Spent.
This seems to be the word that pops in my mind when some of my friends checked on me today. It's been a whirlwind experience - trying to help myself recover from my muscle tear, while bearing sole responsibility to care for my parents.
I received a call last Friday - my paternal aunt had a ruptured tumor in her pelvis AND she had contracted Covid. I did what I could to get information and to see how I could help, while juggling work and home responsibilities. My to-do list seemed endless. I developed a severe migraine over the weekend, which meant I could barely function. Then Tuesday came, and the shocking news came - my aunt had passed. And I spent that day trying to figure out how to support my surviving aunts who were supposed to be in quarantine but was forced to run around.
I'm thankful a friend volunteered to make calls for me to get information as I had used up spoons I couldn't afford to use - depleting my energy and feeling the strain, the literal burden on my shoulders. And I'm thankful for two conversations I had that lifted my spirits - just reminiscing an old memory of the fun times we've had.
But I think I'm feeling the effects of my depleted resources. I'm feeling spent, drained beyond all measure, while allowing myself to grieve. I'm still very much in the state of shock as my aunt's death was so sudden. I went for my physiotherapy today and my physio pointed out that my neck, shoulder and torn muscle area was swollen and tensed. And my physio warned that I need to be careful in order not to re-injure myself. It feels like my months of physio has become somewhat undone.
sigh.
