how long does shock last?

. . . I about fell over in shock.

Yesterday afternoon my Dad and I were sitting in the front yard soaking up some sun. After a few minutes his breathing got short and shallow and he got a bit pastey and we needed to take him back inside.

He remarked that he thinks he is still in shock, and this makes sense to me. He's gotten all settled into his bedroom, but the yard, the yard is new territory. He can see things out-of-place and he can't pop up to go make them right. I think new places hammer in the magnitude of this life change.

I feel the same way when I visit him and his chair is in a new location. I've gotten my head around my Dad being horizontal in a hospital bed in a room full of medical things. When I dropped by the other day and found him in his chair in the dining room I about fell over in shock. "Oh my word! Dad's in a wheelchair!" The combinations of chair and room have to be processed, for me, one-by-one. I didn't expect this.

Is this what it is like when member of a household dies? That you know it, but that you have to keep re-learning it? That even though you are working through your grief the practical ordinary details of daily life knock you over? As in, "oh, right, they are gone."? That you can know something and still lose your breath when you realize it? How long does the shockiness last?

:: this post is included in the disability blog carnival hosted at Pilgrim Girl


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