C-PAP Run...

 

In the back of my van, I have two C-PAP machines in a plastic drawstring NIKE bag. C-PAP stands for Continuous Positive Airway Pressure.  These machines blow air into your nostrils to keep your airways open while you're sleeping so you don't stop breathing. It's kind of like scuba diving in bed. I've had them there since my Dad passed away over a year ago. I don't need them, the doctors don't want them, the nursing homes don't want them. I thought I might sell them, but one year and two months after I took them out of the room where he spent his last days, there they sit, behind me, like two very well behaved kids without seat belts.

We have gone hundreds of miles--sometimes it's just us and sometimes my Mom comes along, too. I forget they are there and then I turn around and --oh, yes. I have not dealt with you yet, have I?  I don't mind them, they don't take up much room. But, when I catch a glimpse of my silent passengers, what it does remind me of is that it's been a long time since I looked around at my surroundings and took care of me. It's been two years of taking things one moment at a time, one day at a time, dealing with one crisis at a time.

Don't get me wrong. I have a lifetime of the best memories of my Dad and I miss him every day. We all do. But, those machines do not honor him in any way. They only remind me of the bad times at the end. They do not have any value to me. What they really represent is me not taking control of my life--me just accepting bad circumstances and letting them share my space.

My space. 

DECISION: The road trip is over for the C-PAP kids. They are out of the van and I found a place that buys used medical equipment (Advantage Medical Systems). I think I'll put that money towards some running shoes for me! Thanks, Dad!