The C Word – Epilogue

December 31, 2019

It is New Year’s Eve – preparing to launch in the year 2020.  It is so hard for me to imagine that I have lost two husbands in these first two decades of the 21^st century. 

Twenty years ago was when all the Y2K hoopla was going on.  What were computers going to do when it rolled from 1999 to 2000?  Huge amounts of money spent on research to protect the world from going into some cosmic meltdown in regards to technology and the internet. 

Twenty years ago Mike and friends made the plans for the church to have a Y2K party.  Music, games, songs and laughter ruled the night.  We didn’t know it would be the last New Years Party, let alone just a party, that Mike would be at.  We still had a lifetime ahead of us.  We had plans.

This year I enter the new decade alone.  Unlike Y2K when we thought we had years ahead of us as a couple and a family, this one I enter with a sense of loss.  Loss of my partner and husband, loss of the feeling of home, loss of the retired future we had looked forward to. 

Yet I must move forward.  Every movement I make is bittersweet, whether it be doing some traveling, working around the house, cleaning out the plethora of tools and nuts and bolts of the garage, preparing to get the house ready to sell.  While some of these were thoughts that I had to keep me going during George’s illness, the actuality of doing them brings me sadness.  After fifteen years of caregiving, the only person I have to take care of is me… yet even that is difficult to do right now. 

The first year of the new millennium decade (2000) and the last year of this decade(2019) have not been kind ones.  They’ve been times of loss, struggle, depression.  I’ve had to let go of what was and start over again. For the first four years of George’s cancer diagnosis there have been periods of darkness and hopelessness, but overall they weren’t too bad (well, factor out 2016 when he needed two separate surgeries).  This last year, however, was not a great one for the entire time.  For the first nine months George struggled with so many health issues that took their toll on his weakened condition.  And, for me, the last few months I’ve struggled with loneliness like never before. 

While I am now free to roam about the world in a way I could not before, the price of that freedom is not something I would wish on anyone.  I’ve been telling myself for years that I needed to be patient, that the day would come when I wouldn’t be needed to care for someone.  That time is here and there is a part of me that is sad about that. 

As horrible as 2019 was, I would do it over again in a heartbeat if it meant that I could hold George’s hand a little bit longer or snuggle up to him and fall asleep in the crook of his arm just one more time. 

The C word story has come to a close – but the feelings and emotions will linger long into the future.  The C word has changed my life forever.  It has changed the lives of all those who have been connected to us over the years. 

George, if you’re out there, know that you will never be forgotten.  You will be remembered for your strength of character, for smiling on the outside even when you were hurting on the inside.  You’re a witness to the power of faith and the power of prayer, something you talked about on Father’s Day in 2015.  When people talk to me about you, they talk about how your eyes sparkled during conversations, about how ‘good’ you looked all the way to the end.  They attest to the strength you showed in battling this disease and your positive attitude.  They will not forget you. 

I love you and miss you every single day.  Your whole family does as well.  We will keep putting one step in front of the other because that is what you would want us to do.  We will keep sharing our stories of you to keep your memory alive.  As a family, we will be there for one another, to help each other cope. 

Thank you for loving me for the past twenty years.  I love you, always and forever. 

…. Your Angelface

The C Word – Farewell My Sweet George

It has been an incredibly long few days.  At 1:30 this morning we all finally decided to go to sleep.  George was breathing quick yet easy.  He wasn’t ready to go yet even though it was September 30 and the five year anniversary of his first cancer surgery.  We figured George was waiting for today so that he could say, “aha!  I made it to five years!”  We also thought he was playing a joke on me for when I made him wait a few extra seconds at the end of the aisle on our wedding day 17 years ago.  Practical joker that he is.

We all went to bed and went to sleep.  Sara slept lightly, of course, as she took on the role of eyes and ears.  Early this morning she heard me snoring and then stop.  She heard George take a breath.  And then she heard nothing.

I had woken briefly and also heard George take a breath.  Unbeknownst to me, it was his last one.  We quickly gathered the rest of the girls into the room.  After a few moments of holding him, I phoned hospice and got the ball rolling.  Although our clock said approximately 5:40AM – Time of death is posted at 6:16 when the hospice nurse arrived. 

As we awaited the Neptune Society to come by, we sat and talked.  I held George’s hand, his face.  I kissed him over and over.  Steph again placed herself by his left hand and held on.  It wasn’t until they came to pick up his body that she completely fell apart.  She did not want to let go of his hand.  Sara helped get her off the bed as I told her she did not want to be present for what was happening next.  Sara took her to the living room.  Becke stayed with me as we watched them wrap George up and wheel him out on the gurney.  We walked behind them and watched as they loaded him in the van.  It was then that I broke down sobbing.

It's over.  His pain is gone.  He’s whole again.  But boy will I sure miss him so much. 

And now my new life also begins.  Life without George.  I will be busy the next few weeks taking care of affairs. 

I am so grateful for my children who have been her loving on me and making sure I eat and drink (and I’m sure sleep).  This is a different loss than when Mike died.  It feels different – in a good way. 

I know that many friends will step in over the next few days, weeks and months.  They will help me make the transition.  They will help me make some decisions.  I have been waiting for so long to have some freedom to move about and go places and now I can do that.  I will do that with George in my heart and on my mind.  He would want me to keep going.  He prepared me for this.

Rest in peace, my sweet husband.  You are in the arms of the Angels and celebrating with those who went before.  I love you…. Forever and always.

Your Angelface

The C Word – The End is Near

This morning the breathy death rattle began.  I summoned the girls into the room and got hold of Rosemary and Denise.  Since 10AM this morning we have been sitting together in the bedroom, holding vigil over George.  He is unresponsive for the most part except for an occasional squeeze of the hand or what appears to be a perfectly timed twitch.

Sara and Becke have been fetching food and drinks for everyone.  Sitting on the floor or in chairs, we wait and wait.  I am at George’s head – softly stroking his head and holding his left hand, the one with the wedding band, the one we would jokingly claim as “mine”. 

This room has heard many stories today – some funny memories, some poignant memories, some tears.  Christian music in the background, quietly keeping our eyes on the goal. 

I’ve been able to keep George comfortable with various medications.  After ten hours we are now joking that George wants to pass on the 5 year anniversary of his first major surgery for this beast – tomorrow, September 30.  Of course, we pray peace comes sooner, but if he does plan on waiting, hopefully it will be right after the stroke of midnight and not later tomorrow.

Sara and Becke are now bringing Denise home and picking up clothes for Rosemary who will spend the night with us.  We are all in this together.  Patiently waiting for the hand of God to reach down and carry George home. 

I have whispered into George’s ears all day – it’s time to go home, we love you, your body is so tired, it’s time to let go.  I’ve whispered the Lord’s Prayer, or sung a song along with something playing on one of our phones. 

Steph is reading some bible verses to Rosemary, myself and George.  She has done well today in maintaining composure and being in the moment. 

The end is so near yet it is not here yet. 

Come, Lord Jesus, come bring your son home.

George – we love you so much and we will miss you.  We await to see your angel face.

The C Word – Day 1,872

We made it through another day and another night.  There have been some difficult moments throughout the past 36 hours.

Trying to keep George’s restlessness under control is like being a chemist in a trial.  Which meds and at which doses work best to calm his twitching body. 

He had a couple of visitors yesterday and he was able to respond to them a little bit.  We laughed when he told Stan.  “When I first met you I thought you were going to be a stuffed shirt.”

Earlier in the morning as Sara and I sat visiting in the room with him, I leaned over and whispered, “I love you – forever and always” (something I’ve done a lot over the past few days).  He squinted his eyes and looked over at me and said, “Ok, what do you want now?” (as if my saying that was because I wanted something from him.)  Needless to say, Sara and I busted out laughing!  He had a few of those moments – those gifts to us to show his sense of humor is still alive and well.

He had a hard time keeping his eyes closed yesterday even though he was very tired.  That glassy-eyed look of confusion, of being somewhere between two worlds.  Just as he would start to doze off his eyes would fly open.  Finally, in early afternoon, I found the right cocktail that allowed him to sleep peacefully for the rest of the day and into the evening.  Throughout the day we’d go and lay with him, talk to him.

He was agitated again last night for a bit and it took awhile to figure out the right cocktail once again.  Finally, at 1:30, I found it and we both slept well.  Something I really needed.

We shall see what today brings.  I’m grateful to my daughters who are here to support me – make sure I eat, etc.  We are pulling together, preparing to say our final goodbye.

The C Word – Day 1,870

Today we learned that George’s creatinine spiked to 5.3 from 2.1 a few days ago.  This is “severe failure”.  The result is that George is now off his nightly TPN feedings as the vitamins and nutrients in those will not absorb or filter because of the kidney.

Today George asked to stay in bed.  He grows weaker by the day.  I suspect by later today he will be bedridden – which is safer for him. 

He had several visitors today.  His best friend, Larry.  A former boss and his wife Joe and Jill. Also the hospice doctor and our nurse. 

By the time they all left he was exhausted.  I checked in on him from to time.  Sometimes he was sleeping, sometimes just laying there.

We have converted him to all liquid meds for ease of administering.

This evening as I climbed in next to him, he asked a question, then made a random statement.  These verbal statements continued for the next few hours.  I think I finally dozed off.  He was asleep the whole time he chatted.

 Tonight he went camping – in his head – as he declared that everything was packed into the big boxes.

He also told someone that “That’s my brother John.” – which means he has begun to see those who have come before him.

Right now the biggest issue is his body twitching.  His whole body is repeatedly twitching.  I phoned hospice and asked if there was something I could give him.  She suggested one of the new medications that was delivered tonight.  She said give it 15 minutes before it starts working and if he’s not calmed down within 45 minutes to administer Lorazapem.  I have a feeling it will be the latter as his body is still going full bore and it’s been a half hour.

Going to be a long sleepless night for me. And honestly I believe that George will not last more than a few days.  His body is ready to let his soul loose.

The C Word – Day 1,869

It sounds like such a big number, doesn’t it? 1,869.  That’s how many days it has been since I started this blog on August 9, 2014.  In the world of cancer, that is a huge number.  Many Stage IV patients die within weeks or months of diagnosis.  We’ve had five years.  They’ve been five long years of incredible twists and turns, of bottomless lows and mountaintop highs. 

And now, here we are, getting ready for the final days when we shall remain here while George gets his angel wings. 

It is surreal. To think that within perhaps days that George won’t be among us.  That he won’t have the TV on non-stop during the day tuned into CNN or REELZ TV, or watching The View and The Talk… even enjoying watching my one soap, The Young and The Restless. 

I won’t be hearing, “Honey, can I have something to eat?”,  “Can you fill up my water cup?”, “Thank you for taking care of me today.” 

I have been longing to have my fully-functioning husband back for years now, but instead he became more and more incapacitate.  This week he has stopped being able to write with a pen.  That horrified me! The tremors and shaking becoming more pronounced.  Needing a hand to hold to stand up, to walk and, at night, to just hold and give him a sense of calm and peace. 

All our children are here (well, mostly).  The grandkids are here until Saturday morning.  Chris and Mandy will take their kids back to Roseville – leaving just our daughters here for however long this takes.  So we can be together when George crosses over. 

Yesterday was a busy day not only with kids arriving but many visitors…. Too many actually.  George was a bit overwhelmed.  Today we will have several hospice people coming in – the nurse, maybe the hospice doctor, maybe a home health aide to show me how to give a proper sponge bath.  Friends, Larry, Jill & Joe are on the schedule.  Tomorrow the last of the visitors I will allow will come, Hong and Jose.  After that, for our sake, we need to limit visitors to only family (and those friends who are family to us). 

This is our sacred time.  Our time to be present in the moment, becoming aware of the signs that tell us George is ready to leave.  Ready to see Jesus and live on in eternity.  It is hard for us to let go of his earthly body.  Really hard.  Hard because my “book” (blog) will come to an end.  Silenced by the one thing that was necessary to keep it going. 

The C Word – Never Prepared

Tuesday night, Sept 24:  Five years – this cancer journey is five years old.  In August we “celebrated” five years since diagnosis.  On the 30^th of September it will be five years since his first mega-surgery.

We’ve learned that the average life span of someone with PMP is five years.  In one sense, we’ve beaten those odds as we know that the cancer likely started in 2007.  But the clock really began ticking on August 9, 2014 and on September 30, 2014.

We have read enough information, other people’s posts, to know that the odds were stacked against us.  We have fought this battle for so long. 

I have said that I have been saying goodbye to George for a long time.  Goodbye each time he is unable to do something he used to love…. Playing with his grandchildren…. Making things out of wood… playing golf… and more recently going out for a bite to eat.  As each of those things that make life special started being taken from him it was a stab in the back for him.  Little by little he has lost his identity. 

Similar to losing his mom who had Alzheimer’s, this has been a long good-bye. 

Up to this point I have done a good job of holding it together.  I’ve had moments of tears in the silence of my bed at night.  But I’ve tried to remain positive and encouraging, tried to keep my eyes forward.  Not exactly denying what was coming  - although for periods of time when George was feeling well that we didn’t feel as threatened. 

But no matter how much you prepare, no matter how much you think you are prepared – the simple truth is…. You are NEVER prepared for the end. 

This past week has been difficult.  Although I had a plan for making a lot of different things for the craft show next month, I slowly removed some things from that list.  It was self-imposed pressure and I didn’t need that stress.  I reduced my scope of projects – and then reduced it yet again.  As George has been feeling less and less well, I am compelled to be by his side as much as possible.  I am certain that I have enough things to sell at this point.  Time to stop.  Time to be in the moment. 

In the past two days George has gotten suddenly weaker, suddenly more tired.  Yet, in a surprising ‘move’, his peg drain started to flow after not putting out anything for nearly two weeks.  And it flowed a lot.  I noticed, however, that the odor and scent of the drain fluid was not normal.  The other ‘new’ thing is that George is needing pain meds and nausea meds more frequently than before.  He keeps saying he is just not feeling well. 

I look at him and I can see it all in his face. The fatigue. The lack of energy. The discomfort.  None of this is normal.  What is going on?

This evening I decided to text our surgeon doctor and update him on the past few days – the drain issue, the fatigue, the discomfort and nausea.  And then I asked something I’ve never done before – I asked him “How were George’s labs this week?”  Within a half hour my phone range.  It was Dr. B.  He called to tell me that George is having kidney failure.  One of the creatinine/kidney tests showed an elevated number as compared to all prior tests.  He says he would like to have another test done soon so he can get a more accurate picture of what is going on and see the rate of progression.  While there is an in-hospital treatment to help drain the kidneys, the fact that the blockage is likely caused by a tumor means that it really wouldn’t help.  Thus, he is not recommending this.

He has now said that we should soon decide when to stop TPN.  If the kidneys are failing, he’s going to die relatively soon and there is no need to continue TPN at that point. 

As I write this, I am in bed with George who has been sleeping soundly for hours now.  He has no idea what I have learned, and I will not wake him to tell him.  He needs his sleep.  We will deal with this in the morning.

We now have a time frame for him – and it is a short one.  I cry.  I am in shock.  While I knew this was coming, I thought I was prepared…. I am not.  My only prayer at this point is that we keep him comfortable for whatever time he has left – and that the family has a chance to say goodbye. 

Wednesday, Sept 25:

George awoke in the wee hours of the morning.  Since we were both awake, I decided to tell him what Dr. Bastidas had said.  I’m sure he heard me – but he had almost no reaction.  And promptly fell back to sleep. 

When he got up this morning and I queried if he remembered what I said last night, he said, “If I take TPN off I die.”  I told him that the kidney failure will kill him before the lack of TPN. Other than that he didn’t say much else.

How quickly things have changed.  Today he can barely stand on his two feet, requiring assistance to walk around the house.  He can’t write his name legibly.  He can’t remember that September is the 9^th month, not the 10^th.  This is part of the dying process.

It takes a lot of effort to die.  His body is transitioning even as I speak.  There are several signs for when death is a week or two away – and he is beginning to exhibit some of them.  His hands clutch and unclutch the blanket on his lap.  His feet stir as if going somewhere.  His lips move as if he is talking to someone.  And, he likely is.  There are plenty who have gone before him.  Waiting for him.  When I go in to check on him, he tells me he has been talking to me.  I told him to tell me when he starts talking to his mom, brother or dad. 

But am I truly ready to say goodbye? After all, I’ve been preparing for this for five years.  It should be a piece of cake.  But it’s not.  It is just as hard as losing someone quickly and tragically as I have experienced already.  I may not grieve in the same way as before – but I will grieve.  I will miss having someone who knows me so well.  Someone who has loved me more than anyone else – except maybe my kids and grandkids and my mom.  But they don’t count.  They didn’t have a choice…  He did. 

Up until recently, George wasn’t ready either.  He wasn’t ready to leave his loved ones behind.  He wasn’t ready to let go of his earthly treasures and his earthly body.  Looking at him right now, I think he is on his way to being ready to leave.  His body is tired and weak.  He has fought so hard to get to where he is today.  It’s time for us to get ready to say goodbye and God speed. 

The pain is unbelievable.  I’m not prepared to let him go – but I know he must go. 

The C Word – August 2019 in Review

Where oh where has the time gone?  For me I have been absolutely swamped with sewing to get ready for an October show.  It’s 6 weeks away and I still have tons to do.  I got sidetracked by a sweet lady who has given me thousands of dollars of brand new fabric.  Much more than I will use so I set up for a sale today.  That diverted about 10+ hours of my time that I needed to work on bowl cozies!  Oh well – back to that tomorrow. 

This has been a mixed bag for us where George is concerned.  He is beginning to exhibit more symptoms than ever before.  Much more fatigue.  When he sleeps he sleeps very soundly, not waking to knocks on the door or phones ringing.  More aches and pains which means more Tylenol and, in some cases, Norco.   He asked to have his antidepressant increased and that is helping slightly I think.  We’ve needed to add back in a few more meds.  He was down to 9 pills a day and now is up to 11 or 12.  That number is due to increase shortly.

His first six months on hospice is up in just a few weeks so we had a visit from the nurse practitioner, Jodie.  She is the one who evaluates for Medicare. She was very nice and informative, had a great sense of humor.  She spent nearly 90 minutes here.  She feels that the extra fluid buildup in George’s belly area may be what is causing George to get dizzy upon standing and also influencing how he feels overall.  She said there is a steroid that he can take that may reduce the fluid buildup as well as some of the gunk that may be adhering to the tumors (it will not shrink the tumors). 

By now George believes that the two largest tumors are (a) the size of a softball and (b) the size of a golf ball.  That is so hard to imagine, isn’t it? 

Of course, all of this makes the mind go crazy.  Imagining what is coming.  Starting to believe things are changing for the worse.  Frightened that it may be closer than ever before. 

We continue to lean on our faith and the fact that when it is time George will go through the narrow door to the heavenly realms.  Trying to prepare the way can sometimes be daunting.  But prepare we must. 

The C Word – Day 1,825

This is a day we never thought we would arrive at.  One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days.  Five years.  Five very long years.

As George says, “It’s 5 years from when we first heard that word – Cancer.  But I’ve been fighting it for 12 years since a scan back in 2007 actually showed what was the first ‘seed’, the first tumor that went unnoticed and undiagnosed for seven years.” 

We’ve had quite a roller coaster for the past five years… as husband and wife… as survivor/patient and caregiver… as advocates and educators… as a family. 

We are still amazed at the people who have stepped up or showed up for us when we’ve needed it.  For the many who tell us we are in their daily prayers.  Although cards have slowed down, there were some amazing surprises in the early days of learning this diagnosis. 

George has a few great friends who call to chat regularly.  A couple will pop by for visits a few times a month. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t give a huge shout out to Dr. Bastidas.  Without his knowledge and skillful hands, George would not be here today.  He is more than a surgeon, he is a friend.

We have an amazing group of daughters who have learned to be flexible with family plans and who take the time to check in now and then. 

While it can be hard to stay connected during times of isolation, these things help us to stay connected on some level to the greater world.  Our own world has gotten so little that those little ‘trips’ to escape via talking and visiting with other are crucial to our survival.  A chance to get outside of the bubble we seem to be in. 

The past five years have seen George progress slowly on this journey.  Once a robust, vibrant, healthy and active man, now he has so little energy and stamina that short jaunts out of the house turn into exhaustion when we get home.  The garage sits pretty much as it did five years ago although there was a period of time that he created one or two things out there.  The wood that he purchased on that fateful diagnosis day still sits in various parts of the garage – the plans for the dual Adirondack chair still sitting on a clipboard.  A plan gone awry, but the memory is still there. 

We miss what was supposed to be, what might have been.  The hope we had that once Mom was gone and George was retired would be spent doing some traveling or building or making new memories are gone, but not forgotten.  We yearn for that.  This is not how we anticipated our senior years to be.

Our wedding song, “Grow Old Along With Me, the Best is Yet to Be” cut short.  This is certainly not the best by any stretch of the imagination.  The past five years have been grueling.  They have tested our relationship.  We still stand together and we still stand strong.  But what we wouldn’t give for just another taste of freedom from cancer, from pain, from certain death.  What we wouldn’t give to have the past five years erased, perhaps have a ‘do-over’. 

We tell people to not take life for granted.  We warn them not to waste time in anger or hatred, in fear and wrath. 

Spend the precious time you have here on earth spewing love and hugs, patience, tolerance, and good will.  Leave a legacy of honesty and integrity, of hope and peace.  Leave this place on earth better than when you arrived if possible. 

Happy Survivorsary, George!

The C Word – July Wrap Up

This month has had it’s ups and downs.  Dealing not only with physical issues but mental and emotional ones as well.  Toss in a little family drama and home repairs.  It’s been quite a month.

George has had problems with his belly not properly draining for a good portion of the month.  Not sure what is going on.  He asks for the drain to be put on frequently because he is feeling full or bloated, yet nothing comes out.  I think when he has a buildup, it creates other issues for him such as the need to use the bathroom frequently. 

He’s exhausted more and more with little energy to expend.  He’ll fall asleep at least twice a day for one or two hours.  He won’t hear anything going on during that time. 

His fistula is beginning to put out more mucin and such.  The hole might even be wider than before. 

Mentally he is having a hard time with all of this.  It is worrisome.  Wondering what is going on and the mind goes to dark places.

During the month there has been some family drama going on – I think we’ve resolved these things.

Home issues have arisen.  Another problem with the garage door.  I thought it might be something covered under warranty with the new spring we had installed in early June, so I called the same company.  The tech came out and spent 45 minutes trying to figure out why the door wouldn’t shut completely.  I asked if it could be something with the new spring and he said no.  He was not able to fix it and said “maybe the door is broken inside so when the door is closing the energy is not properly dispersing…”  I called another company out to fix it and their tech figured out the problem within 30 seconds and had the door fixed in two minutes! AND it had to do with the new spring which needed an adjustment!  Arghhh!!

We also found out that our house phone was not working when someone said they’d tried to call but no one answered.  I looked at the handset and noticed a “Line in use” display.  This had happened before. I went around and unplugged/replugged phones and couldn’t get that message to clear.  I eventually got around to calling AT&T and the earliest schedule time was a week later.  The tech found an issue at the box (a block away) and fixed the lines.  We have absolutely no idea how long the phones had not been working (as we don’t use the land line often) but estimate the line went perhaps as long ago as June 1.  (Should have noticed that we weren’t getting robocalls!!)  Interestingly within a few hours the phone rang.  It was someone from hospice which puzzles me as I have told them that my cell should be the default phone number!  Of course, since then we’ve gotten a robocall – though not as much as before so maybe the two months of no answer got our number removed – at least for the short term.

On the upside, we had visits from old friends this month.  My former pastor, James, and his wife came for a visit when they were in the area for a wedding (he lives in Arizona now).  Steve and Vernita, who moved to Washington last December, also came for a visit while they were in town.  Stan, a long-time friend of George’s, paid a visit.  George had some phone calls from former co-workers.  I was able to go out for a lunch and a dinner with friends as well as take in a movie with Cathy.  Earlier in the month (or maybe it was in June), we got a chance to see our friends Rob and Angie who were visiting from Tennessee.  I have to remember to be thankful for these things. 

I am looking forward to my brother and sister-in-law coming from Thailand for a visit in August.  Since I have a list of projects on my to-do list, I am going to enlist help in getting one or two things checked off my list with their help.  Planning a family barbecue with the kids.  I feel bad for George because there is not a thing we can barbecue that he can eat.  He used to be the best grill cooker, making tasty steaks and chicken.  It’s been a very long time since he’s had a burger and longer still since he had steak.

As we move into August, we are all too aware that things are changing.  He believes one of the tumors is now the size of a baseball.  He feels the tumor burden more and more.  He is more and more tired.  These will continue to get worse.  We do our best to enjoy moments.  Sometimes it’s when I’m changing his dressings and we find ourselves laughing about something we heard or saw – or we just get plain silly.  Sometimes it’s when we are settling in for the night. I want to remember these moments – even if I don’t remember exactly what we were laughing about. 

The C Word - Another Birthday

Happy Birthday, George!  

Today you are 66 years old – and officially on Social Security!  Back in 2014 we were not sure you would make it to this day… but you did.  Through tenacity and sheer will power, you have fought hard to get to this point.

You and I have been together for 28% of your life…. Wow, right?  What does that feel like to know that you’ve spent 28% of your life living with love such as ours?  We may have met in our mid-life span – but we have managed to make it a good long while!

While this is not what you expected in your retirement (both after stopping work and now at official social security age), we have to appreciate the things that we have managed to do up until 2014. 

Two trips to Hawaii
Vancouver and Victoria, BC
Banff/Lake Louise/Jasper, Canada
Grand Canyon
New York/Cruise up to Canada
Alaskan Cruise
Washington, DC
Branson, MO
Of course, our honeymoon to FL and then up the coast to PA
Several trips to Connecticut
Oregon coast
“Local” trips:  Hearst Castle, Half Moon Bay, SF, Solvang, Palm Springs, San Diego

I’m sure I’m missing a few, but at our age, who can remember everything?? 

We can visit these places in our mind and through photographs and relive some of those wonderful moments, some of the exquisite scenery, some of the touching moments.  I hope when you sit in your chair you think back on some of those and remember…. For that’s all we have right now is our memories.  I’ll cherish them forever – just as I’ll cherish you forever!

Happy Birthday, sweetheart!

Love,

Your Angelface

The C Word – Melancholy Anniversaries

I had a dream recently about Mike’s brother, Tom, and his wife Paula.  It was a dream where we were all together, George and myself, Tom and Paula, and two of their children.  I don’t recognize where it was that we were.  In the dream I had a card for Tom and Paula for their 25^th anniversary and a card for Arthur who just graduated from college.  None of these, of course, are accurate at all as Tom and Paula celebrated their 40^th anniversary last year and Arthur graduated a long time ago. 

I woke from that dream feeling, I don’t know, melancholy or just plain sad.  I’m not exactly sure why, but I have a theory.

Today, June 2, 2019, would have been my 40^th anniversary with Mike.  Nowadays that seems so distant in the past when it used to feel like yesterday. 

Mike died seven months after our 20^th anniversary.  For years we didn’t do big celebrations, maybe going out to dinner just the two of us.  However, on our 20^th anniversary Mike had planned a celebration and we went out for dinner (as usual) but he had invited a host of other people to join us at Charlie Brown’s in Sunnyvale (no longer there).  We had a fun evening eating and visiting with our friends to celebrate. 

In the ensuing months there would be other events, celebrations, etc. for various things.  Looking back at this period of time there were many “last things” that he did to make memories for people he loved. We didn’t know it at the time of course.  We didn’t know that the dinner party at Randi’s was the last time we would have a fun evening like that.  We didn’t know that Thanksgiving with Tom and Paula at their home in Tuolomne would be the last Thanksgiving together.  (When our children were younger it was something we did all the time but in 1999 it was the first time in years that we’d celebrated together.)  We didn’t know that having the opportunity to foster a child, something Mike had wanted to do for years to give back to the system that was so good to him, would end so soon.  The bonus in that situation is that Mike also had the opportunity to be a grandfather for a short time as our foster daughter, Rachel, had a baby just before moving in with us.  We didn’t know that the Y2K (year 2000) celebration that Mike helped pull together at church would be the last party he ever planned.  These are just a few of the things that happened in the months prior to his death that showed God was giving him time to be with people he may have not seen too often, to celebrate with those he loved and whom loved him.  They were the final good-bye’s that we were not aware of.  God knew.

When I married George our theme song was “Grow Old Along With Me”… the best is yet to be.  I had hopes that I would get 20, 25, 30 or more years with him.  I had hopes that I would get to celebrate “big anniversaries” with him.  I was lucky to be young enough to start over and looked forward to the many years ahead of us.  I was just 46, he was 49.  Surely this was achievable!

When George was diagnosed with cancer in 2014 and we learned that this rare cancer was not curable and barely treatable, there was a point in time when I remember thinking that I would never have a 25^th anniversary, maybe not even another 20^th anniversary. 

I remember feeling cheated.  My parents had not only celebrated their 25^th but also their 50^th anniversaries (almost made it to their 60^th).  The parties we had to celebrate those milestones were some of the best memories I had, especially the 50^th.  How joyous, how lucky were they!  How lucky were we to witness that?  Not only were we celebrating their 50^th but also celebrating my oldest brother’s 25^th anniversary and my next older brother’s 15^th.

This year, 2019, means that my brothers will again be celebrating “big” anniversaries.  By big I mean, more than twenty, more than 30.  More than I will get to celebrate.  48, 38, and my younger brother’s will be 36.  In a sense I envy them the longevity of their marriages.  At the same time, I feel sad that I will never achieve such milestones – milestones that I had looked forward to when I was younger.  Milestones I believed were going to be mine as well.

At the time of George’s diagnosis, we had been married eleven years.  We celebrated our twelfth anniversary in the hospital as George was recovering from his first major surgery to try to treat the cancer.  I brought up some dinner for myself while George attempted to try whatever we ordered from the kitchen.  He really wasn’t eating much.  I wasn’t sure if we would see another anniversary.  Those were dark days.

I remember wondering if we would make it to our 13^th, 14^th, or even our 15^th anniversary.  It has been touch and go for the past few years.  We reached our 16th anniversary last year – but there was no celebration.  No dinner out.  No party.  Except for a brief acknowledgement where we said “Happy Anniversary”, it was just another day.  Just another day.  With just four months until our 17^th anniversary, I wonder if he’ll still be here.  If he is, I wonder what condition he’ll be in.  If he makes it to October 11, 2019, it will be an anniversary, but it is likely not to be a happy one. 

As I get older, there will be more anniversaries, “big” anniversaries.  However, these will be ones of a different variety.  Next year marks the 20^th “anniversary” of Mike’s death, the 20^th “anniversary” of my first date with George.  As those anniversaries creep up and up and up, eventually the same will be true for when I commemorate George’s life and his death.  But it’s not the same, not even close, to being able to celebrate here on earth with him. 

Addendum:

As I was going through and weeding out some of my belongings, I came across the wedding dress from when I married Mike.  Since it is not feasible to keep it any longer, I decided to deconstruct it and make something special for Sara, Becke, Addy and Bella. 

I made pillow covers for Sara and Becke.  One side is from my dress.  The other side is made from two small pieces of tie quilts that my mom had made.  Appliqued on to that side are butterflies made from fabrics that were worn by myself, Mike, Sara, Becke and the twins. 

With more of my dress, I made American Girl doll dresses for Addy and Bella’s dolls, Mary Ellen and Grace.  In the bouquet they carry are a couple of flowers from the plastic wedding cake topper we had. 

 

 

 

The C Word – Questions

In the past four and a half years, there have been a lot of questions.  Questions we have for the doctor.  Questions we ask ourselves.  Questions others ask. Questions we ask God.  For some we receive good answers, some not.  For others we give good answers, but not always.  And then there are those questions we have a programmed response for which is not necessarily an accurate one.  Here are some examples of the questions which have become familiar: 

1.  How are you? (George)

The answer to this question is variable and may depend on who asked the question.  For acquaintances it is less likely to be 100 percent truthful. 

George often has programmed responses when asked this question.  Typical responses have been and are: “Could be better, could be worse, middle of the road is okay with me.”, “I’ve had better.”, “So-so.”, “I’m doing okay.”  None of these are clear indicators of how he is really feeling.

Only in recent months has he started to tell his closest friends something that is closer to the truth.  “I’m not having a good day.”, “It’s been a rough week.”, “I’m tired of being tired.”

I can generally tell how he’s doing but sometimes even I need to dig deeper.  I can see he is constantly exhausted, sometimes experiencing discomfort, mentally struggling with all that is going on.  Grappling with the progression of the disease. 

2.  How are you? (Dawn)

Again, the answer given may vary depending on how close I am to someone or how much I’m willing to share.  I, too, have programmed responses.

“I’m doing okay.”, “I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances.”, “Fine.”, “I’m keeping busy.”

For the most part, these statements are accurate.  I am honestly doing the best I can given what is going on.  I do manage to keep busy, though for the first three months of the year it was busy just trying to keep up with and manage all the changes going on with George. 

I don’t feel stressed out, but my body will tell me differently sometimes.  I take more naps now than I used to (actually, I give in to when I’m feeling tired instead of fighting to keep my eyes open).  I started to get shingles (which I understand can be stress induced).  Fortunately, I caught it early and it didn’t do a full-on break out and it was in a place that was manageable to deal with (my arm).  My blood pressure is also not totally under control even with medications, a definite indicator of stress (and lack of exercise).

I struggle to find the balance between my needs and George’s.  For three or four months I was able to develop a morning routine which was comfortable and allowed my “my time” to take care of myself.  All of that came to a halt, in part due to things at home and in part due to weather (rain) and season (too dark early in the morning).  Once the routine is broken, I find it very difficult to start back up again. 

I am trying to do some things for myself health-wise.  In January, I had surgery on both hands for problematic trigger fingers.  Though my fingers do not trigger any more, there is still some pain at times associated with it but eventually it will go away.  Earlier this week I went to an ENT for a problematic sinus issue and found out I have a deviated septum and likely seasonal allergies (which never were a problem for me before).  It is likely I will have a minor procedure to fix this sometime in May. 

Last year I was diagnosed with mild clinical depression and am in on-going treatment for help with it.  The many years of being a caregiver have taken their toll on me.  I’m sure this is not a surprising fact to others in the same situation.

3.  Is there something I/we can do for you?

When someone is diagnosed with cancer, others feel the need to do something.  They don’t know what and, early on, we don’t know what they can do either. 

Food?  Food is probably the major thing that people feel they can offer and is often the first thing they come up with.

After the first surgery, meals were arranged for us.  The only problem was, George wasn’t in the mood for food as his taste buds were off.  This meant the meals brought to us were consumed only by me.  He never got to enjoy one single meal.

Periodically we’ve had people bring us things to eat.  Since George’s diet has changed depending on what he was experiencing at any given time, the response to this question has also varied.  I don’t want tons of food which will go to waste if I don’t eat it (or go to my waist if I try to eat it all), so small portions are good - and if it can be frozen for a later date, even better.  I’m pretty simple when it comes to food and, in the past two months, I have found the wonder of grocery delivery and DoorDash!  I’ve been consuming some of my comfort foods (probably way too much lately).

Help around the house? I’ve never been a clean freak (just ask George) so my priority has never been to have a clean and spotless house.  I drive George crazy because I have projects in the living room, things I keep close to my chair so I can pick them up when the mood hits – even if it may be weeks before I actually tackle them.  I can manage a vacuum now and then, a dusting now and then, spot clean the bathrooms regularly, etc.  I love to go pull weeds when I’ve got the time as it is good to be outdoors in the sun.  So the routine things about keeping house are okay, I don’t need help. 

I have learned to ask for help when there is something I can’t do.  A repair that I can’t do.  George feels bad that he can’t do them because this was his job.  Nowadays, depending on what the problem is, I either ask for help from a friend or I call in a repair person.  Recently I hired a plumber to fix a shower leak issue.  A neighbor had offered to help and had tried but couldn’t fix it (which was so nice of him to offer) – but he also recommended a repairman.  We’ve had a bunch of issues over the past six months and it’s cost a pretty penny to get them fixed by professionals.  I’ve learned to assess the problem and handle the repair in the best way I can. 

The best response we can give to this question is that we can always use your prayers.  Prayers are never a waste of time in our books. 

4.  Is he up for visitors?

The answer definitely varies.  It has depended on where he was in this journey. 

These days, visitors are a nice distraction – but anything more than an hour or two in a day is tiring for him. It’s better when the visitor is able to chat with both of us so if George feels the need to nod off, he can.  People have been good about checking in with me first.  They always worry they will wake him up.  Honestly, anyone coming over even for a scheduled visit may wake him up as that’s what he primarily does most days.  Unless he is having a particularly bad day, being woken up is okay.

5.  How has this impacted you? (George)

Mind you, I am speaking third person here.  I am making commentary based on things George has said or that I have observed. 

Impact #1:  Shortly after diagnosis in 2014, what I observed was a man who had difficulty trying to discern what to do.  I had to take control of making appointments (something I’ve done ever since then).  He has always been the type of person who needs to mull over, think about things or digest things (his words).  Sometimes he takes his time to do this – sometimes to his detriment.  Then I have to step in and nudge him forward as he gets “stuck” in his brain.

Impact #2: In the past five years, he has needed to relinquish his driving on multiple occasions.  After surgery in October 2014, he didn’t drive for about three months.  After he broke his neck in December 2015, he didn’t drive again until April 2016 only to stop again after cancer surgery in July 2016.  Then he stopped again until December.  In August 2017, after he passed out due to dehydration, he stopped again and except for a few occasions, has not driven since then.  This is difficult for him.  He was used to being in control of the steering wheel.  He was used to running errands on his own. He’s not comfortable driving because of his fear of passing out or having something happen, but he does not want to give up his right to drive just in case he needs to do so sometime. Driving is one of the major players in ones’ psyche.  None of us ever wants to give it up.   This year the DMV is requiring him to take an eye exam and come in person to the DMV to renew his license.  Yet, signing up for an appointment is likely to fall to me. 

Impact #3:  Perhaps the biggest impact this disease has had is in his ability to continue his career.  Giving up his job to go on long term disability wreaked havoc on him in the beginning.  For men, their jobs are what they feel defines them.  It’s something they have done for their entire lives.  It gives them a sense of pride and accomplishment.  To suddenly be faced with the prospect of not working breaks their spirit.  They are used to being the bread winners, taking care of their family.  If they can’t work, then who are they?  (This could be a dilemma for women too, but maybe not to the degree it is for men.) 

Stopping work leaves them with a lot of time on their hand.  George was lost for a long time.  He didn’t know what he was worth anymore (and still has problems with that issue).  “What good am I?” he sometimes asks.  As the disease has progressed and his energy levels have gone from okay to non-existent, he fails to see his value as a man, a husband, a helper.  He feels worthless in a world where he used to be in charge.  He wonders how anyone could love him and often asks, “Do you love me?” and “Why do you love me?”  The answer is “You are still the same man on the inside.  You still are kind.  You still are a man of integrity and honesty. You are still a man of faith.  Those things have not changed despite your physical transformation.”

Impact #4:  Over time his memory has diminished, his ability to find words or names at times can be challenging, his sense of day and time sometimes wane.  I’ve observed George go from a confident, take charge kind of person to someone who has little confidence and no longer even tries to be in charge.  I have been in charge of his medications as well, something constantly changes.  He is not able to keep track of these, let alone remember the names of the medications, especially newer ones.

6.  How has this impacted you? (Dawn)

I’ve always believed that the experiences one goes through over the course of their lifetime is for a reason.  “Teachable moments.”  We may not like them or understand them, but we still have to go through them.  I think my believing this has truly helped me with all of the twists and turns which have taken place in my life.  Some people don’t understand it, can’t believe how I stay positive through tough times.  For me it is simple, I have a God and I have faith and trust that He will help me when the going gets rough.

It goes without saying, then, this same truth applies to this circumstance… this journey through the “C” word. 

Impact #1: I have truly had to learn how to navigate a world totally foreign to me.  I’ve never been a technical person or one who understands the world of science, so although I’ve had to try to understand some of the things about Pseudomyxoma Peritonei and Appendix Cancer, I will never be an expert and I do not wish to learn about all the facets of this disease (I marvel at those folk who understand the various kinds and can speak with great knowledge about them and the various treatments).  I should also note I should never use the word “never’ – because sometimes God will turn those words upside down on me. 

What I have learned is everything I need to know about George and his disease.  I am an observer.  When George is in the hospital, I watch the nurses, I listen to the doctors and the nurses.   Over the past five years, he’s been in the hospital for more than 80 days!  For many of those, I’ve stayed with him day and night.  I’ve also gone with him to countless doctor appointments – surgeons, oncologists, etc.  I take notes.  I ask questions.  I am very well versed in his care to the point some people will ask if I’m a nurse.  My answer is always, “I don’t care how much knowledge God gives me and makes me learn regarding George’s care, I DO NOT want to be a nurse.”  It doesn’t mean that somehow God won’t use what I’ve learned somewhere else down the road.  He is not done using me yet!

Impact #2: Between caregiving first for Etta (from 2006-2016) and George (from 2014 to current), the ability to plan for anything has been difficult.  It’s been thirteen years of trying to make plans, hoping that they work out.  Nothing could be done impromptu when Mom was alive as we always had to make sure it worked out in Rosemary’s calendar.  When George was diagnosed and I had double duty for two years, my brain was on high alert 24/7 (and coupled with that was the fact I was working 30 hours a week).  I used my vacation time to stay with George for his multiple overnighters.  Since leaving my job in April 2017, we had hoped to be able to do spur of the moment things such as a weekend away.  However, this never came to fruition as George’s health deteriorated.  In the past 10 months between chemotherapy and wound issues and now having to administer TPN and clean a gnarly wound every day, getting away is impossible.  It seems every time I make plans to be away for more than half a day, something happens with George.  He’s landed in the emergency room two of the three times I’ve gotten away.  Between December and late March he was either in the hospital or at Dr. B’s office every other week.  Now, with TPN, I can get out for a few hours here and there when he is not connected to his TPN infusion. 

Caring for mom was like having a three year old in the house.  It often meant that I would be awoken nearly every night as she made at least one trip to the bathroom and I had to listen to be sure she got there and back without falling. Every night and every weekend I juggled between her place and ours to ensure she ate, drank, got ready for bed, took her meds, etc.  It’s no wonder I can’t sit still as I’m so used to having to get up often to tend to someone’s needs.

All of this has made me learn to be patient…. I am typically a patient person, but every once in awhile I yearn for something more.

Impact #3: Wife versus caregiver.  I wrote about this in a blog some time ago.  The lines between wife and caregiver can be very blurry.  Moving between the two of them like a game of tennis, bouncing back and forth over the net.  More often than not, I feel like a caregiver more than a wife – in the traditional sense of a wife anyway.  The longer time goes on, the more distant it becomes.  Aside from holding hands and occasional snuggle time, I give more than I get as his needs take precedence.  The love is still there – the passion long gone.  This disease has taken its’ toll, has become all consuming of any energy we have to put into a traditional husband/wife relationship. 

Impact #4:  Household duties and Bill paying.  More recently, everything pertaining to the house has become my responsibility to not only take notice of but to take care of.  Small tasks that George used to do have fallen to me.  Some I can fix, others I have to find someone to help with – often meaning we are paying a fair amount of money for the repair.  Bill paying, once something George dutifully did, paying bills the moment they came in, now is my duty.  George rarely will even go into the office, let alone take the five or ten minutes to log on to his computer and pay the bill.  For the first time (well, maybe second) since we’ve been married, I did the taxes.  This is not too difficult as we use TurboTax and that expedites everything.  This means that I am:  wife, caregiver, bill payer, household overseer, nurse.  It’s no wonder my brain rarely turns off as it is trying to plan for everything that may need to be taken care of.  I am a proponent of keeping a pad with a list of the things “to do” because if I don’t, I will surely forget something. 

 

QUESTIONS FOR GOD

1.  Why me?  And Why this cancer? (George)  George often thinks about these questions.  We will never know the reason why or why this cancer.  Yet it is something he ponders.

2.  Why would God do this to my mom twice?  This is a question I know both of my daughters ask themselves. 

This is what I believe… God put me into the lives of two men who needed me. One who came from a broken family and needed a woman whose easygoing temperament could balance out his various and assorted behaviors. From this relationship I had to learn how to keep us afloat as he loved to spend, I witnessed a person who could play like a child but who was a quick learner for all things mechanical and a dedicated worker. This man gave me two of the greatest gifts on earth, my daughters.  He taught me the power of resilience, of overcoming ones past by learning to do better, be better.  He showed no prejudice towards other races (only stupid people, LOL).  And I, in return, showed him compassion, helped return him to faith in God, stood by his side even when things were difficult for us.  He was taken from this earth far too soon for our liking.  It was like the carpet got pulled out from underneath us and it took us a long time to find our balance again.  He would not like us to give up on life, to give up on love, to give up on each other.  He would want us to go on.

After Mike’s journey was done, He put another man in my path. This man needed different things. He, too, was broken but in different ways. He needed someone he could learn to trust to be there for him. He had a daughter that needed a mother figure.

He ended up having a mother that needed help. Help I could offer willingly because I had the time. Also, if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have this home I live in. In a weird, twisted sort of way, Mike also helped me live in a home with something I had told him about when we were dating… I wanted a house with a white picket fence.  Due to the circumstances of his death, he did help me find and purchase that home – just without him here with me. 

Ultimately, God knew George would need a partner to take care of him when diagnosed with cancer. Without me, he would not be able to live.

He taught me how to better manage money. He had a salary which allowed us to maintain a beautiful home and provided health insurance to cover sooo many things. 

God has given me the strength to be what these men needed. I believe I was brought into their lives and them into mine for reasons that are bigger than me.  He was using my talents to be the partner they needed – and they were the partners I needed as well.

Between both men, I will be able to live debt free and not have to work for the rest of my life. I will be able to do things I never imagined. 

That is the gift I have been given... to be loved by two men, to be financially independent, to have three wonderful daughters, to know I am now more than capable of living my life when they are gone in a way I never imagined.

My faith has kept me strong to handle everything that’s been tossed my way. In my lifetime I’ve had to learn unimaginable patience, to learn to set aside prejudices, to rise up and do whatever it takes to allow loved ones to be at home despite their illness. I’ve learned these not only from these two men, but from my family, my children, my friends... 

I know there’s a higher being watching over me. For me it us God. I pray my children find a what works for them. Maybe it will be God, maybe from another spiritual guide. One thing I’ve learned, is that with God in your life, you will always be able to find a way to keep going, to muster through the bad times and to recognize the good times and appreciate them.  Our children have (or are) struggling with those because all they can see is this bad thing is happening to their mom (and to them).  We don’t always know the  “why” of things.  Sometimes we find out later, sometimes the question is never answered in our lifetime.  But with God, with Faith, with Love and with Hope, I know for a fact we can not only make it through tragedies, we can come out stronger on the other side of them. 

I can understand my children’s anger at God.  Yet I know God still loves them and one day will show them what it feels like to be at peace, to give them back their faith and their hope. 

QUESTIONS BETWEEN US

1.  What’s going on in your head? Or Where is your head at?

I often look over at George and he is staring off into space.  Or he is lying in his chair, eyes covered, yet not asleep.  I can sometimes tell he is struggling with something by his demeanor.  So I’ll ask him these questions because I’ve learned if I  ask, he will keep things bottle up inside and that’s not good.

2.  How are you doing? (George to Dawn)

He asks this of me fairly regularly. He wants to check in to see if I’m particularly stressed or feeling burdened. 

For the most part, I am doing pretty well.  I go through periods of time where I can’t seem to get my focus back – especially if there’s been a marked change in the schedule for caring for him or if we’ve spent time at the hospital, etc.  I’ve learned to set my self-expectations fairly low for the time being.  I do what I can when I feel like it. I don’t feel guilty that the house isn’t always clean – it’s not important right now.  If I’m tired, I’ll take a nap.  If I’m ambitious, I use the momentum to get things done.  I use my constant “to do” list as a guide and pick things based on what I feel like getting done. 

The hardest thing for me to do is to not only make the time to get some good exercise in, but to feel like doing it.  Once I get off track, it is very difficult to re-insert it into my life.  I’ve had to reconcile to be okay with not exercising for the time being, because I have to preserve my strength to just get through the day.  My brain muscles can only do so much. 

3.  What are you afraid of? (George)

I know the answer to this because we’ve talked about it amidst ourselves and with others. 

George is afraid of dying.  He is afraid of what is coming down the road. Pain. Fear of leaving me.  Of leaving his family.  Fear of losing control of bodily functions.  The process of dying.  All of this is an unknown – so fear is normal.  That doesn’t make it any less scary.

4.  What are you afraid of? (Dawn)

I’m afraid of having to watch him suffer.  I pray when it’s time for him to go it is swift and without pain.  He’s suffered so much these past five years.  He is a shell of the man I used to know. 

5.  Will you be okay? (G to D) 

I am not afraid of being alone because I have felt somewhat alone for awhile now.  He is physically in the room, but he is mentally not here.  God has been preparing me for what is coming.  As mentioned above, I will have all that I need to live life in the way he wanted me to – “top cabin”.  I’m sorry that it won’t be with him.  He always wanted to take me places, but his body failed him much earlier than expected. 

6.  How do you think things will change/be for you when I’m gone? (G to D) 

For the first time in over thirteen years, I will have only me to answer to.  I won’t have any restrictions for when I do things.  I can travel to places I’ve yearned to go to for a long time.  I will be able to spend more time with our children and grandchildren, more time with my sister or other friends.  My time will truly be mine. 

7.  Will you miss me? (G to D) 

Of course, I will miss you.  Probably more than I think I will.  In some ways, I’ve missed you, missed us for the past few years as you’ve slowly melted away before my own eyes. I’ve missed: you tinkering in the garage on some sort of project, you building some amazing things in the backyard, your taking care of the things the ‘man of the house’ generally does.  I miss the intimacy we once shared.  I will miss holding your hand, snuggling up to you while we watch TV in bed.  I will miss fighting over control of the TV programs. 

Yet, I will always hear your words in my head, your sage advice:  “Be safe, Dawn.”  “Drive safe, Dawn.”  “Don’t give out your personal information.”  “Always set some money aside for a rainy day.”  “If you save your nickels and dimes, the dollars will take care of themselves.” (hmm, that doesn’t sound quite right, but it is along those lines.), “lock the door even when you are home”…

8.  I know I don’t have the right to ask, but I don’t want you to marry again

After Mike died, there was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t marry at some point.  I was still young, only 43.  I still had a lot of good years in my life.  I still had a lot to offer to someone else.  I wasn’t fully looking for a life partner when I met George (it was just a few months after Mike died).  I was looking for companionship beyond my circle of friends and acquaintances.  Someone who might be able to listen to me without the sad look that my friends were giving me.  God sent George.

Now, at 62, I am at a different place in my life.  These past few years have been tough for me as a wife. I need time to recover from the losses in my life.  I need time to chill out and just “be” for some time.  Tongue in cheek I tell George – “When you are gone I will have buried two husbands.  I do not want to do this again.”  I am done.  I am burned out.  I have no desire to have a close relationship with anyone else.  Not right now. I can’t say never because I don’t know what God’s plan is.  It will be time for me to be selfish.  To think of myself and my needs.  To do whatever my heart desires.  To let my hair down and have some fun. 

I pray that God will allow me that time.  Time with my family to heal from the past thirteen years – years where I’ve been a caregiver, years where I lost my parents.  Years where I’ve watched people I love deteriorate before my very eyes.  That He will provide me with good health for a long time to come.  That He will put new people in my life to have fun with, to do things with, to go places with.  That He will allow me to just “be” for as long as I need it.  That’s what I pray for.

 

My last question to God is:  Will You give me a long and healthy life to continue to serve You, to continue to live my life to the fullest extent possible?  I wonder what the answer will be.