Dear Patience

Dear Patience,

Where did you go?

I looked for you earlier, but you were gone away.

You were here on Thursday when we were watching the game and she kept forgetting that our team scored. You were right by my side when she cheered again and offered yet another high-five, which you happily accepted.

You were here yesterday when she forgot her sister’s name, and you hugged me later when she didn’t realize that the man we were talking about was her son. She forgot his name too, for a moment. You were fine with that. You patted me on the back and whispered, “it’s okay, she’ll remember.”

I was grateful to you then. I’m not sure if you could tell, but I was about to cry. It was your presence that calmed me, your warm embrace that allowed me to believe that I would get through. As heartbreaking as it was, you told me it would be all right. And it was.

I want you to know how much I appreciate you in those moments. Your soothing presence, your warm embrace, your calming words; they mean the world to me. They keep me grounded. They give me peace.

It’s in those moments that you’re my most trusted ally.

But why do you sometimes desert me?

Where were you last night when it was near midnight, and I couldn’t get her into bed because she had to fold down and pull up and fold down her sheets again twenty times?

She could sense my frustration.

When she told me “Go to hell if you don’t want to help me,” you were nowhere to be seen. I guess you’d already tucked yourself in for the night because it wasn’t your voice I heard in that moment. It was my own, and I yelled back at her.

Where were you this morning? When again, my frustration got the better of me, you pulled your disappearing act. Once more, I lost control and yelled at her.

You’re supposed to be my buffer, Patience. You’re meant to be my filter, not just for my sake, but for hers as well. Mostly though, you’re supposed to be my best friend.

So, why do you run when I need you most?

Don’t you see that when you choose flight, I choose fight?

Can’t you hear that when you stay silent, I scream?

When you hide in the corner smirking, I’m cowering in the spotlight blinded by tears. When you claim innocence, because, as you say, you weren’t even there; I’m standing front and centre, wracked by guilt.

Do you even care, Patience?

Oh sure, you always come back - when it’s too late. You’ll show up with your garden hose when the house has already burned to ash.

“For the embers,” you’ll say.

Well guess what, Patience?

There wouldn’t be any embers if you’d help me prevent the fire in the first place.

Your anti-venom wouldn’t be required if the biting words of my anger were never allowed out of their cage.

I wouldn’t need your defibrillator if my heart weren’t crushed under the weight of my own guilt.

All I need is for you to be here with me, to cover me, to shield me as I struggle through this battle. A battle not of my own making, not of her making either, but a battle with the cruelest of diseases that doesn’t give a damn about any of us.

Don’t you get it, Patience?

You’re supposed to be my trusted ally, yet sometimes you act like my greatest adversary. I thought you were my loyal protector, yet often you’re a spineless coward.

I’m sorry to tell you this, my fickle friend, but quite frankly, I’m running out of patience with you.

Painfully yours,

A. Caregiver