Rage In The Machine

April 24, 2006

After returning home yesterday from seeing my parents I had a major bout of the blues, with a heaping side helping of rage. I am certainly grateful that I have been able to visit my mom several times since her prognosis was changed to terminal in February, and I wouldn't give this time up for any reason; however, it is brutally hard to be trapped waiting for the end to arrive.

My anger last night was in part at her for smoking for sixty years. We all have addictive personalities and sometimes it is harder than others to avoid the pitfalls our addictions carry with them. My mother felt that since both of her parents smoked and neither of them had lung disease or cancer that she would get away with it too. That her gamble failed fills me with sorrow for I know it cuts her life short. It also angers me as her life is now cut needlessly short.

What is so difficult about the swirling mess of emotions I am feeling now is not knowing what will set me off. It isn't big things like work or paying bills, but rather little things like getting a web site to load, or having the balky Tivo remote not work when I go to use it. I think that facing the imminent death of a loved one leaves you out of control on so many levels that you look for, consciously or unconsciously, little things to dominate to regain some semblance of control. When those little things don't work out as you planned, all hell breaks loose.

After I vented for about thirty minutes (breaking the kitchen trash can lid in the process) I cried for another half hour before coming down. Between the long two-day drive, and the dumping of so much high energy emotion I was wiped out. Shortly after 8:00 I was in bed, and by 9:00 I was asleep. This morning I feel better physically, but I'm still kind of numb emotionally.

Author's profile picture

Mark H. Nichols

I am a husband, cellist, code prole, nerd, technologist, and all around good guy living and working in fly-over country. You should follow me on Twitter.