Sitting in Limbo (#1307)

Topics/tags: Autobiographical, Michelle

Warning! May induce tears. (At least it induced tears for the writer.)

Sitting here in limbo
But I know it won’t be long
Sitting here in limbo
Like a bird without a song

Back in March or April, our friends Danika and Jeb were planning another one of their covers extravaganzas. Basically, they gather a bunch of cover requests, spend a few months developing their original covers of those songs, and then put on a few shows in which they perform the tunes. Since they usually perform on StageIt, they can fit about ten songs in a show. I think the first time they had one of these, they gathered only ten songs or so, so it fit in one show. The second time, they gathered about twenty, ten for the early show and ten for the late. Most recently, they gathered 27 requests, which they played over three weeks.

Well, they’re
Putting up resistance
But I know that my faith
Will lead me on

Michelle and I each had the opportunity to choose a few songs. Michelle’s first choice was Jimmy Cliff’s Sitting in Limbo from the soundtrack album of The Harder They Come. If you haven’t heard the album, you should open it in your favorite streaming service (or buy it) and start listening; it’s a wonderful combination of some of Jimmy Cliff’s greatest songs and a variety of Reggae classics.

Sitting here in limbo
Waiting for the dice to roll
Sitting here in limbo
Got some time to search my soul

Both Danika and I cried when we reflected on the choice. Perhaps we even snot sobbed, in the parlance of our friend John. I don’t know about Jeb; I didn’t get a chance to talk to him. But to Danika and me, the song sounded like someone getting ready to die. And we didn’t want to think about Michelle preparing to die.

Well, they’re
Putting up resistance
But I know that my faith
Will lead me on

I brought up that interpretation with Michelle. She said something like, That’s not why I chose it. I don’t think of it as a song about death. It’s just that I feel like my life is currently in limbo; I’m not moving forward, but I’m not moving backward. And when I reflected upon it, it made sense. Michelle spent most of her life actively working toward something or on something, usually improving healthcare in our community or taking care of people. Suddenly, she was in a state where her main focus was herself and caring for herself.

I don’t know where life will lead me
But I know where I’ve been
I can’t say what life will show me
But I know what I’ve seen

With twenty-seven songs to arrange and learn, Danika and Jeb didn’t manage to put on the shows until July. Particularly given some of her health issues over the summer, I worried that Michelle would never get to hear the covers. But she made it through a worrisome summer and was doing well by the time the shows came around. And she really loved what they’d done with Sitting in Limbo. We enjoyed listening to it together at a few shows.

Tried my hand
At love and friendship
But all that is passed and gone
This little boy is moving on

The song has now taken on a different meaning, perhaps one closer to the one Danika and I first heard. Over the past four weeks, since our 37th anniversary, I’ve been sitting and sleeping with Michelle in the hospital [1]. It definitely feels like a kind of limbo. She’s gotten a bit better. She’s gotten a bit worse. No matter the change, we’re here in this room.

Sitting here in limbo
Waiting for the tide to flow
Sitting here in limbo
Knowing that I have to go

Well, that’s not quite true. After the first two weeks, when Michelle had improved far beyond exceptions, we managed to schedule what I’ve been calling a jail break. We borrowed a van, put her in her wheelchair, and drove her home (we only visited the outside) and out to lunch. That was close to the last time that she was able to get out of her bed. By a few days later, it was no longer safe. Nonetheless, this week, the awesome caregivers found a way to borrow a transport bed so that we could take her outside.

Well, they’re
Putting up resistance
But I know that my faith
Will lead me on

We’ve gotten estimates from her doctors, but they’ve been wrong. We have more than two extra weeks that prove them wrong. She’s a stubborn woman. A determined woman. And she clearly wanted more time with her family.

I can’t say what life will show me
But I know what I’ve seen
I can’t say where life will lead me
But I know where I’ve been

Nonetheless, we’re here. Here in this hospital room. And we’re in limbo, an interstitial space between a world in which she’s alive and a world in which she’s not, a world where we can feel her physical presence and one where we can’t.

Tried my hand
At love and friendship
But all that is passed and gone
This little boy is moving on

It’s also not quite true that things get better and worse and better and worse and …. Some things just get worse. Her stomach only gets bigger, even though she’s not eating. I hate imagining the cancer growing there. I wish I had my friend Ralph’s words and wisdom to write about the horror I feel. Or perhaps I don’t wan’t Ralph’s talents. Maybe I just want to forget about what’s happening. At least it doesn’t seem to be hurting her. That’s the important thing.

Sitting here in limbo
Waiting for the tide to flow
Sitting here in limbo
Knowing that I have to go

The limbo I’m in is also spatial. I’m here. I’m not home (except for an hour or two each day). I’m not at work (except for classes). I’m not out shopping. I’m not at meetings. I’m in a hospital room, with my wife, doing what I can to support her. Valuing the experience of just being with her.

Well, they’re
Putting up resistance
But I know that my faith
Will lead me on

Sitting in this room with her has become strangely normal. Back when we first got the notification that the chemo had stopped working and her body was giving up, it was terrifying. But we’ve been sitting in this room for four weeks now, and my mind has nearly normalized it. Just as the sun rises each morning, I’ll wake up in the hospital room each morning, sitting next to her, reaching out to touch her, hoping she feels my love, believing she does. And from that perspective, this limbo is wonderful. I must remember that.

Sitting in limbo, sitting in limbo (limbo, limbo, limbo)
Sitting in limbo, sitting in limbo (limbo, limbo, limbo)
Sitting in limbo, sitting in limbo (limbo, limbo, limbo)
Sitting in limbo, limbo, limbo
Sitting in limbo (limbo, limbo, limbo)

[1] I’m not at the hospital 24/7, but I’m here fairly close to 22 hours on most non-teaching days and about 18 hours on teaching days. I appreciate the people who sit with her when I can’t be with her.

Version 1.0 of 2024-09-24.