Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Been in the hospital with Edd for over a week now.  He had seizures and his cognitive skills have been greatly effected. Though I have not the strength or will to write all the details I would like to just write some thoughts and express the depth of my heartbreak, my numbness. I am somewhat on autopilot, just doing what needs to be done. I guess that's good for now.

I walked out of Edd's hospital room last night to get another blanket and unexpectedly encountered his nurse outside the door with tears in her eyes. The hall was quiet and we talked. Even she had personal pain. She told me her mom was dying too with a type of pulmonary disease. As I expressed compassion she apologized for showing that emotion knowing I already had enough of my own problems.  I told her it was somewhat comforting to know I was not the only one with grief.  She also said there was a woman in a nearby room, like me, going through the same type of hurt... And would I like to talk with her. She said she'd also ask the woman if she'd like to talk with me.... She did... So maybe we will meet at some point.

I don't know if this is permanent, but scrambled thoughts and confusion is now the norm.  Somewhere between reality and random unrelated ideas in his mind.  The heart is still gentle though. This conversation occurred this morning.

Him: That's so nice. You're here with the captain, your baby and your husband.

Me: Huh? Who is my baby?

Him: (smile) Kristen

Me: Who is my husband?

Him: (thinking) I don't know.

Me: Edd is my husband. I'm Kathi.

Him: (smiling ...and staring at me with tears in his eyes) He's a lucky man....

Me: She is a lucky woman too.

We smiled a long time staring into each others tear-filled eyes.

This love has changed, but it is still there.

“We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, 'Blessed are they that mourn,' and I accept it. I've got nothing that I hadn't bargained for. Of course it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not imagination.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

being a daughter

We've had lots of company during the last month.  It's been good.  But now that they've all gone home it seems extra quiet around the house.  I'm feeling a sense of peace that can only be explained by the fact that others are praying for us... for me.

Having my parents visit was extra special because I felt like a little girl again in some ways... and loved... and totally accepted.   You see, it doesn't matter how old you are.  You still need your mom and dad. 

I always feel so responsible with the need to be strong.  It was nice to be a daughter again.  I sometimes forget.  I feel like a mother often.  A wife ... for sure.  But not always a daughter.  I have the best parents in the world.

Last week I got to relish in it again though.  We had so much fun even in the midst of serious health concerns.  

Hanging out having coffee

Mom making a wonderful pork tenderloin dinner!

Jenni popped in from time to time too.

Nicky liked that!

A highlight was going to The European Bistro.  Authentic Hungarian food.  The owner, Anna, is from Hungary.   She kind of flirted with my dad, but Mom said she didn't mind.  Edd said if someone flirted with me, he'd deck him!  :-)

Dad with the Hungarian owner.

They had Bull's Blood, a Hungarian wine Dad enjoyed when visiting Hungary a few years back.

and a Hungarian white wine ... 

Freshly baked bread with a cream cheese, feta cheese and paprika spread.

The desserts were super deeelish... 

We even put up the Christmas tree though it's not decorated yet.

The week is over, but the memories are still with me.  I felt like I was nurtured.   I remembered that I am a daughter.  I remembered that I have the best parents in the world and that I am loved.

Monday, November 14, 2011

one day at a time

It's been a rough few weeks.  After the cyberknife and continual chemo Edd's side effects were brutal.  His mouth sores were over-the-top severe and others got really bad too.  So much so that we called his mom to help and she came to visit from the Houston area.  He developed a sore (hematoma) on his abdomen that got bigger and bigger, needed surgery, and is now a large wound needing care. 

Went to the oncologist this a.m. and he'll stop chemo for a while.  The wound is beginning (fingers crossed) to heal.  I am doing the wound care… told the doctor there that I could get a job with them now!  … nice people… We have encountered wonderful people all along this journey.

I know we will need to stop chemo for good eventually.  For now though we take one day at a time.  We talked today about how even though it often feels like too hard a road to travel, God has also been beside us all the way.  It is interesting the way it has changed us. In some strange way I feel as though God is molding me and making me a better person though the experience.  It is also interesting the way I can go from a strong, pragmatic, courageous, intelligent in-charge woman ....  to a fearful, weak, totally-drained little girl who wants to cry and is unsure of what to do next.  One who has lost herself in all of this.  The little girl comes out every once in a while.  Most of the time I have confidence and a "one day at a time" attitude that serves me well.... and gives both of us strength.

But when the little girl needs to come out... I let her.