I just didn’t think I could drive to pick them up. She got this for me and brought it round. Other than that, I didn’t make it out of bed. I just had no strength to move. Until 3pm, when I went and did the school run.
It might sound silly, but part of me needed to do that school run. I needed to show my daughter that I was still able to function and do a certain number of “normal” things. The last time there was real illness in our house aside from the odd migraine or minor colds was when Mr C fell ill. I don’t ever want her panicking and worrying about me. But more than that. To organise someone else to do it took energy. There is no husband to step in and help me now. If I messaged someone and they couldn’t do it, I’d have to message someone else. And if they couldn’t do it, someone else. I merely didn’t have the headspace to organise this. The organiser was down. So, it became easier to do it myself.
Over the course of that weekend, I barely moved off the sofa. Except do the dancing run and pick up a parcel from Asda. Doing so resulted in me sleeping for three hours because I’d worn myself out. I slept an inordinate amount that weekend. I just couldn’t do anything. It felt like my entire body was being attacked. It felt like my body had simply said “you will stop.” But. I still have a child and a dog. I’m fortunate that my dog is fairly lazy and didn’t object to not being walked for days. But it’s not that easy with a child. She still needed looking after, she still needed feeding and all the things I’d usually do. But I couldn’t do it. She was amazing. She cared for me. She cooked all the meals. She put the shopping away when it was delivered. She sat and did her homework while I slept. Granted, I did query why she can’t do this when I’m not ill! But there was no alternative. In the same way she stepped in and cared for me when I fell apart when Mr C died, she was having to do it all again. This is the part of childhood bereavement that I think gets forgotten. In circumstances such as ours, children end up caring for adults. They take on a huge burden of responsibility. Because there is no-one else in the house to do it.
All of this made me feel exceptionally vulnerable. It reignited those feelings I’d had in the summer when I ended up in minor injuries with a head injury. Because while I’m not alone, it just reminded me that I am, on my own. And there is no obvious person to step in and help any more. I didn’t ask for this. Yet here I am, living and dealing with it. The feeling of vulnerability is always there, but sometimes it becomes all consuming. Being ill was another example of that.
It took me a good couple of weeks to feel human and feel like myself again. I knew that I had to listen to my body and not do too much. I was too scared of relapsing. But what I hadn’t known about tonsillitis until now was that it completely drains you, as well as giving you a sore throat. I couldn’t go to the office for a week because I had no energy. I had to go to bed early. I just had to rest and look after me.
And then. Just as I thought we were back on an even keel; Miss C fell ill last weekend. That military mission planning was really being tested. In the early hours of Monday morning, I awoke to her being sick. All over my bedroom carpet. Absolutely not her fault, illness is what it is, but it needed dealing with. But in a horrible reminder of the night Mr C went to ICU, I was once again torn. I knew she needed me to be with her and needed cuddles, but I also knew I had to clear up because to leave it until the morning would just make it worse. Once again, just as she was on 30 March 2020, she had to be on her own for a little bit. It was triggering for me. The guilt I feel towards her about being on her own when our entire world was collapsing is something that I don’t think will ever leave me.
But just a few hours later, the alarm went off for me to get up for work. I was knackered. Fortunately, I was working from home, but I was juggling a sick child and work for the first time. That vulnerability and feeling of being on my own kicked in again. There was no trade off. There was no-one for me to say to “can you sit with her today while I work, and then I’ll do it tomorrow?” I was juggling it all on my own. My mum and stepdad took over for me on Wednesday so that I was able to go into the office, but I’ve not been able to go in as much as I’d planned to this week. The military planning hasn’t worked this week. Because, at the end of the day, what my daughter wants and needs when she’s ill is a parent. There’s nothing quite like a hug from your parent when you’re sick. And I’m the only one she’s got now. I know how hard that is for her. Especially when she’s feeling ill. It’s time like this that you miss the person you’ve lost even more. She hasn’t said it, but I strongly suspect she’s feeling just as vulnerable as me right now. And that loss is feeling even more paramount. As she went to bed the other night she looked at me and said, “thank you for caring for me.” I told her it’s what I’ll always do. It’s what she’ll always do. We’ll care for each other forever. Because the last three and a half years have taught us even more that it’s what we need to do. Nothing else really matters except the two of us.
Yet as well as having someone to care for us in sickness, I’ve also really missed that person to care for us in health. I’m rapidly approaching four years into this new life of mine, but over the past few months, I’ve felt his absence that little bit more. When opportunities have presented themselves, I’ve not had anyone at home with me to discuss and sanity check them with. To just talk through the pros and cons. I’ve had to apply for a mortgage on my own for the first time and be the sole person to make financial decisions about our future. No-one to discuss it with. Likewise, when I was ill, I didn’t have that sounding board and person to talk to. To be able to look after me and our daughter. While Miss C has been ill, I’ve not had that person to bounce thoughts off. To stop me googling her symptoms at 3:30am. To help me rationalise.
This month and our illnesses have been firsts for us. And they’re probably firsts that no-one really thinks about. In a way I consider myself lucky that it’s taken over three years for us to face them. But at the same time, it’s been a stark reminder that our lives are changed forever. We no doubt still have so much more ahead of us that will be firsts that we aren’t expecting. But one thing I do know. The formidable team that is me and Miss C will face them headlong together. It’s what we do. And nothing and no-one will ever break us.
Life is a rollercoaster 