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MooreAboutThis.com http://mooreaboutthis.com My Personal Blog Mon, 14 May 2018 17:26:11 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=4.9.7 87930946 Care and Giving http://mooreaboutthis.com/877-2/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/877-2/#comments Mon, 14 May 2018 17:26:11 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=877 Caregivers are my peeps. Whether you are taking care of someone with a chronic illness, or a special needs person, or have lost your person this post is for you. Let’s keep it real. It is as bad as you… Continue Reading

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Caregivers are my peeps. Whether you are taking care of someone with a chronic illness, or a special needs person, or have lost your person this post is for you.

Let’s keep it real. It is as bad as you feel that it is.

Don’t get me wrong, I would do it all again. I don’t regret a minute of the time I spent taking care of my husband. However, we don’t really talk about the specifics of taking care of another person, and the toll it takes on our own bodies and mental health.

It’s as if it somehow minimizes our love for them, to acknowledge how hard it is. Yet, it is because of our love for them that we deal with the difficulties of actually being in some cases responsible for someone living or dying.

It started with a bad mammogram, and I ended up needing to have two masses removed from my breast. It went on for about 6 months without us knowing whether or not the masses were cancerous. We were terrified. I was primarily terrified that I would have cancer, and not be able to take care of Mike, and all of the hideousness of possibly leaving Brooke motherless.

As it turns out, one of the masses was precancerous cells, and now I have an increased risk of getting breast cancer, and have to be monitored very closely.

Last week, I had to go for what is now a yearly mammogram. During the obligatory breast squeezing, I had a grief trigger. I went back to when Mike was in the hospital for the last time, and I had to have the surgery to remove the masses. My sister and cousin were with me. I wanted and needed my husband.

I needed my husband.

Leading up to the surgery, I had had a series of panic attacks, I guess being told you may have cancer while taking care of your husband with cancer can be stressful. Who knew? Lol

So the morning of the surgery the dr had given me a zanax pill, and told me to take it the morning of the surgery. If you have never taken one of these pills, apparently it can calm you. I was so relaxed I was basicly asleep within minutes of taking it.

It was like an I love Lucy episode, which ended up with me barely conscious, laying across the mammogram machine, with my legs barely able to hold me. My sister explained my situation to the techs, and the surgery to remove the masses proceeded as scheduled.

I thought of all of this the other day during my now yearly mammogram. I was reminded of how horrid that time in my life was. It was as bad as it sounds. After years of taking care of my person, I wanted my person with me during what was a horrible time for me. I deserved it. What’s more important, he deserved to be there for me. Just another thing cancer takes from you. The ability to be there for your person when they need you most.

I was lonely for him then, and I am alone now.

It’s the reality of losing your person.

It’s as bad as you think it is.

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I love you more http://mooreaboutthis.com/860-2/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/860-2/#comments Tue, 24 Apr 2018 20:18:26 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=860 Has it really been a year and a half today? A year and a half since he left us? I have wondered the last couple of days why I have been so down. I thought maybe it was just the… Continue Reading

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Has it really been a year and a half today? A year and a half since he left us? I have wondered the last couple of days why I have been so down. I thought maybe it was just the endless adulting, or withdrawls from giving up donuts yet again.

Nope, it’s the year and a half marker..

I rarely review my past blog posts, I lived these words. It was painful enough the first time. I don’t recall if I ever posted about the conversation Mike and I had regarding me dating after he was gone. It was a Saturday, about 10 days before he left me. We were home alone. We were laying in the hospital bed, I was holding onto him tightly. He said he wanted to talk to me about something since we were alone.

He proceeded to tell me that he wanted me to date and find love again after he was gone. I know how hard this was for him to tell me. He never even liked to hear about anyone I had dated before him. Unlike me, who wanted to know every detail of every woman he had ever dated! I remember me telling him that I hadn’t thought about dating, as I was focused on keeping him alive.

He said something to the effect that I was going to have a long life ahead of me, and he didn’t want me to live it alone. I remember looking at him, and holding him and balling so hard I could barely breathe. I said to him “I’m sure I will date again, but I will just be marking time until we are together again.”

We both cried so hard at that point that he was hoarse later.

The only nights we ever spent apart were when he was in the hospital, and most of the time i slept in the chair beside his bed. I am so thankful that he knew how much I loved him, and that he knew that I loved him more, and that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for him.

I have thought of those final days so often the last year and a half. I have been fortunate to have met some really nice men, and I have been dating. I’ve learned so much about who I am post devastating loss. I have learned that I can have feelings again. I have learned that I can be hurt again. Nothing like losing Mike, but enough.

I have learned that I don’t want to live my life alone, and that I am a partner person. I have also learned that there is nothing to be ashamed of in this, and that the judgey mcjudges are the ones who go to bed each night in the loving arms of their partners.

The best have been the ones who accepted me talking openly about Mike. The worst are the baby faced players who will never experience a loving and fulfilling relationship. I feel sad for them.

All of it has been a learning experience for this 51 year old woman who had never dated.

All in good time. All in good time.

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Moments in Time http://mooreaboutthis.com/moments-in-time/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/moments-in-time/#comments Tue, 27 Mar 2018 15:32:35 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=849 As Mike got sicker, and sicker and it got closer and closer to the end, he started sleeping more. He never ever napped during the day when we were together, and we both knew the end was getting closer when… Continue Reading

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As Mike got sicker, and sicker and it got closer and closer to the end, he started sleeping more. He never ever napped during the day when we were together, and we both knew the end was getting closer when he started sleeping more that last week or so. He even said something to me in one of our late night chats about the sleeping more being an indicator that the end was coming.

He was a crier. I wasn’t used to it. lol I would joke and tell him to stop crying, and call him a cry baby. Yet, he was the most masculine man I have every known, and so tough. He had no problem telling people he was on what he called “brain meds” for depression, and literally was racing motorcross while on chemo when we met. I remember him telling me of an article written about him when he had cancer in 1999, and that the author of it called him tough as nails. He was.

One time he was in a golf tournament in Jackson , and he literally was in 4th place or so when he had to drop out on sunday because he was in the hospital, having a feeding tube put in because the tumor was blocking the exit of his stomach. Tough as nails.

Watching him hit a golf club gave me butterflies in my stomach. He had this self confidence that was so sexy, and we made out all the time, even in the hospital. We touched constantly, and I miss the touch of love almost as much as I miss him. Most of our marriage he couldn’t lay on his right side due to tumor pain, or feeding tubes, or drainage tubes. He would want to spoon me, but he could only sleep if he was on his side of the bed. lol He would say bring it in babe.. and I would. Avoiding tubes, drains, bandages.

I remember that terrible day when they told us the keytruda wasn’t working anymore, and we both started weeping. He looked over at me, and asked me to hold him. I did.

I was driving home from Ohio that day, and literally had a panic attack on the freeway. He had to take over driving. I was so disappointed that I was letting him down, he was after all the one who was dying. I said something to him that night, and he told me that I had the harder job. He knew that it was going to be hard for me to live on without him.

He got me.

He stared at me all the time. I would be washing dishes,and look over and he would be watching me. He would say things like ” why are you loading the dish washer like that?” It was so annoying. It finally made sense to me when he was in the hospital one time, and his buddy Joe came to visit, and told me a story about how he would be working on something at work, and have 6 engineers watching him, and telling him what to do, and how to do it better. Ahh.. it’s an engineer thing.

I got him.

He baked me a cake for my birthday. He baked me a cake. I have never had anyone even wash my laundry, or cook me dinner, and this man literally baked me a cake on my birthday.

One time when we were dating, I called him on my way back from florida during a snow storm. I was complaining about how I was going to remove the snow in my drive way. ( I know this is not a surprise to any of you,lol) When I got home he had plowed my driveway, and bought me a snow blower on craigs list, and got it running. He amused himself showing me how to work it, and I actually did use it a few times this last year, until I forgot to put something in it my brother in law told me to, and it wouldn’t work anymore. I lost patience, and put the thing out to the curb. He would not be surprised by this.

He got me.

I got him.

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Until death does its Part http://mooreaboutthis.com/until-death-does-its-part/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/until-death-does-its-part/#comments Mon, 19 Mar 2018 19:35:55 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=841 I never told the half of it- Marco Polo Our pastor told a story a few weeks back, and he quoted Marco Polo the explorer who when asked about his many adventures responded with the quote above. One of the… Continue Reading

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I never told the half of it- Marco Polo

Our pastor told a story a few weeks back, and he quoted Marco Polo the explorer who when asked about his many adventures responded with the quote above.

One of the things that come up frequently in the widow world is the question of when to stop wearing your wedding band after your spouse dies. I will go on the record as saying everyone has to do what they feel is best for them.

I stopped wearing mine about 2 months after Mike died. I was in florida, and dreamt of Mike all night. When I woke up at 5am, I felt for my ring and it was missing. I jumped out of bed, flipped on the light, and with my heart racing, looked around until I found it on the nightstand beside the bed where I apparently placed it in my sleep.

Every time I looked down at my left ring finger and saw that ring, it reminded me of my loss. I took it off.

When Mike was dying, he lost so much weight that his ring was slipping off. Instead of taping the ring, he taped his finger so that the ring couldn’t slide over the tape and fall off. Even then, as he became almost skeletal it was hard to keep it on. I remember my sister asking him if he wanted to take it off, and have me hold it for safe keeping.

He absolutely did not want to do that.

Fast forward a few weeks to that horrible last night. I had asked Mike if he wanted to be cremated with anything special, I guess they can do that now, and the funeral home had asked me ahead of time if there was anything special he wanted to go with him.

I came home from that terrible visit, and asked him about it. I suggested maybe his hockey stick, or a favorite picture. This was the Friday before he died, and slightly before he slipped into a coma. We were all sitting around the bed, and my brother in laws phone kept dinging from texts that were coming in. It was getting on Mikes nerves. When I asked him if there was anything he wanted to be cremated with he jokingly said “Sure, how about Steves phone.”

We all got a huge laugh out of that.

Shortly after, he was drifting in and out, and he mumbled to me that it was too much pressure, and for me to decide.

When he died two days later, while we waited for the funeral home to come and get his body I put his favorite Michigan hat on his head, and had my brother in law go out to the garage and get his brand new driver to be cremated with him. For those who knew him he loved golf almost as much as he loved me. This driver was brand new, he had only hit it a few times, and my brother in law said he would die all over again if he knew we were putting it in there with him, and not craigslisting it like he loved to do.

As they rolled his body out of our house for the last time, and into the hearse I slipped off his wedding band, placed it on my middle finger of my right hand and it remains there today.

Til death does it’s part.

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It’s good right now. http://mooreaboutthis.com/you-dont-know/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/you-dont-know/#comments Wed, 28 Feb 2018 22:41:22 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=823 When you put your thoughts and feelings out there for people to see, and comment on, it is inevitable to experience negative feedback. I know that not everyone is going to agree wth my thoughts, feelings, and opinions, and yet… Continue Reading

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When you put your thoughts and feelings out there for people to see, and comment on, it is inevitable to experience negative feedback. I know that not everyone is going to agree wth my thoughts, feelings, and opinions, and yet the skinny little girl in coke bottle glasses that didn’t get enough from her daddy is still inside me wanting to please.

I’ve struggled with what to do with this blog. Honestly, it isn’t easy to put yourself out there for the interwebs to judge. I am exploring the dating world (if that’s what you call it), and this blog makes me more vulnerable. A simple google search will pull this up, and I don’t want my real self exposed to the dating world.

I’ve worked really hard to cultivate my superficial, giggly public persona, and without Mike I don’t really know if there is a point in letting new peeps know the real me.

The truth is, few know what it is like to be in my shoes unless they have walked in them. I’ve been asked how I can date, when I am so in love with my husband. The answer to that is that I have a deep capacity for love, and when it comes time, my heart will expand to include someone new. I will always be Mikes wife. If I ever love again I won’t stop loving Mike. He showed me what love, and commitment really are. How could I ever settle for anything less than that?

I’ve been dropped by some because they feel that I am crass, and inappropriate at times. That’s a fair assessment. Those people weren’t my people to begin with. I’m not for everyone, and that’s ok too. Grief is ugly. I understand those who walked away. Believe me, if I could have turned away from myself I would have too! It makes me so much more grateful for those who didn’t.

Dating after 50 is weird. First of all, I can’t believe I am 50, so that is probably part of my problem. I keep waiting for my momma to tell me to straighten up, but maybe she’s gotten used to me. I think she is probably just happy I’m not willing myself to die anymore, at least I’m not today. Dating is very superficial, and has required very little energy or effort. I can ask a leading question, and get away with giving very little information about myself. Sharing last names isn’t even required until many months of dating, or at least I think that is the case, I havn’t gotten that far yet! If I am dating you, and you are reading this I don’t mean you of course. Also, stop reading this right now, and be content with my fun, public self.

It feels right to continue this blog, so I will until it doesn’t feel right anymore.

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Cholangiocarcinoma Cancer Survivors http://mooreaboutthis.com/826-2/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/826-2/#comments Mon, 05 Feb 2018 16:27:09 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=826 He opened his eyes and said “Baby, why are you screaming? You are scaring me.” I looked down, and said to him ” You are on the floor, I thought you were dead.” The last couple of weeks it got… Continue Reading

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He opened his eyes and said “Baby, why are you screaming? You are scaring me.” I looked down, and said to him ” You are on the floor, I thought you were dead.”

The last couple of weeks it got harder and harder for Mike to walk. It got to the point that he only left the hospital bed to go into the bathroom. We started having him sit on the walker, and I would push him into the bathroom. I would stand outside the door a wreck worried he would fall, and begging him to let me come in but he couldn’t go with anyone else in there so outside the door I would stand.

This particular day, I pushed him into the bathroom, and on the way there he passed out, and slid down the walker and onto the floor. I thought he was dead, and started screaming. He woke up scared, to me screaming, with no idea how he had gotten to the floor. The immediate concern was how to get him up off the floor and onto the toilet. I literally lifted him off the floor myself, and put him onto the toilet seat. We continued on.

Later that day, he passed out again with his uncle helping him, and I realized we had to figure out a new plan. I called the hospice place, and talked to them and they came out and put in a catheter, and Mike never left the hospital bed again alive.

We surmised that the tumor was pressing on a main artery, and in certain positions it was causing him to lose consciousness.

This is the reality of stage 4 cancer. No pink ribbons, no cheerleading. The reality is that it took a healthy, virile man and stripped him of his health, dignity, and finally his life.

I hesitate, as do most caregivers, to balance our privacy with sharing the actual harsh realities of this horrible disease. However, moving forward with my life encompasses more than just grieving his loss, although that is awful enough. It also encompasses dealing with the horror and trauma of watching my friend, companion, and lover slowly disappear right before my eyes. All the while, being careful not to share my own fear, sadness, and horror with him.

The survivors of this cancer are not the patients. There are no real survivors of cholangiocarcinoma, the 5 year survival rate is almost unmeasurable. I know that if you found this blog through a google search, this is not something you want to hear. I am sorry that I can’t be more positive. I am sorry that I can only offer you hope on making the best of the time you have left. There isn’t enough research being done on this horrific disease, not enough money being spent on finding a cure, I could go on and on…

The survivors are the son who will never see his dad ever again. The brother and sisters who miss Mother Mike. The friends who look over at his tool box, and think of all of the years he spent on the job he loved. The step daughter who has had to live with a mom struggling some days to just get through the day.

We are the survivors.

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The Weird Widow http://mooreaboutthis.com/the-weird-widow/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/the-weird-widow/#comments Mon, 11 Dec 2017 00:19:04 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=815 When Mike and I started this blog we made a deal that we would be honest. We would tell things openly, and honestly. He read each blog post I wrote before I posted it, and never once asked me to… Continue Reading

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When Mike and I started this blog we made a deal that we would be honest. We would tell things openly, and honestly. He read each blog post I wrote before I posted it, and never once asked me to edit my blog, or leave anything out. Many times he would cry after reading my words, because he always felt that even though he was the one dying of cancer, he worried about me and the effects that caregiving was having on me.

In fact, everyone who was here the last couple of months of his life probably heard him tell people that he was worried about me, and how I would do after he was gone. He told me repeatedly that last week that he was worried about me, and we had long talks about everything from buying a new refridgerator for the garage (he circled the ones on craigslist that he thought I should consider, and even called on some), to me dating again. We both sobbed late into the night one night while I tried to reassure him that I could do it on my own again.

What kind of alternate universe was I living in? He was right. I have been a mess the last year. I had forgotten that Mike made me feel like I could do anything, and that anything I did was funny, and fine. He rarely complained about my inability to park on my side of the garage, always fixed the first floor toilet when someone overfilled it with paper, and would lecture us pretty much weekly on rinsing the dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher. He went around cleaning up after the Anne show, and I went around taking care of him.

Let me just tell you that Anne without Mike is an idiot.

In the height of my grief, when I was drinking Vodka like it was water I had it in my head that only boys and booze would help. I want to thank the good looking men who went along on that crazy train, they are still on my facebook, but I doubt they read this blog because after experiencing that particular ride who needs to relieve it in this blog post? Let’s just say if you are over 6 ft tall, and emotionally unavailable It was pretty much love.

After that fun, but brief phase I went through the lows lows lows again. I congratulated myself on not carrying around Mikes ashes anymore, remembering to shower everyday, changing out of his clothes, and after a year cleaning out his shoe closet. Although I admit his dress shoes are still sitting on the outside of my bedroom closet door.

Then came the shopping. New hardwood floors, jewelry, clothes, and wisdom teeth removal for my daughter. Although that isn’t technically shopping, as an only parent to a kid with a lot of medical bills, it added up. The adult in my house should take away my credit card, but there doesn’t seem to be one.

News flash,none of that helped.

I’ve managed to manufacture whole relationships in my head with people that don’t even know it, kill conversations in two states with dead husband talk, gotten pissed at people for imagined slights, refused to apologize, and spent hours hating myself for not apologizing.

I cry easily. I feel your pain. I tell my people that I love them. Not just my people, but most people. To the guy who works on my car, I was just having a good day. I probably don’t really love you. If this makes you uncomfortable, I may apologize. Probably not. See above.

The last couple of months have been brutal. Keeping the crazy in the closet is a full time job. There will be no Christmas tree, or decorations this year. Still not in the mood for celebrating. I got through his death anniversary, and our special anniversaries. I didn’t want to, but I did.

You know what? He wouldn’t care. He would be proud of me for getting through it.

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A Year http://mooreaboutthis.com/the-heartache-of-heartbreak/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/the-heartache-of-heartbreak/#comments Tue, 03 Oct 2017 19:08:08 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=804 It’s been almost a year since we lost Mike. My body has been reminding me of this for a few weeks, even though I have tried not to consciously commemorate his death date, my brain keeps reminding me that it… Continue Reading

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It’s been almost a year since we lost Mike. My body has been reminding me of this for a few weeks, even though I have tried not to consciously commemorate his death date, my brain keeps reminding me that it is coming.

In some ways I am amazed it has been a year, and in some ways it seems like ten years. I think of him every day, and I wish he were here, but I don’t cry every day anymore.

Since he has been gone I have burnt up our grass. I turned the sprinkler system off, forgot about it, and a month later I looked out the window at my dead grass. It happens, widow brain is real.

I have resurrected my dead business, found my groove again with it, and added another aspect to it in the last year since he’s been gone.

I have made myself so grief sick earlier this spring, that I threw up so violently that I wet my pants. This upset me so much, and reminded me of when Mike couldn’t eat, and the hopeless feeling that I felt that I got even sicker. Eventually I ended up just laying in the bathroom floor with a towel between my legs, and my head in the toilet for a day. I got better.

I have reunited with old friends, and spent quality time with my people. It means even more now.

I have had a crush on a cute guy. Honestly, it came as a shock that I could like someone again. However a broken crayon still colors, and it was a nice reminder that when I’m ready I will love again. I don’t understand dating, and heartbreak has made it even harder. The idea of going through this kind of loss again scares me so much that I can’t even imagine opening up my heart again.

I have scattered ashes, consulted a medium, and cried myself to sleep a hundred times.

I’ve been angry at God, Mike, the doctors, cancer, my friends, the bank teller, but mostly at myself.

I have turned 50.

I’ve read more books about grief than anyone needs to read, and become more secure in my faith.

I have slept. After 2 years of not sleeping more than a couple of hours at a time, I am sleeping. My doctor put me on some medication to help with the perimenopause which has had its own challenges. I have never taken any medicine, so now I have to remember to take it.

I accidently put the medication into my purse without the lid secured, and later discovered the pills poured out into the bottom of my purse. I saw them hours later and thought they were mini altoids, and put them in my altoid tin. Thankfully I realized it before I offered progesterone to someone just seeking fresh breath.

I have survived.

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Til I can make it on my own http://mooreaboutthis.com/790-2/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/790-2/#comments Mon, 11 Sep 2017 14:16:32 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=790 A year ago Labor Day weekend Mike came home. He came home with hospice care. We had spent most of August in the hospital being told that despite everything there was nothing left they could do to extend or save… Continue Reading

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A year ago Labor Day weekend Mike came home. He came home with hospice care. We had spent most of August in the hospital being told that despite everything there was nothing left they could do to extend or save his life. We got to the point where we couldn’t take it anymore. We literally put a do not disturb sign on the door.

Certain things stand out from that time. The surgeon not being able to put in the stent was one of those things. This surgeon told me to take Mike home, and that he had only 2 weeks- 2months to live. I am sure they told Mike the timeline, but we never discussed it again. I remember him waking up that time, and asking his sister why I was crying. She told him I was sad, and he said I hope you are consoling her. That’s who he was. He was dying, had just come out of anesthesia and was concerned about me. I remember sobbing so hard that night that I was dry heaving into a garbage can.

That same week they were going to try to place another feeding tube. Mike had had so much pain from the interventional radiologists by that time that we had made a complaint against them. He wanted to be fully under anesthesia, and they wanted to just give him some local, and do it. I remember he started crying, and begging me not to let them hurt him again. By then I must have shut down, because I couldn’t even garner my take charge attitude. My sister spoke up that time, and told them he wanted to be put totally under and they finally relented.

I remember his last visit in the hospital bed by his local oncologist Dr. Z. He came and sat down next to Mike. He wasn’t a touchy feely guy, and honestly I never liked him. He told Mike that he knew his will was strong, but his body was exhausted from the fight. Mike didn’t cry, he thanked the dr for everything he had done over the last 3 years, and we never saw or heard from the doctor again.

I remember Mikes brother and nephew coming home with us from the hospital, and how relieved I was to have someone here with me to move the furniture, meet the hospice intake person, and just help me even for a few hours to shoulder this horrendous responsibility.

I remember us going through all the paperwork that night with the hospice lady. I remember her telling me that Mike could go into cardiac arrest at any time, and she wanted to know what he wanted EMS to do if that happened. He was still in denial, and he asked me what I thought. I remember reminding him as gently as I could that having EMS resuscitate him wouldn’t extend the quality of his life, it very may create new agonies of broken ribs, etc I remember he very soberly signed the paperwork telling them not to resuscitate, and I cursed silently to myself that he had to go through this. I never forgot her words though, and I didn’t sleep more than a few minutes at a time for the next two months while I monitored his breathing. He made jokes about how I would reach over in the middle of the night to make sure he was breathing all night long, and I sometimes wake myself up now reaching over to an empty pillow beside me.

It’s been a quiet few weeks around here. I finally gave in, and let my doctor give me some medication that has helped me to sleep. Being able to sleep for the first time in literally years has helped in ways I didn’t expect. Being a single mother, and caregiving I got used to taking care of everyone else, and honestly part of my challenge has been finding out who I am, and what I want as a person. Getting a good nights sleep has helped me to gain some prospective in a lot of areas of my life.

The manic highs and lows of the summer are gone, hopefully for good. In their place is a very flat feeling. I still feel all the feelings, It just feels like I am viewing them from a distance. I appreciate the break.

This grief stuff is hard work.

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More Jesus less alone http://mooreaboutthis.com/jesus-less-alone/ http://mooreaboutthis.com/jesus-less-alone/#comments Tue, 08 Aug 2017 18:29:33 +0000 http://mooreaboutthis.com/?p=780 Last week was tough. I had to have some surgery, was dealing with the feels from scattering Mikes remaining ashes up north, and was in the middle of the first post loss major decision i had to make alone. At… Continue Reading

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Last week was tough. I had to have some surgery, was dealing with the feels from scattering Mikes remaining ashes up north, and was in the middle of the first post loss major decision i had to make alone.

At one point, after a mostly sleepless night, I got down on my knees beside my bed, and just started praying. Please God help me. Take some of this burden i feel off of my shoulders.

Since that night, i have started dreaming about Mike again,gained a small measure of peace, am seeing some positive results from the surgery finally after suffering for six months, and am a little more hopeful that I will actually be happy again someday.

The truth is I have been very quick to hold a grudge these last several months.It’s like I just can’t deal with anything but the heavy weight of sadness. It has been an anchor around my leg, reminding me every time i move of it’s presence.

A dear friend told me that she doesn’t recognize me half the time, or even know who I am anymore. That is something we have in common. I hardly recognize myself. I am cognizant of the fact that I am changed. How can i not be. I just hope when this sadness finally abates, that my people will still be here. I am trying, I really am.

Mike has been coming to me in my dreams again, after months of not feeling him. He has been reminding me of our love, of our amazing relationship. I was so blessed to have something that many never have in their whole lives. When the sadness overwhelms, i try to remind myself. Sometimes i can even go a day without giving myself a pep talk. That’s a positive considering not so long ago I could barely go minute to minute.

The exercise is helping.

Thank you God for the carry when i couldn’t walk it alone.

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