This post was originally about something else. But it quickly morphed into several different topics; a stream of consciousness I guess.
And I’m just going to go with it.
Apparently, I have a lot on my mind…
The end of this year has been very hard for me.
I’m not sure exactly what it is. I felt it was just me, or just our family, that was having a hard time transitioning to the holidays. It didn’t feel like Christmas to us.
My husband had surgery the week before Christmas and he was (is) still feeling so horrible, that I just couldn’t make myself feel jolly. I pretend for the kids, of course. But I didn’t feel it the way I normally do.
I slowly started hearing from other friends that they also felt the same way; that the holidays just didn’t feel the same this year.
I do feel as if my funky mood has more to do with the realization that brain cancer is taking things from us that we are not ready to give up.
My husband was in bed most of Christmas day. He got up to see our girls’ excitement when they went through Santa’s loot; but quickly went back to bed. He was up, briefly, a few hours later to see his parents. The noise and commotion was too much for him, and he returned to bed. Maybe, if you it all up, he was awake for 5 hours. In bed for 19.
I hate that for him.
I hate it for me. I am so lonely, even in a house full of people.
I hate it for my children because I am not allowing them to be children. Every sentence ends with, “Quiet! Please, daddy is resting.” I’m afraid the only thing they will remember from their childhood is me constantly telling them to be quiet, daddy was always in bed and mommy was frantically trying to remember where she lost her mind and her car keys.
Tonight, one of our best friends called. It was good to talk to him; it has been a long time. He is town for the holidays with his wife and was calling to check in. It pained me to tell him that we couldn’t get together because my husband just didn’t feel up to it. I have delivered that sad message a few times in the last week, and it never gets any easier to say.
When his friends call, I know that they desperately want to talk to him. And I always warn them that he may not talk long -or me may not talk at all- and that their feelings shouldn’t be hurt. Most of the time, he declines calls; even from his parents.
Tonight, my husband talked to his friend for a few minutes. I left the room to give them some privacy and was shocked when I came back to find tears welling up in my husband’s eyes. I know this is so hard for him, to not be himself and not remember how to hold a conversation with one of his best friends. There were a lot of awkward silences, on both ends. He doesn’t remember a lot of things and I have to help him. It was very, very hard.
Another friend recently told me how sad it is to see the drastic change in my husband since the Spring. I know he’s not himself, but it was a harsh reality when someone else noticed it, too.
Yesterday was my post-Christmas cleaning day.
I undecorated the house.
I took the tree out.
I put all the items away and reorganized the boxes that will surely overwhelm me again next year.
And then, something hit me.
I started purging things.
I thoroughly cleaned the fridge.
And I do mean thoroughly.
I took apart the shelving.
I took out the drawers.
I cleaned the water line with several Q-Tips and a vinegar-based solution.
I scrubbed.
I washed.
I sanitized.
I dried everything and put it back in it’s proper location.
It took me four hours.
I did laundry into the wee hours of the morning.
If I didn’t know better (I clearly do!), I would bet I was 9 months pregnant and nesting in preparation for a newborn.
What has gotten into me?
I can control very few things in my life. I can control the cleanliness of my refrigerator.
I have to make an appointment tomorrow with the neurosurgeon. Not for more surgery, but to discuss permanent pain management.
I cannot believe we are at this point. Nothing else can be done and we go straight to drugs to keep the pain at bay?
It feels like a bad dream.
I do hope that he will feel better and I will capture glimpses of my husband again. I miss him. So much.
Oh, Skye. I am so sorry for what you are going through. Even though our situations are different I can identify with your pain of missing the way your husband used to be. I often feel that type of grief. Constantly getting used to new “normals” is so hard especially when you feel as if you are only seeing your husband decline. I wish I could give you a hug tonight. I will pray for you.
You are in my prayers!
Judy´s last blog ..Defining Role
Skye,,,thank you for sharing your heartfelt post with all of us. I cannot imagine the pain you are going through right now in seeing your husband in such pain. Your a very special person and your children are very lucky to have a wonderful caring mother…that is what they will remember when they are grown..not the constant reminders to be quiet as daddy is resting. They will remember the love you gave him during this hard time for you all. As Sharon and Judy both stated you are also in my prayers.
Skye–I’m also in deep gratitude for your willingness to share. One thought about the phone calls between Chad and his friends: It’s okay that the calls are awkward. It’s an awkward time. I think it means a great deal to his friends when Chad’s up to a call. And, it’s okay that the conversations are a struggle for Chad. It’s really not about the talking but about spending a few moments together. It’s about his friends letting him know how much he’s loved. Even if he can’t take the calls, he can take the love.
We’re all thinking of you and sending you many, many embraces of love.
The pain and the loss is not measured by whether it is a spouse or a parent that is slipping away from us. The one we have loved, still love,has in many ways disappeared to us. Only a golden thread of memories that continue to join our hearts together, continues on. Thank you for sharing Skye. I pray blessings, peace and strength on you and Chad in this coming year.
Donna Webb´s last blog ..Coal and Jewel