Apr 5, 2011

i hate cancer

Last week my good friend and sister-in-law, Todd's caregiver when he was sick, found out after having a gall bladder attack, that she had cancer. It was shocking to all of us, especially to her family. Kelly is a rock. She is the strong one in the family. She is the glue that holds everyone together. Thankfully, they were able to get all the cancer and she is recuperating at home, but just the thought of losing her was enough to send us all into shock.

Wednesday as we waited to hear from the surgeon, all I could do was to remember that day I waited to hear from Todd's surgeons. Todd was in surgery for 10 hours on February 17, 2005. I remember the surgeon coming out after that long day, looking exhausted, and his pants and shoes covered in blood, Todd's blood. I can't remember much of what he said, but I remember him saying they almost lost him a few times, but that he was now stable in ICU.

What a horrible place ICU was. Machines beeping and clicking and humming. I watched as one machine pushed Todd's chest up and down to keep him breathing. I saw many more attached to him from everywhere beeping and humming away. I watched the nurses busily checking wires, tubes, bags, vitals. I remember staring at a stranger laying in that bed that they told me was Todd.

Cancer is a horrible thing. It sneaks up on you in silence, then pounces, and spreads quickly. It is painful. It is deadly. I don't like the word and I don't like the disease. It is a nightmare to live through. I hate cancer.

Mar 22, 2011

Going Backwards?

I was thinking the other weekend how I feel like I'm sliding backwards in this journey through grief. I'm standing in a grocery store and hear a distant voice asking me if they can help me find something. How can someone help me find something that I don't know what I'm looking for? I forget alot again. My children talk, but I don't hear them. I can't sleep. I feel like I'm back in that first year or so of grief, and I hate it. Or do I?

Remembering the first two years without Todd brings a strange feeling. I was in a very dark and scary valley. Everything hurt all the time, and I couldn't seem to even get out of bed. I never felt guilty staying in bed, nor guilt for not making dinner for my children, nor guilt for not hearing them when they talked to me,nor guilt for crying hours on end. There was a protective covering over that valley....a deep, thick, dark fog. It was safe in that fog.

As I began to make my way out of the fog, the light was bright, but it was warm. I felt like I was ready to move out there in that big world. I knew my Father was with me, and I knew He would never leave me; afterall, He was with me in that dark valley, wasn't He? So I began taking those baby steps.

Now the steps have become steep and rough. It feels like every day something is beating me back, trying to knock me down, trying to push me back into the valley. Then I think, is that so bad? Even though the valley was dark and cold, it was safe. I feel vulnerable now. I don't like the hits, nor the bruises and cuts they leave.

I hurt. I'm tired. I'm not even sure I am able to take another step forward without Todd. I'm not sure I even want to. Going backwards doesn't sound bad, it sounds good.

Feb 22, 2011

Stages In Life...

I'm making my way through the sixth year living without Todd. It feels strange. You know how you go through stages in your life? You know when you think about the future stages and what they will be like? All that is gone for me. Shattered dreams, yet still stepping into each stage, different from what I had imagined, and all now in a strange, eerie nightmare sense. I can't help but think, If Todd were here, how would it be different?

We used to talk about the teenage years of our children. Now they are here and gone with the boys. Winter turned 12 this year. Trina and Tiff both got their driver's permits. All of this is supposed to be done with Daddy. All of this was supposed to happen with Todd and I as a team. All of this was supposed to be fun and exciting, done walking beside and hand-in-hand with my Todd. Now I'm here alone. My future holds no hope of traveling and vacationing with a retired husband on the sands of the Caribbean, or taking cruises with Todd with no worry or responsibility of children. All that is gone now. It's just me and 4 older children, two younger. I love them all dearly, but I miss Todd increasingly, with each new stage of each life, including my own.