How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?

You would think, or at least I think, after all this time and all we’ve been through with M and his disease progression, that it simply couldn’t break my heart any more. That all the tears had been shed and we were moving on.

But you would be wrong.

This morning, I had to talk to our insurance company (isn’t it always the insurance company?) about M’s prescriptions. In order to do that, we had to get him on a three-way call so he could give them permission to talk to me about his information.

The agent asked M for his date of birth, which he provided, and then for his address.

And now we have our first problem. M can’t tell her his address.

I was on the phone, too, so I suggested to M that he walk over to the counter where the mail is kept and look at it for our address. He did that and was able to provide our address – except for the state.

He kept looking at the bill he was reading from and he saw everything except which state we live in. And the representative wanted to hear that.

Finally, I said “you don’t live in New Jersey any more. Where do you live now?” And he remembered – North Carolina!

I don’t know what it was about that whole exchange – but it was all I could do to speak to the representative after M hung up the phone. All I wanted to do was to put my head down and weep.

Later today, I heard some sad news about a co-worker who is in bad health, and a friend and I were talking about it. She said something about how unfair a bad diagnosis is and then she looked at me and said “but I don’t have to tell you that – you know how unfair it is.” This friend became a widow in her 40s, so she and I are sadly familiar with just how unfair life can be.

I guess I don’t want my heart to be so hardened that I never cry again. Joy, pain, happiness, sadness, love, disappointment – they’re all a part of this life. It’s these curve balls – out of nowhere – that really send me spinning out of control.

I read once that the reason the earth is round is to keep you from seeing too far ahead. If you could see what the future holds for you, it would break your heart. Maybe that’s the problem – I CAN see my future – and M’s future – with this disease.

And it DOES break my heart.