Why have I been spared?

In the last 8 days, death has impacted me 5 times. I am so humbled to still be walking this great earth.  I don't know why. My heart breaks for all the families. I don't understand why this is happening, but am continually being transformed by it. My life will never ever be the same. Sigh.

A fortnight of emotions

What a fortnight this has been!

I had a wonderful visit with my mother and her companion (#teamgary) in Florida.  Four days of bliss at the beach watching the waves slow dance with the shore, lounging by the swimming pool, attending a University of Florida football game and sipping rumchata nightly.  It was my first trip to Florida without children in nine years.  It was soul restoring.  It was long overdue.

Initially I started this blog posting out of a need to get on paper all that has happened in the last two weeks.  I started writing but it felt too juvenile.  So I started editing it, then it felt too restricted and self-censored.  I was staring at the screen frustrated at the problems I was having at writing this post.  So I walked away and did other things still mulling about which approach would be best, what words should I use and more.  And I realized that my frustration was self-induced.  No matter what I write or how I write it, I will always think it could have been better.  And that self-criticism and self-judgment was impeding my writing today.  So I said to just fuck it, write it - whether it rambles, is in bullet points, whatever just get it out.

So here goes.....

I wish I had a river to float away on... (just something I wrote today)

Never in the farthest reaches of my mind did I think I would be burying my wife before we would have spent years graying and losing our hair, getting fat and having our joints ache and creak at every move.  No I never thought that our time would be cut short.  Never thought I would be a widower at 48.  Never thought I would be this intimately connected to grief. No I thought we were going to be together forever.  But forever would have been too short too. 

Oh my sweet;

Oh my heart.

The first time I saw her, she was singing.  I had finished with some court business and needed a drink.  I didn’t know it was karaoke night.  I had just about walked out when I heard her sing.  It was hauntingly beautiful; it cut straight to my core and shook it, violently.  Her voice upturned my whole world.  I walked mesmerized to the bar and never took my eyes off her.   Nor did I take my eyes off her our whole time together.  Even when I slept, it was her face, her smile, her laugh in my dreams.  But the real thrill was opening my eyes to see her lying next to me, my dream come true. How am I supposed to manage now only seeing her in my dreams?

I couldn’t believe my luck.  Here, the most beautiful woman in the world let me in hers.  She let me love her; she let me make her laugh; she let me wipe her tears and caress her hair and hold her close.  She let me kiss her; she let me make love to her.  She let me listen to her sing. She let me love beyond what I thought was humanly possible.  And we were happy, so happy.

When she was diagnosed with cancer, she looked even more beautiful to me.  We approached the news with heavy hearts and minds.  The doctors said it was a complicated case.  We tried everything conventional and everything alternative.  We flew across the country seeing specialists, getting IV therapies, seeking second, third, fourth opinions.  Many sleepless nights I scoured the internet for any news, any hope that we would be able to cure this horrible disease.   She was my world, the reason the sky was so blue and the stars twinkled at night.

I felt helpless as she took the treatments and I watched her body, at first, rally and fight the cancer.  But  the days extended to months and once we passed the projected one-year mark, we both knew that her body wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer. 

I remember when she told me she was done fighting:

With tears spilling from her eyes, she said she didn’t want to do any more treatments.  She was tired and couldn’t bear to deal with any more medicine or the side effects.  She said that she wanted to use whatever energy she had to hold my hand and lay in my arms.  She said she wanted what days we had left to be about us and not about doctors and cancer.  She said “I’m absolutely and totally devastated and gutted that I won’t be around longer.  But I’m done being sick and I’m done being angry.  I just want to be surrounded in your love.  Will you do that for me?”  I grabbed her and pulled her to me, my tears never enough to relieve the sadness inside.  “yes, yes” I whispered to her.  And we just stood there, holding each other.  I felt if I held on to her, no one, and especially not cancer, could take her from me.  So I stood as tall and strong as I could and let her pour her heart and soul into mine.  I would carry all that she needed.  I would be her protector.

After she made the decision to end treatment, her body had a slight rebounding.  I naively hoped that it was a sign that she was getting better and wasn’t actually dying.  But about a month later, it was rudely evident, like a serrated-knife cutting skin rude!  Looking back, I’m glad we had that month.  We did as much on her bucket list as possible.  She asked me one morning to take her out again on the bike.  She said she was feeling strong enough to hold on and wanted to enjoy the sensation of the speed, the wind and the vibration of the bike again.  I’m telling you, I took us on the longest, most beautiful ride ever.  I tried to look at the scenery from her perspective and I think God made the colors that much more vibrant, and gave the wind a touch of cool.  I could feel her smiling behind me and every so often, she would just give me a little squeeze.  I whispered back, I love you too.

I hate this.  I hate remembering!  I don’t want this to be past tense.  I want her here.  I want to be touching her and holding her.  I want to be kissing her again.  I want to see her walk through the front door.  I want to listen to her sing again.  I don’t want to be talking and thinking about the last time we did this or we did that.  I want to wake up from this horrible dream and see her smiling face lying beside me.

When we made love, time stood still for us.  Even on those instances (they were RARE instances) when I came too quickly, time still stopped for us.  Our lovemaking was beyond instinctual; it was as if our two bodies were made exactly for each other.  Everything fit so well from our brains to our souls to our body parts.  I would say that when we made love, it impacted the universe but I might just be overcompensating for the fact that she is gone.  But I do know that it changed me, every single time.

The last time we made love, she initiated. 

She said “please honey.  Would you make love to me? “

I stammered “won’t it hurt?  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t think so.  Take it easy and slow, sweetie.  Please.”

“okay.” I hesitated. “ I’m scared though.  I might break you.”

“Then dammit, fix things so you won’t break me.  Christ, I just want to get laid!  Did you forget that I have cancer and I’m dying!?”

I looked at her shocked.  I stammered over my words, “I, sorry, I , oh, uh, gawd, give me a minute. I’ll be right back”.

I left the room so I could get my shit together. 

Bear with me, the  memories are just...

After a few deep breaths, I returned to our bedroom.  She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to the door.  Her shoulders were drooped and I could tell she was crying.  She said “I’m sorry, dear.  I’m just scared.  I wish I weren’t dying,“ she paused to catch her breath between sobs, “I only wanted you to make love to me so I could feel you inside once more.  To have time stop for us.””   She turned to look at me.  Her eyes were swollen from the tears. Her body was so much thinner than I remembered.  Her remaining hair was doing a poor job of hiding her skull.  The scars from her surgeries, the stretch marks from childbirth and that spot by her heart where the chemotherapy port used to be, glistened and shimmered in the light from the windows. 

“God you’re beautiful.” I said and walked over to her.  I took my time with her.  I touched every inch of her body making a mental map. I held her close and made love to her to last for an eternity.  She cried when I entered her.  I thought I was hurting her.  I asked her if I should stop and she said “no, please don’t ever stop loving me.  Don’t ever stop.”  I replied back that I loved her more than I could ever show.

Afterwards in our bed, cuddling and talking, she took my hand and weaved her fingers in and out of mine.  She looked up at me and said, “Darling, I keep thinking I need to tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am that I got cancer.  I keep thinking that I need you to know how thankful I am to have been your friend, lover, wife and that if I could change things, I would stay alive forever to be with you.”

I tried to shush her but she continued.  “please know all these things.  Please know that for everything I have said, there is so much I didn’t know how to say; that my love for you goes deeper than the words available to describe it.”  She wiped her tears.  “And that there would never have been enough time.  But I thank you for everything.  Everything.”  She sobbed through those last words.  I can still hear her say it.  I can still feel her chest heave with the tears and the breaths.  I can still feel her body fall into a slumber while I held her.  And I can still feel the sting of my tears.

She didn’t last much longer. 

She was surrounded by her family, her children, a few close friends and me.  I was sitting beside her cradling her in my arms, her children touching & holding her as well.  The morphine eased her pain.  I told her it was okay to go.  That I loved her and I always would.  And with her eyes closed & using all the strength she had left, she squeezed her kids’ hands, took three breaths and stopped.

And she was gone.

Just like that.

I hate cancer!!

My friend from my weekly support group is now in hospice care. She is 42. She did everything right. She is simply amazing. Her husband & 2 daughters are so devoted. There is sooo much love there. I can't stop crying. Crying for them & for me too. I hate cancer & what it does to people. I ask every day why did this happen to me? Have I been spared/cured? If so, why? How long do I have? What should I be doing? Why does the body turn on you? Why? Why? Why? It's just a matter of days now. She is in a lot of pain right now. That her pain will be over is a small, very small,  comfort.
Is it selfish that I am so thankful it is not me on hospice? I hope though that whenever it is my time, that I carry myself with the grace & courage she has. But I don't want to face that for decades upon decades. Decades.
Sorry. I'm a bit of a mess. Alone in the dark, a mess. My heart is so heavy for them; and then my own emotions for me come crashing like waves on a beach before a hurricane.
Sigh, exhale.

Sparky 2006-2014

The first time I saw him I knew he would become a part of our family.  I was sitting in the minivan with the kids just after church and I spotted two young beagle/lab(?) mix puppies sauntering back and forth across the street having so much fun.  I could almost hear their laughter from the smiles across their faces. 

The children and I worked with another family to corral the two dogs and put them in their backyard.  We fell in love with both dogs immediately but I knew I wouldn't have the stamina to have two puppies.  We left both dogs with the other family for our weekend trip to my brother's place in Oklahoma.  When we came back, the other family asked if we wanted one of the puppies.  We jumped at the chance and crossed our fingers that we could have the one they had named Sparky.  We brought him home that hot August day in 2006.  We were all thrilled.  I was thinking I must be crazy to take on a dog along with raising three children (11, 7 and 3) by myself.  But somehow I knew he belonged with us.

He fit right in.  He bonded with my ladybug and became truly HER dog.  Whenever she was around, he preferred her.  He would tolerate the rest of us but his heart was glued tightly and forever to her.  They played together.  She nursed him through his recovery from the neutering procedure.  (He was approximately 9 months old when he joined our family).  He followed her wherever she went.  He was her best friend.

Ladybug started playing the saxophone in 6th grade that year.  She would sit on the back porch practicing her scales and her lessons while Sparky sat beside her, howling and singing right along with her.  They were my very own lounge act.  I loved it.  She loved it.  And Sparky loved it.

He also loved to hide his prized possessions.  One time my sister gave Sparky (and our other dog Toby - we got him a year after Sparky & that was when I KNEW I was crazy) some chew toys.  Sparky loved getting chew toys and going to work immediately on them. However chew toys that resembled a bone were like gold to Sparky and he would set out to find the best hiding spot for it.  The scene would go like this:

Sparky would lurk around with the 'bone' in his mouth casting sideways glances at the two-legged and four-legged inhabitants, assessing who was watching, was it safe to hide it.  When he felt it was, he'd 'hide' it (maybe under a shoe or next to a back pack or under his sock collection).  And he'd walk back to the living room with the rest of us.  Toby would go 'find' the bone, retrieve it, bring it to the center of the room and start chewing on it.  Sparky would look at him with disbelief that it was found.  He would be thinking "How does he know?  Every. Single. Time?"  Sometimes Sparky would go so far as to hide it outside.  Toby would go out a few minutes later and bring the bone back inside.   Toby would chew on it for a few minutes and then abandon it to sit in the picture window barking at the falling leaves or two-legged creatures who might be breathing one street over. 

Once abandoned Sparky would tip toe back to the bone, pick it up in his mouth and start looking for a better place to hide it.  As long as you were watching him, he'd act like it was no big deal having a bone in his mouth.  Once he thought you weren't watching him, he'd hide it again.  Maybe this time in between shoes or besides the foot of the couch always making sure to creep away from it in order to not draw attention to it.  Within seconds of Sparky hiding it, Toby would be picking it up again.  This would go on for hours.  Watching this dynamic would leave us in stitches.

He loved going on walks around Carondelet Park.  He had to put up with being on a tandem leash and having Toby pull and bark the whole time.  When he did get to go on walks solo, he seemed to relish in the peace and quiet and attempted to pee on every tree, bush, fire hydrant, and mulch pile.  One time Ladybug had him on a walk and when they returned home, Sparky was sopping wet.  I asked what had happened and Ladybug told me through her tears and laughter that he just fell in Boat Lake.  Walking along minding his own business and not paying attention, splash! he went into the water.

He loved his sleep and especially on the big bed in Ladybug's room.  If you entered the room after they had retired for the night, he growled and barked so ferociously that if you didn't know better, you'd be concerned he'd bite your head off.  He was simply being protective.

When Ladybug went off to college and I started my chemo treatments, he followed me around.  He laid on the flokati rug beside my bed; he snuggled next to me on the couch in the basement; he laid beside the couch in the living room.  Wherever my tired, cancer-fighting body was laying he was there.  He would follow me to the kitchen, to the bathroom, outside, to the laundry room.  He became my shadow.  But his heart was still betrothed to Ladybug.  Sometimes when we would Facetime, Sparky would hear her voice and spend the whole convo trying to find her.  We thought it so cute and endearing at the time not thinking that maybe his heart was hurting with her absence.

I thanked Sparky last night for helping me through my chemo treatments, for being there when I couldn't breathe (a side effect of one of the drugs) and giving me a calm, loving face to focus on as I attempted to relax and get air back in my lungs.  I thanked him for keeping me warm all those fucking cold winter days/nights when the cold sensitivity made being anywhere painful.  I apologized to him that I couldn't help him get better.  And I thanked him for staying alive long enough to let Ladybug hold him close and kiss his face while he was put to sleep. 

Our hearts are breaking. Our grief is real.  We loved him so.

 

Sparky

2006-2014

RIP

T minus 23... alternate title "Dog gets to live one more day!"

It's cold and only going to get colder this week.  Kind of irritating because this is my "good week" and I was looking forward to being social.  But when temps are going to be 0 degrees F and below with 3-5 inches of snow on the ground, it makes it hard for anyone to go out and be social, much less me - the chemo patient!

And to add insult to injury, my dog chewed the thumb off my leather gloves!!! He already chewed up the leather on my great Strength bracelet that a friend gave me the other day.  So bummed about that!  I realize the dog is dealing with anxiety, Ladybug isn't here and my other dog is being fostered at a friend's until I'm done with chemo.  But seriously, leave my shit alone!

Yesterday's group support session was sobering as we had a new person join us and she is in palliative care.  This is where they don't try to treat the disease anymore; they just provide medications to ease the pain.  She was so sad.  Her eyes were profoundly hurting.  I didn't know what to say to her;  I wanted to make her smile or laugh but she didn't.  I left group with a heaviness in my heart because I don't know what I would do or how I would be if I were in her shoes.  I am so close to being done with my treatment (23 days!!) and I see my "life" resuming and cancer never coming back.  And I shed tears that mine was caught when it was; no one truly understands the magnitude of my gratitude.  But it's not for them to understand anyway.  It's mine.

Yesterday I talked about how this journey has taught me at least one thing:  to maximize my interactions with people (friends, family and strangers who will soon be friends) because you never know when you won't be able to do that anymore.  I'm not trying to be morbid here, just realistic, and so very contemplative.  A snow day will do that to you. 

I promise, dear readers, that I do have more funny stories to write about, so don't give up.  It won't always be about cancer, cancer, cancer.  And I'm looking forward to that as well!!!

Thanks for caring!
xx- The Philosopher

It could be over just like that!

Snap! It's over. Never to breathe again.  How do you make sense of it? Why do some live on & others are cut down right now? And what do you do?

I learned today of the passing of a former schoolmate. He was only 42. He had just returned from an anniversary weekend with his sweetheart. He was living a charmed life in Hollywood. He died of heart failure. His parents have to bury him. I look at his pictures on Facebook & cannot imagine that the world won't get to see his beaming smile anymore. I weep for the world.

Jay was a soccer player when I was a soccer stat girl. Best job ever in high school! He and his best friend Kirk were inseparable. I remember the two of them smiling, joking, teasing, flirting with me awkwardly (awkward for all of us because we were just learning how) and basically being these bright bursts of joy & energy. They were so much fun to watch on the pitch as well. A lot of fun. It is bittersweet recalling these memories now because Jay has died.

I feel for those left behind as they grieve and work to heal their hearts. I cannot imagine the incredible emptiness & ache they are feeling along with pure shock & bewilderment.

Why? Why him? Why now?

I don't want to write a bunch of cliches as a means of making sense of it. Because you really can't.  What it does is make me pause, celebrate that for a few years I got to be in Jay's beam of energy, and be very thankful & grateful for my life every day. It reminds me to not take for granted those I love nor procrastinate making time to see them, talk to them, and/or write them. Because it could all be over, just like that.  Snap.