To care and protect

My mission since Burt’s diagnosis [the big scary dx] more than 4 years ago has been to protect him.

Of course. That’s it. I have pinpointed my malaise.

I can’t fix this as one of the prompts in my grief writing support group put it. That phrase sums up my frustration in the most succinct way.

Now, it’s that I cannot protect him from getting bed sores.

Pressure wounds are a danger when he’s bedbound. I can try, and I can diligently observe and treat.

I need to be able to turn him. I cannot. I need assistance, and even then, it is I who is assisting.

He’s helpless, and I feel helpless to help.

There is the formula for my current sorrows. For now, I have pinpointed my malaise.

I will wonder what needs fixing that I cannot fix. How can I meet my mission to care and protect if I am helpless to fix this?

There will be other sadness. Different sorrow. I can’t fix it but