Hi beautiful.
7 months today.
I miss you. I love you.
Sigh.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Rinoa!
Oh honeypie, I wish you had the chance to meet our latest family addition...
I'm proud and happy to share with you, the debut of our Rinoa!
Rinoa was born to my nephew Dave, and his partner Gemma. I'm so proud of the three of 'em.
Just wish you could join me here, baby, to celebrate this new little life.
I love you Rob. God, I miss you .
I'm proud and happy to share with you, the debut of our Rinoa!
Rinoa was born to my nephew Dave, and his partner Gemma. I'm so proud of the three of 'em.
Just wish you could join me here, baby, to celebrate this new little life.
I love you Rob. God, I miss you .
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Perhaps this is where the TRUE journey begins?
I just miss you so much, my Wombat. So much. I don't have the words.
********
Something I've intended to do since Rob died has been to visit each of these 50 states and scatter some of Rob's ashes, and help my Wombat rest, finally, with the wind, the ground and perhaps the ocean. This will be quite the journey, and indeed, quite the trial..... emotionally, physically and financially.
Because we had planned a life together filled with love, travel, frivolity and general "let us be twits together"-edness, I really want to help my Wombat see every state, every coast-line, every corner.
It's going to be beautiful, poignant and precious beyond words to have Rob accompany me on this journey to those four corners, and every state inbetween. Alaska and Hawaii included!
I've had some amazing and wonderful people offer to help Rob and I accomplish this, via YWBB. They - you - know how much I love and appreciate your presence and your kindness.
I simply can't wait for Mr and Mrs Wombat to meet our amazing new friends, and share a beautiful time of letting you and I, Rob, know that you'll be with me wherever I go in this great country, and help us all maybe give some sort of comfort to everyone else who has to go through this painful, heart-wrenching, soul-changing journey of grief.
Rob, I love you.
And dammit, we're going to make this happen.
Viva ASHES - A JOURNEY OF LOVE; the official, true and now beginning, version.
Always.
I love you.
********
Something I've intended to do since Rob died has been to visit each of these 50 states and scatter some of Rob's ashes, and help my Wombat rest, finally, with the wind, the ground and perhaps the ocean. This will be quite the journey, and indeed, quite the trial..... emotionally, physically and financially.
Because we had planned a life together filled with love, travel, frivolity and general "let us be twits together"-edness, I really want to help my Wombat see every state, every coast-line, every corner.
It's going to be beautiful, poignant and precious beyond words to have Rob accompany me on this journey to those four corners, and every state inbetween. Alaska and Hawaii included!
I've had some amazing and wonderful people offer to help Rob and I accomplish this, via YWBB. They - you - know how much I love and appreciate your presence and your kindness.
I simply can't wait for Mr and Mrs Wombat to meet our amazing new friends, and share a beautiful time of letting you and I, Rob, know that you'll be with me wherever I go in this great country, and help us all maybe give some sort of comfort to everyone else who has to go through this painful, heart-wrenching, soul-changing journey of grief.
Rob, I love you.
And dammit, we're going to make this happen.
Viva ASHES - A JOURNEY OF LOVE; the official, true and now beginning, version.
Always.
I love you.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
What they don't tell you
...is that grief is very, very physical. It hurts - not just psychologically, but physically, too.
...is that no matter how hard you try, you will never really be able to control where, and when, you burst into tears
...is that despite your wishing that you can fast forward 6 months in the hope of feeling better....that time will come, and it's still as painful and agonizing as the first day; and often, it's worse.
...is that when you're younger than say....60, people just don't know how to react when you tell them, "X died....."
...is that family members will often become demons fighting over what is, or isn't, left after your loved one dies.
...is that even when you're attending a group support session, you might (probably?) feel alienated simply because you're about 20 years younger than the average participant
...is that even your crying takes on a new property. It's a keening, wailing, child-like sobbing that won't quit, and dammit, the tears even make a sound when they fall, because they're so heavy.
And I don't even have my Mum around, despite me wanting just to crawl into her arms and sob.
Grief.
Sucks.
...is that no matter how hard you try, you will never really be able to control where, and when, you burst into tears
...is that despite your wishing that you can fast forward 6 months in the hope of feeling better....that time will come, and it's still as painful and agonizing as the first day; and often, it's worse.
...is that when you're younger than say....60, people just don't know how to react when you tell them, "X died....."
...is that family members will often become demons fighting over what is, or isn't, left after your loved one dies.
...is that even when you're attending a group support session, you might (probably?) feel alienated simply because you're about 20 years younger than the average participant
...is that even your crying takes on a new property. It's a keening, wailing, child-like sobbing that won't quit, and dammit, the tears even make a sound when they fall, because they're so heavy.
And I don't even have my Mum around, despite me wanting just to crawl into her arms and sob.
Grief.
Sucks.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Our little Luna
Just when you think you can move a few steps forward....something happens, and it sets you back a few thousand miles.
This might seem silly. Trivial, even. Perhaps it seems unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Still, it happened, and my heart is once more broken.
In 1999, my then-husband Greg and I adopted two little kittens. Luna Sea (lunacy - geddit?) and Silver Star.
Silver was her Daddy's girl. And Luna was, being smaller and the runt of the litter, a complete Mommy's girl. Not the brightest kitty on the planet, she would literally hold your hand while you were typing, and she'd offer the best cuddles and kitty kisses ever. She was my little goofball.
Today, Greg and Wendy had to put our Luna to sleep. This has hit me like a tonne of fucking bricks.
Gonna recap here, just a sec.
Rob - died 12/25/07
Brian (my stepfather) - died 3/29/08
Bob (Rob's Dad) - died 4/3/08
Mum - died 4/29/08
and now, our Luna.
I know, she was a kitty. And as such, we're not meant to grieve for our pets quite so much; yet that doesn't stop me from sobbing, and it doesn't stop me from wondering, "How much is one person expected to endure?!".
Rest in peace, my little Luna.
I'm just glad she had two Mommies - Wendy and I - and a Daddy who absolutely adored her.
Just wish I could stop crying.
Meh.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Here we are then.
This has probably been the most incredibly painful day of my life.
At least, in recent memory.
It's 6 months since you died, my beautiful Wombat. Six months since I last held you in my arms (funeral home notwithstanding). Six months since I last kissed your beautiful lips (ditto).
6 months.
At least, in recent memory.
It's 6 months since you died, my beautiful Wombat. Six months since I last held you in my arms (funeral home notwithstanding). Six months since I last kissed your beautiful lips (ditto).
6 months.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Really? Honestly? Truly? It's the sadness.
It's the sadness that gets to you.
I go through the day. I see people, I converse, I interact, I wince, I smile, I laugh, and still.... I cry. There's just this unshakable sadness that remains with you, even during the laughter.
It's laughter tinged with sadness, with bitterness, with anger. Please, someone, explain to me why Charles Manson is still alive, and Rob isn't alive anymore. Yes, yes, I realise there's no real answer to that question. It doesn't stop the question from being asked though.
I feel like Sharon Stone in "Alpha Dog".
(I'm very guilty of paraphrasing here)
"This is God's plan? Then God better get his ass down here and explain it to me....".
You know what? I felt for that character.
I utterly, painfully, horrifically, tragically understood what she meant. I go through every single emotion, every single day.
But still, it's just the sadness that really gets to you. It sits on your chest, a boulder of pain, unwilling to let go and relentless in its intensity. It threatens to crush your soul, your very vitality, every little thing you think you've kept intact.
It's just so fucking sad.
Still...I have hope. I really do think - more often than not - that I'll make it through this bloody awful journey.
I have to, you know?
I have to make it.
Look, go hug your dearest and nearest. Cherish today. There might not be a tomorrow.
I go through the day. I see people, I converse, I interact, I wince, I smile, I laugh, and still.... I cry. There's just this unshakable sadness that remains with you, even during the laughter.
It's laughter tinged with sadness, with bitterness, with anger. Please, someone, explain to me why Charles Manson is still alive, and Rob isn't alive anymore. Yes, yes, I realise there's no real answer to that question. It doesn't stop the question from being asked though.
I feel like Sharon Stone in "Alpha Dog".
(I'm very guilty of paraphrasing here)
"This is God's plan? Then God better get his ass down here and explain it to me....".
You know what? I felt for that character.
I utterly, painfully, horrifically, tragically understood what she meant. I go through every single emotion, every single day.
But still, it's just the sadness that really gets to you. It sits on your chest, a boulder of pain, unwilling to let go and relentless in its intensity. It threatens to crush your soul, your very vitality, every little thing you think you've kept intact.
It's just so fucking sad.
Still...I have hope. I really do think - more often than not - that I'll make it through this bloody awful journey.
I have to, you know?
I have to make it.
Look, go hug your dearest and nearest. Cherish today. There might not be a tomorrow.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Spaghetti Ramblings
(Posting between making spaghetti. If I get tomato sauce on the keyboard, forgive me)
You know, there's just no pleasing me as far as the weather goes.
Here's the official Tess Guide To Fargo Weather. Please take this with as big a pinch of salt as I just chucked into the pan of water.
There are, in general, two seasons of weather in North Dakota. F'cking hot, and F'cking cold.
November, December, January, February, March: ice, more snow, more snow than that even, lots of slipping on one's bum on the occasional day where it gets above zero and the snow melts into..ice! Granted, I almost managed to get through the entire season without doing that more than three times, which is quite the accomplishment. And it can get as cold as -35. That's Thirty Five Below Zero. Sometimes without the wind-chill. That's gotta be illegal, surely?!
April: One really nice week of weather! Lovely. Around 58 degrees. Easy, breezy lovely weather. The other three weeks blow.
May: Sometimes snow, sometimes in the 80s. It's our "schizophrenic" month, and May just can't seem to decide whether it wants to be in the FH or FC category. Also it can, and will, snow in May here....sometimes within days of a scorching 80-degree day of hellfire. I think that is on purpose, though I have no proof.
June, July, Aug, Sept: temps between 75-100, humidity higher than..well, the proverbial high thingy. Mosquitoes, flat hair, flooding, tornadoes, thunder storms, lightning strikes, the occasional blessed night of "less than 80 degrees oh thank you lawdy".
October: Again, one nice week of weather. A lovely 63 or so degrees. The other three weeks do, of course, suck. Think of October as May's slightly crankier younger brother. Same mental affliction applies, apparently.
Then you're back to winter!
You know, Wombat, for the longest time I haven't been able to fully comprehend how you can have nipplewithering cold (don't you think that sounds like it should be a small village iin England? No? Must be just me) weather and balldroppingly hot weather (which is obviously one village over from the previous) in the same state. It's not right. Pick one already! You shouldn't be able to get frostbite and heat deaths in the same state.
Grumble grumble grumble.
Ok, I'm done whining.
Spaghetti, anyone?
Edit: I think there might've been a critter in the package of spaghetti. I'm going to go with the "if I can't see it, I can't taste it" school of denial, thank you very much.
You know, there's just no pleasing me as far as the weather goes.
Here's the official Tess Guide To Fargo Weather. Please take this with as big a pinch of salt as I just chucked into the pan of water.
There are, in general, two seasons of weather in North Dakota. F'cking hot, and F'cking cold.
November, December, January, February, March: ice, more snow, more snow than that even, lots of slipping on one's bum on the occasional day where it gets above zero and the snow melts into..ice! Granted, I almost managed to get through the entire season without doing that more than three times, which is quite the accomplishment. And it can get as cold as -35. That's Thirty Five Below Zero. Sometimes without the wind-chill. That's gotta be illegal, surely?!
April: One really nice week of weather! Lovely. Around 58 degrees. Easy, breezy lovely weather. The other three weeks blow.
May: Sometimes snow, sometimes in the 80s. It's our "schizophrenic" month, and May just can't seem to decide whether it wants to be in the FH or FC category. Also it can, and will, snow in May here....sometimes within days of a scorching 80-degree day of hellfire. I think that is on purpose, though I have no proof.
June, July, Aug, Sept: temps between 75-100, humidity higher than..well, the proverbial high thingy. Mosquitoes, flat hair, flooding, tornadoes, thunder storms, lightning strikes, the occasional blessed night of "less than 80 degrees oh thank you lawdy".
October: Again, one nice week of weather. A lovely 63 or so degrees. The other three weeks do, of course, suck. Think of October as May's slightly crankier younger brother. Same mental affliction applies, apparently.
Then you're back to winter!
You know, Wombat, for the longest time I haven't been able to fully comprehend how you can have nipplewithering cold (don't you think that sounds like it should be a small village iin England? No? Must be just me) weather and balldroppingly hot weather (which is obviously one village over from the previous) in the same state. It's not right. Pick one already! You shouldn't be able to get frostbite and heat deaths in the same state.
Grumble grumble grumble.
Ok, I'm done whining.
Spaghetti, anyone?
Edit: I think there might've been a critter in the package of spaghetti. I'm going to go with the "if I can't see it, I can't taste it" school of denial, thank you very much.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Tornadoshmado
Hey, this is a relatively non-angsty entry. Go figure!
I'm coming out of hiding after about eleventy thousand days of tornado warnings. When it wasn't a tornado warning, it was a severe storm warning. When it wasn't a storm warning, it was a "hide from the friggin horrid heat" warning. And when it wasn't that, it was a "it's cold enough to freeze your nipples" warning. In the words of the fabulous Lewis Black, "my balls can't take it!!!"
At least, that'd be true if I had balls. But I don't.
Anyway.
Today, I'm really, really thankful. You know why? Bear with me, because this is going to be as rambling as ramblingation can ever be. And that's not only NOT a word, it's terrifyingly bad grammar to boot.
I'm thankful for:
Lori. My WonderTwin. You KNOW. Yes, you just KNOW. My god girl, I love you.
Moe. My partner in crime, and Scrabulaciousness. And I miss you.
Samantha: You know why. I need more Eliza pics, btw, girly!
Leeler: Oh, like I have to even say it :p
GregnWendy: Despite the odds, despite the history, you both came through for me.
Wor Geord & Tam: The painful irony is, you've both been there more than 90% of my immediate family. I love that. Your girlies are virtually unbearably gorgeous, too. Heh.
Wor Dave: We share both our "first crush" and other secrets. I'll never, ever forget that, hon :)
I'm thankful for having the opportunity to love you, Rob.
You were such an incredible man. So intelligent. So witty. So...well, so YOU.
I'm thankful that I got to share your life, even as it ended so tragically.
I'm just thankful, you know?
I'm coming out of hiding after about eleventy thousand days of tornado warnings. When it wasn't a tornado warning, it was a severe storm warning. When it wasn't a storm warning, it was a "hide from the friggin horrid heat" warning. And when it wasn't that, it was a "it's cold enough to freeze your nipples" warning. In the words of the fabulous Lewis Black, "my balls can't take it!!!"
At least, that'd be true if I had balls. But I don't.
Anyway.
Today, I'm really, really thankful. You know why? Bear with me, because this is going to be as rambling as ramblingation can ever be. And that's not only NOT a word, it's terrifyingly bad grammar to boot.
I'm thankful for:
Lori. My WonderTwin. You KNOW. Yes, you just KNOW. My god girl, I love you.
Moe. My partner in crime, and Scrabulaciousness. And I miss you.
Samantha: You know why. I need more Eliza pics, btw, girly!
Leeler: Oh, like I have to even say it :p
GregnWendy: Despite the odds, despite the history, you both came through for me.
Wor Geord & Tam: The painful irony is, you've both been there more than 90% of my immediate family. I love that. Your girlies are virtually unbearably gorgeous, too. Heh.
Wor Dave: We share both our "first crush" and other secrets. I'll never, ever forget that, hon :)
I'm thankful for having the opportunity to love you, Rob.
You were such an incredible man. So intelligent. So witty. So...well, so YOU.
I'm thankful that I got to share your life, even as it ended so tragically.
I'm just thankful, you know?
Monday, June 9, 2008
Jeezus, will I ever post a non-angsty entry?! Apparantly not today....
I think my hormones are going berserk or something.
For the past week or so (maybe longer, I don't really know), I've been haunted by memories of the night Rob died.
I keep seeing him there in bed, already gone.
I see him on the bedroom floor, paramedics trying to work on him.
I keep seeing him on that cold, cold table at the funeral home.
I read a passage in a book, and go to talk to him about it...and he can't answer.
I watch TV, and there are a million shows we'd watch together, make fun of, laugh about.
(Vincent D'Onofrio was a popular choice to ridicule; or rather, his character on L&O. Come ON people - who is he, God?!)
I try to relax in the tub, but I can't. That's what we used to do together.
I make garlic toast for the spaghetti, and I make too much because I forget there's only one of us now.
For some reason, everything today is making me cry.
I hate not being "we" anymore.
For the past week or so (maybe longer, I don't really know), I've been haunted by memories of the night Rob died.
I keep seeing him there in bed, already gone.
I see him on the bedroom floor, paramedics trying to work on him.
I keep seeing him on that cold, cold table at the funeral home.
I read a passage in a book, and go to talk to him about it...and he can't answer.
I watch TV, and there are a million shows we'd watch together, make fun of, laugh about.
(Vincent D'Onofrio was a popular choice to ridicule; or rather, his character on L&O. Come ON people - who is he, God?!)
I try to relax in the tub, but I can't. That's what we used to do together.
I make garlic toast for the spaghetti, and I make too much because I forget there's only one of us now.
For some reason, everything today is making me cry.
I hate not being "we" anymore.
Monday, June 2, 2008
2008 - it sucks balls.
You know one of the things I really, really hate about this?
You never once got to see 2008. At all.
I post on my support group board, and all of my posts are dated "08".
I email friends, and every one of them is dated "08".
I post on LJ, on Facebook - and every one of those posts is dated "08".
And you, my love, never got to see even one day of 2008.
That just fuckin kills me.
You never once got to see 2008. At all.
I post on my support group board, and all of my posts are dated "08".
I email friends, and every one of them is dated "08".
I post on LJ, on Facebook - and every one of those posts is dated "08".
And you, my love, never got to see even one day of 2008.
That just fuckin kills me.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
5 months out.
I have to admit, the 5-month mark was infinitely more painful and miserable than the one month mark.
Why is that, I wonder?
This week I've spent hours in bed - not really sleeping, as such, just laying there, missing you and wondering why this had to happen.
I - stupidly - reread one of my medical textbooks. Yup, the section on congestive heart failure. I couldn't help thinking "Oh sweetheart, you never stood a chance".
Retrospect being what it is, I do know that doing so made it worse.
Then again, perhaps that's the masochist in me.
(Bad Joke Alert)
Masochist: Hit me, hurt me!
Sadist: No......
Anyway.
We're now almost into June, and there are still times that I just cannot - will not? - comprehend that you're not here. You'd think I'd be used to the emptiness, the pain, the sheer agony of waking up without you. No, no I'm not used to it. I'm not sure I ever will be used to it.
Again, I've had a friend say to me, "Oh, hon...I know how you feel. My divorce was just awful".
No, hon, you really don't know how this feels. Divorce is a LOT different. I've done that, too.
Grief isn't loss OF love.
Grief is loss IN love.
Admittedly, I'd never want her to actually understand that difference. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, either.
I'm going to have home-made curried shrimp, and a large rum and coke.
Know why?
Because I can.
(That's another thing. I have money. I hate that - the ONLY reason I have money is because you died. I fucking hate that)
I miss you, Wombat.
Sigh.
Why is that, I wonder?
This week I've spent hours in bed - not really sleeping, as such, just laying there, missing you and wondering why this had to happen.
I - stupidly - reread one of my medical textbooks. Yup, the section on congestive heart failure. I couldn't help thinking "Oh sweetheart, you never stood a chance".
Retrospect being what it is, I do know that doing so made it worse.
Then again, perhaps that's the masochist in me.
(Bad Joke Alert)
Masochist: Hit me, hurt me!
Sadist: No......
Anyway.
We're now almost into June, and there are still times that I just cannot - will not? - comprehend that you're not here. You'd think I'd be used to the emptiness, the pain, the sheer agony of waking up without you. No, no I'm not used to it. I'm not sure I ever will be used to it.
Again, I've had a friend say to me, "Oh, hon...I know how you feel. My divorce was just awful".
No, hon, you really don't know how this feels. Divorce is a LOT different. I've done that, too.
Grief isn't loss OF love.
Grief is loss IN love.
Admittedly, I'd never want her to actually understand that difference. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy, either.
I'm going to have home-made curried shrimp, and a large rum and coke.
Know why?
Because I can.
(That's another thing. I have money. I hate that - the ONLY reason I have money is because you died. I fucking hate that)
I miss you, Wombat.
Sigh.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
It's just pants. It really is utter pants
Fuck me.
I'm not a stupid gal, as a rule.
But fuck, I wish I knew why I can, in the space of 10 minutes (let alone 10 hours, or 10 days)...
Smile
Laugh hysterically at something genuinely funny
Sob so hard my teeth feel like they're going to fall out
Get so pissed that I want to scream, shout and pull out my hair
This sucks!
(Congrats Tess, for stating the obvious again).
I want to hide under the covers and never get out of bed.
I want to scream at your brother and sister and ask them why they thought it was "ok" to be so cruel.
I want to ask them, "Where were YOU?!"
I want to not hurt.
This hurts more now than it did initially....though, to be honest, I suspect this has more to do with losing Mam so soon after you, your Dad and my stepdad. That's why I feel like I've taken a million steps backwards.
I knew - know - that CHF carries a ridiculously poor prognosis; my background told me that before I even had the chance to do the usual "Most Likely To Google" thing and look it up online.
I just didn't think it would be so soon.
I wasn't ready!
I WASN'T FUCKING READY!
IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR!
Fuck.
I'm not a stupid gal, as a rule.
But fuck, I wish I knew why I can, in the space of 10 minutes (let alone 10 hours, or 10 days)...
Smile
Laugh hysterically at something genuinely funny
Sob so hard my teeth feel like they're going to fall out
Get so pissed that I want to scream, shout and pull out my hair
This sucks!
(Congrats Tess, for stating the obvious again).
I want to hide under the covers and never get out of bed.
I want to scream at your brother and sister and ask them why they thought it was "ok" to be so cruel.
I want to ask them, "Where were YOU?!"
I want to not hurt.
This hurts more now than it did initially....though, to be honest, I suspect this has more to do with losing Mam so soon after you, your Dad and my stepdad. That's why I feel like I've taken a million steps backwards.
I knew - know - that CHF carries a ridiculously poor prognosis; my background told me that before I even had the chance to do the usual "Most Likely To Google" thing and look it up online.
I just didn't think it would be so soon.
I wasn't ready!
I WASN'T FUCKING READY!
IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR!
Fuck.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
I actually kind of enjoyed today.
The weather was beautiful - I think we hit a lovely 75. (We had snow two weeks ago...but c'mon, this IS Fargo, after all).
I went down to the hospital, and was greeted with many hugs by Sue, Cynthia and Julie. They've more or less taken care of me there since you passed, babe.
Treated myself, in the gift shop, to a little silver necklace. There's a square pendant, with a little pearl dangling from it. The square bits says "Do The Impossible".
Given that I've lost you, my Mum, your Dad, and my stepdad in the space of these last 16 weeks...I thought that was kind of apt.
And I'm smiling.
I hate that you're not here with me. I hate that I have had to join the Young Widows BB. I hate that I'm here alone. I hate that I can never touch, smell, taste or feel you again.
But I'm glad that I got to love you. I'm glad that I got to know you.
I'm glad for you, Rob. I'm glad.
Love you, Wombat.
The weather was beautiful - I think we hit a lovely 75. (We had snow two weeks ago...but c'mon, this IS Fargo, after all).
I went down to the hospital, and was greeted with many hugs by Sue, Cynthia and Julie. They've more or less taken care of me there since you passed, babe.
Treated myself, in the gift shop, to a little silver necklace. There's a square pendant, with a little pearl dangling from it. The square bits says "Do The Impossible".
Given that I've lost you, my Mum, your Dad, and my stepdad in the space of these last 16 weeks...I thought that was kind of apt.
And I'm smiling.
I hate that you're not here with me. I hate that I have had to join the Young Widows BB. I hate that I'm here alone. I hate that I can never touch, smell, taste or feel you again.
But I'm glad that I got to love you. I'm glad that I got to know you.
I'm glad for you, Rob. I'm glad.
Love you, Wombat.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Urgh.
For whatever reason, I've spent most of the last 24 hours in tears. I actually cried myself to sleep last night.
I did see the doctor today though; in addition to the thyroid, cholesterol and migraine meds, she prescribed me Celexa, an antidepressant. I was reluctant at first. But, then I thought about it a bit more.
In 16 weeks, I lost my soulmate, my mother, my stepfather and Rob's father. How the flying fuck are you meant to deal with this?!
I mean holy shit. I know I'm not the first person in the world to suffer the loss of someone beloved...but hell, FOUR people in that time frame?!
Come ON!
I'm hurting. I'm just hurting so very badly.
I can't even begin to put into words how much this hurts.
Shit.
For whatever reason, I've spent most of the last 24 hours in tears. I actually cried myself to sleep last night.
I did see the doctor today though; in addition to the thyroid, cholesterol and migraine meds, she prescribed me Celexa, an antidepressant. I was reluctant at first. But, then I thought about it a bit more.
In 16 weeks, I lost my soulmate, my mother, my stepfather and Rob's father. How the flying fuck are you meant to deal with this?!
I mean holy shit. I know I'm not the first person in the world to suffer the loss of someone beloved...but hell, FOUR people in that time frame?!
Come ON!
I'm hurting. I'm just hurting so very badly.
I can't even begin to put into words how much this hurts.
Shit.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
In the midst of dealing with Rob's death, and the death of my Mum, my stepfather and Rob's dad too...I seem to be caught in the middle of a family spat. A few members of Rob's family are fighting over what should, or should not, be theirs by rights.
It seems to be...bizarre, to have this reduced to a fight over possessions.
Look. I know that Rob's brother is grieving. He's suffered two deep losses in a very short period. And I know that Rob's stepmother is grieving the loss of Rob's father. By the same token - I just can't be in the middle of this fight over what Bob did, or didn't leave, to either person.
I just can't.
My Mum's funeral was today. Here obit is here
I couldn't make it, because of passport issues. Or rather, lack thereof. My passport expired in 06, and the earliest I can replace it is May 21.
I keep thinking, "It's not fair". But what IS fair?
It seems to be...bizarre, to have this reduced to a fight over possessions.
Look. I know that Rob's brother is grieving. He's suffered two deep losses in a very short period. And I know that Rob's stepmother is grieving the loss of Rob's father. By the same token - I just can't be in the middle of this fight over what Bob did, or didn't leave, to either person.
I just can't.
My Mum's funeral was today. Here obit is here
I couldn't make it, because of passport issues. Or rather, lack thereof. My passport expired in 06, and the earliest I can replace it is May 21.
I keep thinking, "It's not fair". But what IS fair?
Friday, May 2, 2008
May 2, 2008
I do feel as if I'm in the midst of a hurricane.
I need to refill my thyroid prescription, which I think is making my moods a little less than stable to begin with. But even taking that into consideration, I'm just bewildered.
Never in a million years do you think you're going to deal with so much in such a short period of time.
I think I was about coming to terms with, accepting, the fact that you're really not coming home any more. When I walk into the apartment, you're really never going to be there waiting for me, and you'll never snuggle up with me again.
Ok, no, perhaps I'm not there yet.
Carrie came over yesterday; she's so concerned about me. She literally told me "Tess...please....just please try and eat correctly, and sleep. Please don't try and do anything else. Don't work, don't go to any interviews this week, just please attend to yourself. This is almost too much, and I really need you to be very careful that you don't lose yourself".
That's why I don't think Mam's death has really hit me yet. Of course I've cried...but I think I'm still in shock. I'm devastated that I can't attend the funeral; my family also shielded me too, by all accounts. They knew Mam was sicker than I understood, and thought because I'd just lost you, hon, that it would be better for me not to have to worry about things there, too.
To be honest, I really can't put into words how I feel.
Lost. Alone. Devastated. Confused. Upset.
Sigh.
I need to refill my thyroid prescription, which I think is making my moods a little less than stable to begin with. But even taking that into consideration, I'm just bewildered.
Never in a million years do you think you're going to deal with so much in such a short period of time.
I think I was about coming to terms with, accepting, the fact that you're really not coming home any more. When I walk into the apartment, you're really never going to be there waiting for me, and you'll never snuggle up with me again.
Ok, no, perhaps I'm not there yet.
Carrie came over yesterday; she's so concerned about me. She literally told me "Tess...please....just please try and eat correctly, and sleep. Please don't try and do anything else. Don't work, don't go to any interviews this week, just please attend to yourself. This is almost too much, and I really need you to be very careful that you don't lose yourself".
That's why I don't think Mam's death has really hit me yet. Of course I've cried...but I think I'm still in shock. I'm devastated that I can't attend the funeral; my family also shielded me too, by all accounts. They knew Mam was sicker than I understood, and thought because I'd just lost you, hon, that it would be better for me not to have to worry about things there, too.
To be honest, I really can't put into words how I feel.
Lost. Alone. Devastated. Confused. Upset.
Sigh.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Now you'll get to meet Mum, my Wombat
I want to scream.
I want to scream, at somebody, at anybody....
"WHY?!"
I realise that there are no answers to this question, but it doesn't stop me from wanting those illusive answers.
My Mam died today. At around 9pm local time (3pm my time), she passed away with three of her four children with her. Barb, Cheryl and Gary were there - and I'm so relieved that they were.
I'm still numb.
I thought....don't we always?....we had longer. I was trying so desperately to get my passport sorted out so I could at least visit her in the next month or so...and today, she had to leave us.
My god. I am literally at a loss.
Avril Hardiman Wheatley - 5 Sept 1945 - 29 April 2008.
I love you, Mam.
I want to scream, at somebody, at anybody....
"WHY?!"
I realise that there are no answers to this question, but it doesn't stop me from wanting those illusive answers.
My Mam died today. At around 9pm local time (3pm my time), she passed away with three of her four children with her. Barb, Cheryl and Gary were there - and I'm so relieved that they were.
I'm still numb.
I thought....don't we always?....we had longer. I was trying so desperately to get my passport sorted out so I could at least visit her in the next month or so...and today, she had to leave us.
My god. I am literally at a loss.
Avril Hardiman Wheatley - 5 Sept 1945 - 29 April 2008.
I love you, Mam.
Make that four :(
They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
If that's the case, I'll be approaching SuperHuman strength right around August.
My mum has been given "12 weeks at best" to live.
Look. I knew she had ovarian cancer (only diagnosed in January), and I knew she was stage III. But my god...SO soon?! The last I'd heard, she was undergoing chemo to see if the tumours would shrink enough to try surgery. And then...this.
I'm in a whirlwind, trying to organize emergency travel documents (my passport expired years ago) so I can get back to the UK in time.
If I was religious, I surely would be asking "why?!?!?!?"
Rob.
Stepdad.
Bob (Rob's dad)
Mum.
I'm still in shock I think.
If that's the case, I'll be approaching SuperHuman strength right around August.
My mum has been given "12 weeks at best" to live.
Look. I knew she had ovarian cancer (only diagnosed in January), and I knew she was stage III. But my god...SO soon?! The last I'd heard, she was undergoing chemo to see if the tumours would shrink enough to try surgery. And then...this.
I'm in a whirlwind, trying to organize emergency travel documents (my passport expired years ago) so I can get back to the UK in time.
If I was religious, I surely would be asking "why?!?!?!?"
Rob.
Stepdad.
Bob (Rob's dad)
Mum.
I'm still in shock I think.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
"Cute" doesn't even come close!
I love these photos. You'll note that the cup is very strategically placed - there is a second picture in the series, but I thought I'd better not post that one publicly, given that the cup moved somewhat!
************************************
The first time we watched that diet Pepsi commercial, we were hysterical.
Research shows that 56% of diet cola drinkers think that diet Pepsi...has more...cola taste......than diet Coke.. (research)...
It was the puppy!
And somehow, as things often did, the whole commercial became synonymous with "us".
Except we changed it.....and gradually, we decided that it was actually 56% of PUPPIES who thought that diet Pepsi had more cola taste etc.
(The other 46% just weren't asked. They were there for the free pie. You know. "Casting call! All Puppies! Say you like our drink and we'll give you free pie!").
Which of course lead to our theory that 56% of puppies think...(insert opinion here)....
Example:
Tess: 56% of puppies would be scared of Vincent D'Onofrio!
Rob: And the others weren't asked....
Tess: No, they just wanted their pie!
************************************
The first time we watched that diet Pepsi commercial, we were hysterical.
Research shows that 56% of diet cola drinkers think that diet Pepsi...has more...cola taste......than diet Coke.. (research)...
It was the puppy!
And somehow, as things often did, the whole commercial became synonymous with "us".
Except we changed it.....and gradually, we decided that it was actually 56% of PUPPIES who thought that diet Pepsi had more cola taste etc.
(The other 46% just weren't asked. They were there for the free pie. You know. "Casting call! All Puppies! Say you like our drink and we'll give you free pie!").
Which of course lead to our theory that 56% of puppies think...(insert opinion here)....
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Tears & Ashes
Something occurred to me last night.
I was cleaning up some paperwork (you know...medical bills, lab reports, yada yada) and I got a bit weepy. The tears accidentally fell onto one of those bits of paper, and it hit me.
When I was "talking" to your Dad, laying there all peaceful in his casket, I was crying so, so hard. I'm not sure any coherent words actually came out, but that's beside the point. I did notice some of my tears drop onto his shirt. I couldn't very well wipe 'em off, now could I?!
(Reaching into a casket and tugging on the deceased's clothing is not exactly good funerary etiquette)
And last night it struck me - my tears, and your ashes, were buried in that casket alongside your Dad. There's a tiny part of you and I which will always be together, forever.
And that gave me some comfort, kiddo.
I was cleaning up some paperwork (you know...medical bills, lab reports, yada yada) and I got a bit weepy. The tears accidentally fell onto one of those bits of paper, and it hit me.
When I was "talking" to your Dad, laying there all peaceful in his casket, I was crying so, so hard. I'm not sure any coherent words actually came out, but that's beside the point. I did notice some of my tears drop onto his shirt. I couldn't very well wipe 'em off, now could I?!
(Reaching into a casket and tugging on the deceased's clothing is not exactly good funerary etiquette)
And last night it struck me - my tears, and your ashes, were buried in that casket alongside your Dad. There's a tiny part of you and I which will always be together, forever.
And that gave me some comfort, kiddo.
Monday, April 21, 2008
April 21, 08
Another odd day.
I spent the weekend more or less entirely in bed; I think after last week and the week prior my system just needed to recover. I was concerned for a bit until this occurred to me.
I've had another of your pics scanned, and I've got quite a few baby pics that I'd like to add to the page too...uh, once I figure out how to do it.
Ok, after a brief "read" and a bit of an edit...
Got a lot of stuff to do tomorrow, with credit unions, wire transfers and the like. Needless to say I'll be back later.
Kisses.
Friday, April 18, 2008
I really should be in bed, tucked up with Pigbit!
I can't wait to scan in your baby photographs. You were such a beautiful baby! What with your blonde (!) spiky hair, your huge brown eyes - "gorgeous" is an understatement, Wombat.
This week has been crazy. Greg and I have come to a very fair settlement, and I'll actually be solvent as of tomorrow. It's something which both thrills and terrifies me - you know why, too. We'd made an agreement before, and it fell through - but this time I think it's different. As well as relief, there'll be a lot of pain, I know. This is something I wanted to share with you; it was meant to help us in our life, not just me.
Since you died, sweetheart, my life has changed so dramatically.
Ok, I can't seem to stop the tears tonight....but they're not just tears of sadness. I'm experiencing joy, because I have these beautiful memories of you, and of us....and I now have, through those photos, more of the pieces from your childhood. It's a wonderful gift, you know?
Goodnight, love. Yes, I've got PigBit with me...and I'm being very careful to make sure he doesn't cry!
(I've also got your underwear..your "knickers", in my purse. They comfort me. They're...well, they just remind me of you....)
More later.
This week has been crazy. Greg and I have come to a very fair settlement, and I'll actually be solvent as of tomorrow. It's something which both thrills and terrifies me - you know why, too. We'd made an agreement before, and it fell through - but this time I think it's different. As well as relief, there'll be a lot of pain, I know. This is something I wanted to share with you; it was meant to help us in our life, not just me.
Since you died, sweetheart, my life has changed so dramatically.
Ok, I can't seem to stop the tears tonight....but they're not just tears of sadness. I'm experiencing joy, because I have these beautiful memories of you, and of us....and I now have, through those photos, more of the pieces from your childhood. It's a wonderful gift, you know?
Goodnight, love. Yes, I've got PigBit with me...and I'm being very careful to make sure he doesn't cry!
(I've also got your underwear..your "knickers", in my purse. They comfort me. They're...well, they just remind me of you....)
More later.
Monday, April 14, 2008
It hurts.
I'm just so sad at the moment.
I don't have the words, really, to explain how it feels.
I just don't. The events of the last week haven't helped, I suppose.
I'm just so sad.
I don't have the words, really, to explain how it feels.
I just don't. The events of the last week haven't helped, I suppose.
I'm just so sad.
Hopefully this will be the last time I ever have to post something like this.
This is Angie's first communication:
Tess, you should really leave MY mother alone and stop saying that was MY brothers funeral you missed, it was MY fathers funeral and MY brother was mentioned, if it was MY brothers funeral, MY mother would have been there, also you already took the attention away from MY family including Karen at MY fathers funeral, you also upset MY grandparents, uncles and aunts.
You feel really entightled because you lived with MY brother, I have a boyfriend, so sure I understand that but I would never take the attention away from his family because they are his family.
You just want to concentrate so much on yourself right now and pull whatever means tricks you can, so I can't even mourn MY father and MY brother, well hopefully you never feel the pain of losing actual family members because my heart is broken, instead of healing though and spending time with the family I have left, We have to deal with your silliness and throwing fits.
I know you spent more time with MY brother and father in the last couple of years but I spent MY whole life with them and it would take more than email to tell you every second I had with them.
You should also let Karen have some peace right now, because I can't even begin to imagine the pain she is in, losing her husband.
She doesn't need this drama, and she should have been comforted at MY father's funeral, not comforting you.
I will ask you again to leave us alone so we can mourn and remember the family we lost. Stop trying to get so much attention. We need to heal and enjoy the time we have together and you keep sending my mother emails instead of helping her with her pain from losing her oldest son, another pain that
I am sure you or I can't even imagine.
You should be a friend to Karen and MY mother instead of trying to hurt MY mother.
I have had enough of your games, and you need to stop. This is my families time right now. Not yours.
If you aren't sending MY mother an email full of happiness then do not push send.
Good Day
Angela Bruun
And this is my response:
"Your brother was a beautiful, wonderful man. I was blessed to know him, and to love him, and to have to opportunity to nurse him through the last stages of his life. He was my partner, and my soulmate. Though it pains me to say it, he would have been incredibly saddened and disappointed with what happened last week. You see, part of Rob's wishes - and those of his father - were for me to have the opportunity to say goodbye to him as he was laid to rest with his father.
My grief will be a part of me forever, Angela. Just as yours will be a part of you. I understand that you're brokenhearted - you have suffered two incredibly difficult losses in a very short period of time, and the pain must be so hard to deal with. In the same period, I lost my soulmate, my stepfather and my fiance's father too. I know that you must realise that you're not the only one suffering during this tragic time.
I'm with Karen now, giving her as much support and love as I can; the same as I was trying to do last week. Karen was also incredibly upset with what happened; I was there supporting her too, and she really wanted me with her - but I was prevented from helping her.
All I have ever done is try to be there and offer comfort; same as I tried to do with your Mom when I saw her. And the same as I did with your father when Rob died. And though it isn't what you want to hear, I've been here since the beginning of Rob's illness, and through that time developed a bond with Bob and Karen that, though tragic, will be part of us forever. There is no ownership of loved ones, just as there is no ownership of grief. Karen and I have shared in the love, caregiving and partnership of being with Bob and Rob, and though neither of us wanted to mourn these two amazing men, we now tragically share that bond too.
I was part of Bob's life too, and I took care of, adored and was lucky enough to be loved by his son. Neither of them would have wanted this bitterness, Angela. We are ALL mourning, and we all have that right. I loved those two men, and I will continue to love and mourn them, just as you and your family will continue to mourn.
I would ask that for Rob's sake if nothing else, to please let this anger go.
Tess."
This is Angie's first communication:
Tess, you should really leave MY mother alone and stop saying that was MY brothers funeral you missed, it was MY fathers funeral and MY brother was mentioned, if it was MY brothers funeral, MY mother would have been there, also you already took the attention away from MY family including Karen at MY fathers funeral, you also upset MY grandparents, uncles and aunts.
You feel really entightled because you lived with MY brother, I have a boyfriend, so sure I understand that but I would never take the attention away from his family because they are his family.
You just want to concentrate so much on yourself right now and pull whatever means tricks you can, so I can't even mourn MY father and MY brother, well hopefully you never feel the pain of losing actual family members because my heart is broken, instead of healing though and spending time with the family I have left, We have to deal with your silliness and throwing fits.
I know you spent more time with MY brother and father in the last couple of years but I spent MY whole life with them and it would take more than email to tell you every second I had with them.
You should also let Karen have some peace right now, because I can't even begin to imagine the pain she is in, losing her husband.
She doesn't need this drama, and she should have been comforted at MY father's funeral, not comforting you.
I will ask you again to leave us alone so we can mourn and remember the family we lost. Stop trying to get so much attention. We need to heal and enjoy the time we have together and you keep sending my mother emails instead of helping her with her pain from losing her oldest son, another pain that
I am sure you or I can't even imagine.You should be a friend to Karen and MY mother instead of trying to hurt MY mother.
I have had enough of your games, and you need to stop. This is my families time right now. Not yours.
If you aren't sending MY mother an email full of happiness then do not push send.
Good Day
Angela Bruun
And this is my response:
"Your brother was a beautiful, wonderful man. I was blessed to know him, and to love him, and to have to opportunity to nurse him through the last stages of his life. He was my partner, and my soulmate. Though it pains me to say it, he would have been incredibly saddened and disappointed with what happened last week. You see, part of Rob's wishes - and those of his father - were for me to have the opportunity to say goodbye to him as he was laid to rest with his father.
My grief will be a part of me forever, Angela. Just as yours will be a part of you. I understand that you're brokenhearted - you have suffered two incredibly difficult losses in a very short period of time, and the pain must be so hard to deal with. In the same period, I lost my soulmate, my stepfather and my fiance's father too. I know that you must realise that you're not the only one suffering during this tragic time.
I'm with Karen now, giving her as much support and love as I can; the same as I was trying to do last week. Karen was also incredibly upset with what happened; I was there supporting her too, and she really wanted me with her - but I was prevented from helping her.
All I have ever done is try to be there and offer comfort; same as I tried to do with your Mom when I saw her. And the same as I did with your father when Rob died. And though it isn't what you want to hear, I've been here since the beginning of Rob's illness, and through that time developed a bond with Bob and Karen that, though tragic, will be part of us forever. There is no ownership of loved ones, just as there is no ownership of grief. Karen and I have shared in the love, caregiving and partnership of being with Bob and Rob, and though neither of us wanted to mourn these two amazing men, we now tragically share that bond too.
I was part of Bob's life too, and I took care of, adored and was lucky enough to be loved by his son. Neither of them would have wanted this bitterness, Angela. We are ALL mourning, and we all have that right. I loved those two men, and I will continue to love and mourn them, just as you and your family will continue to mourn.
I would ask that for Rob's sake if nothing else, to please let this anger go.
Tess."
Sunday, April 13, 2008
A bit of a cross-post; from LJ 4/13/08
Hi sweetheart; what follows is a message from Karen. She posted it at LJ, and I said I'd post it here, too.
"Dear Rob:
It is three days after I buried your father so now I can tell you of my grief at your passing. Since December each day I held my grief inside to be the strong one for your Dad, yet inside I wept for you and your Dad. His health declined so rapidly after you passed that we spent most of our time in the hospital or the doctors. Your Dad was even seeing a head doctor as he called her and he insisted that I go into the sessions with him. I never spoke, never voiced what I felt, or gave an opinion on anything but I died inside each time we went as he spoke about the pain he had experienced with your mother and his feeling that he had failed you. He always knew about her unfaithfulness, her stealing and her lies, but he loved you and Adam and Angie so much and he wanted so much for you and he was afraid what their not being together would mean to you kids and so he stayed year after year. His love for his children outweighed any pain that she or anyone else could ever have inflicted on him. I know your Dad wasn't perfect either, and I can hear you call me a silly Christian, but like I always said to you if God had made us perfect we would all still be in Eden. Eve may have offered the apple but Adam was dumb enough to take it. (ha, ha).
Rob, I remember so many of our "deep" discussions and our outbursts of laughter and how I loved to tease Tess about being British and how amused you were at me. I also remember the times I held you as you wept and though you didn't know silently I prayed for you. Now, I must beg you to forgive me because I could only fulfill part of my promise to you. As you and your Dad wished, you (ok, I know it is ashes but to me it is you) are buried with your Dad, and yes, I will be putting flowers on the grave and visiting you both as I promised, but Tess was not allowed to attend because your brother and sister did not want her there and being the kind, understanding person that she is Tess agreed not to go in and asked me not to create drama, as you would say. I will live forever with the knowledge that I did not fulfill my promise to you, my son by love, or your Dad's gentle request that Tess attend to say goodbye. As you and your Dad probably saw (ok, ok, I know that old Christian thing again) the whole fuss came up when I tried to honor your Dad's wishes of not having your mother there as he left this earth. I know that you two had talked about this and that you understood how your Dad felt but I guess I didn't make it clear enough in the beginning. My heart just would not allow me not to allow your Mother at the funeral at the Church for Adam and Angies sake. I know that you will understand that because you loved your brother and your sister. I guess I just didn't make it clear and to be honest I just didn't think that anyone would go against your Dad's wishes at this the end. I honestly did not know Rob that your siblings held so much anger at Tess. Angie actually acused Tess of being high at your memorial service and of stealing cards. Rob, Tess collasped after you died and I took her to the ER where they gave me medication to allow her to get through the service. Please believe me, I did not know that they would think she was high. I thought they would know how very much she loved you and how hard it was to lose you, especially so soon after your surgery when we told you were OK. And, if anyone is to blame for "stealing" cards it was me. I put the cards in envelope and brought them home and I was in such shock that I could barely function and dealing with your Dad. I put them away for your Dad and Tess to look at when they felt they could. Tess never saw any of the cards except the lawyers. I am so sorry that she is being blamed for what I did.
Rob, I am so sorry about the "drama at the cemetery", I know how much you hated and did want that you happen. I had become very ill with my MS and somewhere during my ramblings I asked Tess to send your Mother an email just to make sure there was no misunderstandings at the cemetery because I didn't think I could manage because stress makes my MS so much worse and I stop breathing. Unfortunately, Tess had a language problem (ha,ha, just teasing the old British pun, you know) and did not according to them write the email in such a way that everyone did not take offense to. So, my dear Rob, please forgive me for the drama that you hated so much and for letting you down. I really did try. Please know that as I stood beside your fathers coffin at the church and Tess stood by the coffin, suddenly it was December all over again and this time I was also losing your Dad and no matter how hard I tried I wasn't going to be able to "fix" this. Suddenly it became all too real. I was never going to see you or your Dad again and all the grief and sadness I held in so tightly came rushing out. Alls, I could do is cling to Tess and weep for we had both lost a part of our hearts that will never heal.
All my love,
The ol stepmom"
*****************************************
"Dear Rob:
It is three days after I buried your father so now I can tell you of my grief at your passing. Since December each day I held my grief inside to be the strong one for your Dad, yet inside I wept for you and your Dad. His health declined so rapidly after you passed that we spent most of our time in the hospital or the doctors. Your Dad was even seeing a head doctor as he called her and he insisted that I go into the sessions with him. I never spoke, never voiced what I felt, or gave an opinion on anything but I died inside each time we went as he spoke about the pain he had experienced with your mother and his feeling that he had failed you. He always knew about her unfaithfulness, her stealing and her lies, but he loved you and Adam and Angie so much and he wanted so much for you and he was afraid what their not being together would mean to you kids and so he stayed year after year. His love for his children outweighed any pain that she or anyone else could ever have inflicted on him. I know your Dad wasn't perfect either, and I can hear you call me a silly Christian, but like I always said to you if God had made us perfect we would all still be in Eden. Eve may have offered the apple but Adam was dumb enough to take it. (ha, ha).
Rob, I remember so many of our "deep" discussions and our outbursts of laughter and how I loved to tease Tess about being British and how amused you were at me. I also remember the times I held you as you wept and though you didn't know silently I prayed for you. Now, I must beg you to forgive me because I could only fulfill part of my promise to you. As you and your Dad wished, you (ok, I know it is ashes but to me it is you) are buried with your Dad, and yes, I will be putting flowers on the grave and visiting you both as I promised, but Tess was not allowed to attend because your brother and sister did not want her there and being the kind, understanding person that she is Tess agreed not to go in and asked me not to create drama, as you would say. I will live forever with the knowledge that I did not fulfill my promise to you, my son by love, or your Dad's gentle request that Tess attend to say goodbye. As you and your Dad probably saw (ok, ok, I know that old Christian thing again) the whole fuss came up when I tried to honor your Dad's wishes of not having your mother there as he left this earth. I know that you two had talked about this and that you understood how your Dad felt but I guess I didn't make it clear enough in the beginning. My heart just would not allow me not to allow your Mother at the funeral at the Church for Adam and Angies sake. I know that you will understand that because you loved your brother and your sister. I guess I just didn't make it clear and to be honest I just didn't think that anyone would go against your Dad's wishes at this the end. I honestly did not know Rob that your siblings held so much anger at Tess. Angie actually acused Tess of being high at your memorial service and of stealing cards. Rob, Tess collasped after you died and I took her to the ER where they gave me medication to allow her to get through the service. Please believe me, I did not know that they would think she was high. I thought they would know how very much she loved you and how hard it was to lose you, especially so soon after your surgery when we told you were OK. And, if anyone is to blame for "stealing" cards it was me. I put the cards in envelope and brought them home and I was in such shock that I could barely function and dealing with your Dad. I put them away for your Dad and Tess to look at when they felt they could. Tess never saw any of the cards except the lawyers. I am so sorry that she is being blamed for what I did.
Rob, I am so sorry about the "drama at the cemetery", I know how much you hated and did want that you happen. I had become very ill with my MS and somewhere during my ramblings I asked Tess to send your Mother an email just to make sure there was no misunderstandings at the cemetery because I didn't think I could manage because stress makes my MS so much worse and I stop breathing. Unfortunately, Tess had a language problem (ha,ha, just teasing the old British pun, you know) and did not according to them write the email in such a way that everyone did not take offense to. So, my dear Rob, please forgive me for the drama that you hated so much and for letting you down. I really did try. Please know that as I stood beside your fathers coffin at the church and Tess stood by the coffin, suddenly it was December all over again and this time I was also losing your Dad and no matter how hard I tried I wasn't going to be able to "fix" this. Suddenly it became all too real. I was never going to see you or your Dad again and all the grief and sadness I held in so tightly came rushing out. Alls, I could do is cling to Tess and weep for we had both lost a part of our hearts that will never heal.
All my love,
The ol stepmom"
*****************************************
I'm not even sure where to start.
Bob's funeral was beautiful; Karen had arranged a really nice casket, with a memory box containing pictures of Rob and his siblings, Bob with his doggies, Bob's granddaughter Abby...one of his watches...it was just a really touching and poignant part of Bob's final journey. Karen and I held onto each other pretty much the entire time; there were many tears and it brought back to me a lot of emotion and pain from Rob's funeral. In some ways it was a bit like burying him, too.
The interment, however, was another story entirely. Karen and I had got to the cemetery very early; it was both Karen's and Bob's wishes that Cindy simply did not attend the funeral so we didn't expect to see her there, as it seemed a bit of a no-brainer that she'd respect Karen & Bob's wishes. Frankly, I thought it was pretty great of Karen to "ok" Cindy's attendance to the main service (mentioned above) on Tuesday...Bob's wishes were known by everyone and there was no ambiguity - he just didn't want Cindy there to begin with, let alone during the smaller, more intimate interment ceremony on Thursday, but we were glad that Cindy got to say goodbye to Bob at the public service on Tuesday. Because Cindy and I had been close via email, I was very glad that she was able to be there for her kids and there was not - so I thought - any animosity between us.
And then....Rob's sister just ripped into me...she was so cruel, so incredibly rude, and so thoughtless. I can't even repeat here what she said; this journal is one of deep love and I'd feel quite weird sullying Rob's memory in that way. I understand she's angry, and probably feels an awful lot of guilt for never visiting Rob while he was sick, but still. Her words cut like a knife, and I was never given a chance to address anything that she said.
Anyway...it got a little worse; as it became clear that Cindy's presence wasn't really wanted at this smaller, intimate service, Rob's siblings decided to play "tit for tat" and stated that they had a problem with me attending the service itself. If Cindy couldn't attend, then I couldn't either. Poor Karen was devastated; not only was Cindy present (though by this point the priest and funeral director had pursuaded her to wait in the car outside), but Bob's two kids had effectively barred me from attending the service; Karen actually said "But Rob's ashes are in there too!..."...but that didn't matter. I wasn't married to Rob (as if that made a difference). So, rather than exacerbate an already horrific situation, I just told Karen that it was ok, that she should go inside and say goodbye to our boys, and that Rob was with me at home anyway. I was incredibly upset that I couldn't support Karen....this was about HER, and her loss, not a petty argument started by Bob's children, and I only wanted to be there for her, as she had been for me at Rob's funeral.
My heart broke. I sat in the car and just wailed, and sobbed and I felt completely crushed...they wouldn't let me bury my baby. It didn't seem to matter to them that it was Bob's wishes, as well as Rob's, that not only should Rob's ashes be with his father, but that I could say goodbye to them both. This was, after all, my fiance who was being "buried" with his Dad, inside the casket.
They just didn't care. They didn't seem to care that they had insulted both their father and their brother.
Because quite frankly, Rob would have been utterly horrified and disgusted at this; to treat the woman he loved in such a callous manner? He would have felt so betrayed. This was Bob's final resting place, and both of them deserved to have a service of love and dignity.
And that's the really sad part.
(The sermon can be found here - it's a beautiful piece, and Jamie did a wonderful job)
Bob's funeral was beautiful; Karen had arranged a really nice casket, with a memory box containing pictures of Rob and his siblings, Bob with his doggies, Bob's granddaughter Abby...one of his watches...it was just a really touching and poignant part of Bob's final journey. Karen and I held onto each other pretty much the entire time; there were many tears and it brought back to me a lot of emotion and pain from Rob's funeral. In some ways it was a bit like burying him, too.
The interment, however, was another story entirely. Karen and I had got to the cemetery very early; it was both Karen's and Bob's wishes that Cindy simply did not attend the funeral so we didn't expect to see her there, as it seemed a bit of a no-brainer that she'd respect Karen & Bob's wishes. Frankly, I thought it was pretty great of Karen to "ok" Cindy's attendance to the main service (mentioned above) on Tuesday...Bob's wishes were known by everyone and there was no ambiguity - he just didn't want Cindy there to begin with, let alone during the smaller, more intimate interment ceremony on Thursday, but we were glad that Cindy got to say goodbye to Bob at the public service on Tuesday. Because Cindy and I had been close via email, I was very glad that she was able to be there for her kids and there was not - so I thought - any animosity between us.
And then....Rob's sister just ripped into me...she was so cruel, so incredibly rude, and so thoughtless. I can't even repeat here what she said; this journal is one of deep love and I'd feel quite weird sullying Rob's memory in that way. I understand she's angry, and probably feels an awful lot of guilt for never visiting Rob while he was sick, but still. Her words cut like a knife, and I was never given a chance to address anything that she said.
Anyway...it got a little worse; as it became clear that Cindy's presence wasn't really wanted at this smaller, intimate service, Rob's siblings decided to play "tit for tat" and stated that they had a problem with me attending the service itself. If Cindy couldn't attend, then I couldn't either. Poor Karen was devastated; not only was Cindy present (though by this point the priest and funeral director had pursuaded her to wait in the car outside), but Bob's two kids had effectively barred me from attending the service; Karen actually said "But Rob's ashes are in there too!..."...but that didn't matter. I wasn't married to Rob (as if that made a difference). So, rather than exacerbate an already horrific situation, I just told Karen that it was ok, that she should go inside and say goodbye to our boys, and that Rob was with me at home anyway. I was incredibly upset that I couldn't support Karen....this was about HER, and her loss, not a petty argument started by Bob's children, and I only wanted to be there for her, as she had been for me at Rob's funeral.
My heart broke. I sat in the car and just wailed, and sobbed and I felt completely crushed...they wouldn't let me bury my baby. It didn't seem to matter to them that it was Bob's wishes, as well as Rob's, that not only should Rob's ashes be with his father, but that I could say goodbye to them both. This was, after all, my fiance who was being "buried" with his Dad, inside the casket.
They just didn't care. They didn't seem to care that they had insulted both their father and their brother.
Because quite frankly, Rob would have been utterly horrified and disgusted at this; to treat the woman he loved in such a callous manner? He would have felt so betrayed. This was Bob's final resting place, and both of them deserved to have a service of love and dignity.
And that's the really sad part.
(The sermon can be found here - it's a beautiful piece, and Jamie did a wonderful job)
Monday, April 7, 2008
Bunnies and Bleachers - April 2, 2008
One of the most difficult things about this journey is acknowledging the things we'll no longer do together, the simple things...just like walking in the sunshine, arm in arm, meandering along, giggling together.
It's such a beautiful day outside, and it made me smile just to be outside, even though my heart stings knowing that I'll never again link my arm through yours as we cross the road. I'll always remember you grinning at my childish delight at seeing the first floppsy (that's a bunny to normal folk) of the year!
Remember when we lived in College Street? There they were. Three bunnies, sitting in a circle, studiously watching as the fourth, older rabbit hopped up and down on the spot! It was as if he was teaching them how to hop...and it was such a magical moment. It just warms my heart.
We used to walk from the apartment over to the football field and make out...just like a couple of teenagers, sitting wrapped around each other on the bleachers. I can still smell your hair, and feel the sun on my skin, sweetheart.
Then, we'd walk home and that little boxer down the street would just go nuts as we walked by...remember?
"HiHiHiLoveMeLoveMeWoofWoofLemmeLickYerHandPleaseBeMyFwendHiWoofWoofHiHiHi!"
You'd joke that the bunnies were teasing him, running back and forth past his fence knowing he couldn't jump over and get them. I think you were right, you know...
It's these things I'll never forget.
It's such a beautiful day outside, and it made me smile just to be outside, even though my heart stings knowing that I'll never again link my arm through yours as we cross the road. I'll always remember you grinning at my childish delight at seeing the first floppsy (that's a bunny to normal folk) of the year!
Remember when we lived in College Street? There they were. Three bunnies, sitting in a circle, studiously watching as the fourth, older rabbit hopped up and down on the spot! It was as if he was teaching them how to hop...and it was such a magical moment. It just warms my heart.
We used to walk from the apartment over to the football field and make out...just like a couple of teenagers, sitting wrapped around each other on the bleachers. I can still smell your hair, and feel the sun on my skin, sweetheart.
Then, we'd walk home and that little boxer down the street would just go nuts as we walked by...remember?
"HiHiHiLoveMeLoveMeWoofWoofLemmeLickYerHandPleaseBeMyFwendHiWoofWoofHiHiHi!"
You'd joke that the bunnies were teasing him, running back and forth past his fence knowing he couldn't jump over and get them. I think you were right, you know...
It's these things I'll never forget.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Just missing you and stuff.
It actually does help when I talk to you in the apartment. Sometimes though, I think I'm being too hard on myself in expecting too much, too soon. It's been a little over three months since you died, and I suppose I thought - hoped? - that some semblance of normalcy would have returned by now.
I'm not sure whether I'm still in the "acute" grief state, or if I'm actually clinically depressed at this point.
I need to refill the thyroid rx, which I realise isn't helping matters - being off them for just a couple of days really messes with the mood. Just hand't realised how much until now.
There are so many "us" things which I remember.
Deciding that when I was cooking meat, I wasn't actually cooking meat, but instead had acquired....Tofu, Lofu, Bofu and Pofu. (Lofu being "lamb flavoured tofu", so as not to upset the plush lambs we have, and Bofu being "beef flavoured tofu", so as not to upset the plush cows! Pofu, of course, was pork-flavoured (or bacon) tofu, so as not to upset Pigbit or any other porcine-type animals currently living with us!
The times we'd just lie in bed, just holding each other. Stroking each other's back, no words needing to be said other than those quietly murmured "I love you"s.
The kisses, the hugs. Giggling with you. Rolling our eyes in unison and play-screaming "Oh no, it's Kevin Trudeau!" when those bloody commercials came on Fox TV.
You sitting on the floor between my legs, resting your head on my thigh while I stroked your hair as we watched TV (or yet another viewing of "Clerks II" - I still can't get over how much we both loved that movie!).
Walking the "Mushaboom Highway". This being the "skyway" covered walkthrough running between the Civic Center and the rest of downtown Fargo. We called it that because "Mushaboom" (the title of a Feist song) seemed like the perfect verb to describe "meandering along at a somewhat slow, dawdling pace"...and it was just so "us".
The same reasoning went behind our desire to get one of those "Segway" thingies so we could "Mushaboom to Cashwise" to do the grocery shopping.
I miss walking up to the Salvation Army with you to get coffee.
I miss you stumbling out of the bedroom into the living room, not really awake, just to wave and say "hi", before stumbling back to bed.
I miss you.
I'm not sure whether I'm still in the "acute" grief state, or if I'm actually clinically depressed at this point.
I need to refill the thyroid rx, which I realise isn't helping matters - being off them for just a couple of days really messes with the mood. Just hand't realised how much until now.
There are so many "us" things which I remember.
Deciding that when I was cooking meat, I wasn't actually cooking meat, but instead had acquired....Tofu, Lofu, Bofu and Pofu. (Lofu being "lamb flavoured tofu", so as not to upset the plush lambs we have, and Bofu being "beef flavoured tofu", so as not to upset the plush cows! Pofu, of course, was pork-flavoured (or bacon) tofu, so as not to upset Pigbit or any other porcine-type animals currently living with us!
The times we'd just lie in bed, just holding each other. Stroking each other's back, no words needing to be said other than those quietly murmured "I love you"s.
The kisses, the hugs. Giggling with you. Rolling our eyes in unison and play-screaming "Oh no, it's Kevin Trudeau!" when those bloody commercials came on Fox TV.
You sitting on the floor between my legs, resting your head on my thigh while I stroked your hair as we watched TV (or yet another viewing of "Clerks II" - I still can't get over how much we both loved that movie!).
Walking the "Mushaboom Highway". This being the "skyway" covered walkthrough running between the Civic Center and the rest of downtown Fargo. We called it that because "Mushaboom" (the title of a Feist song) seemed like the perfect verb to describe "meandering along at a somewhat slow, dawdling pace"...and it was just so "us".
The same reasoning went behind our desire to get one of those "Segway" thingies so we could "Mushaboom to Cashwise" to do the grocery shopping.
I miss walking up to the Salvation Army with you to get coffee.
I miss you stumbling out of the bedroom into the living room, not really awake, just to wave and say "hi", before stumbling back to bed.
I miss you.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Just when I think I'm doing better, gradually starting to cope with things...it hits me like a sledgehammer.
There's never any rhyme or reason to it, and it seems the littlest things set me off. I didn't know I actually had that many tears inside me, but it was literally every half hour I'd just start sobbing.
Ok, I'm not even able to see the screen while I type.
I'll try again in awhile.
There's never any rhyme or reason to it, and it seems the littlest things set me off. I didn't know I actually had that many tears inside me, but it was literally every half hour I'd just start sobbing.
Ok, I'm not even able to see the screen while I type.
I'll try again in awhile.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
3 months.
Yesterday was 3 months since Rob died.
Oddly, it felt...weird. I have a pretty bad cold at the moment, and perhaps that's what made me feel somewhat numb and distracted.
The really painful part of the past few days was discovering that one of Rob's family members wrote a thinly-veiled accusation on his guest book, implying that I somehow was responsible for Rob's death; the family member in question is "suspicious".
This was apparently because on a different blog site (which I haven't been able to access since December), I'd written "Rob died in my arms....".
And later, when I'd spoken with family members, I'd said "He was cuddling into me, and I woke up feeling dampness on my arm".
I'm not sure how these two things are contradictory, but that's how it was perceived..though I was told by Rob's mom that what I said had been remembered as "My BACK was damp..." as opposed to my arm, meaning that I was lying about him being in my arms at all. Actually, when I typed that bit, it just seemed ridiculous. Even if it were true, it's such a trivial difference that it would be funny if it weren't so hurtful.
I was initially very, very angry - all I'm guilty of is loving and caring for this wonderful man who was taken from us far, far too soon. Did I perhaps give different "theories" as to how he died? Probably! None of us will ever know for sure what actually led up to the event itself. My own memories of that night and early morning are hazy.
There was no autopsy performed; his cause of death was listed as "Complications from congestive heart failure" (or words to that effect). Frankly, I would have liked the autopsy to have taken place because I had so many question, and the death was so very sudden. But as I wasn't legally next of kin, that wasn't my decision to make. And of course, I have nothing but respect and support for the person who did have to make such a dreadful decision after losing Rob like that.
Needless to say, I do understand that the person in question is hurting, very badly. And I understand that there's probably a lot of guilt from not visiting Rob during or after his surgeries; but that doesn't make it OK to point a finger in my direction based on such a bizarre assumption.
All I know is, I miss my Wombat.
Sigh.
Oddly, it felt...weird. I have a pretty bad cold at the moment, and perhaps that's what made me feel somewhat numb and distracted.
The really painful part of the past few days was discovering that one of Rob's family members wrote a thinly-veiled accusation on his guest book, implying that I somehow was responsible for Rob's death; the family member in question is "suspicious".
This was apparently because on a different blog site (which I haven't been able to access since December), I'd written "Rob died in my arms....".
And later, when I'd spoken with family members, I'd said "He was cuddling into me, and I woke up feeling dampness on my arm".
I'm not sure how these two things are contradictory, but that's how it was perceived..though I was told by Rob's mom that what I said had been remembered as "My BACK was damp..." as opposed to my arm, meaning that I was lying about him being in my arms at all. Actually, when I typed that bit, it just seemed ridiculous. Even if it were true, it's such a trivial difference that it would be funny if it weren't so hurtful.
I was initially very, very angry - all I'm guilty of is loving and caring for this wonderful man who was taken from us far, far too soon. Did I perhaps give different "theories" as to how he died? Probably! None of us will ever know for sure what actually led up to the event itself. My own memories of that night and early morning are hazy.
There was no autopsy performed; his cause of death was listed as "Complications from congestive heart failure" (or words to that effect). Frankly, I would have liked the autopsy to have taken place because I had so many question, and the death was so very sudden. But as I wasn't legally next of kin, that wasn't my decision to make. And of course, I have nothing but respect and support for the person who did have to make such a dreadful decision after losing Rob like that.
Needless to say, I do understand that the person in question is hurting, very badly. And I understand that there's probably a lot of guilt from not visiting Rob during or after his surgeries; but that doesn't make it OK to point a finger in my direction based on such a bizarre assumption.
All I know is, I miss my Wombat.
Sigh.
Friday, March 21, 2008
21 March, 2008. Spring?
I did get to speak with Rob's primary care physician. As I'd expected, there are of course no definitive answers to how and why he died when he did. It could have been...
Low blood sugar from which he couldn't rouse
Stroke
Another MI
Cardiac arrest which couldn't be rectified by the defibrillator
Aspiration of fluids
PE (pulmonary embolism)
Any, none or several of the above.
I checked his BG meter last night actually, from the last few hours before he died.
11:32 pm 87
12:04 am 68
12:44 am 95
1:05 am 126
Now...this might at first glance appear to be "within normal". For Rob though, 68 has produced unconsciousness (and, in fact, respiratory arrest on more than one occasion). If he had eaten a cookie or something to get it back up to 126, and then went to bed...it would have fallen again shortly thereafter.
Rob went to bed around 12:45, I think. I'm not entirely sure whether the last reading was taken by him, or by me as I was calling the paramedics.
Sigh.
None of this really means anything, in some ways; he's still gone, I still scream from excruciating emotional pain, I still cry every night, and I still miss him terribly.
One thing his doctor did say though, was that Rob made certain choices. He chose to smoke (up until his MI at least), and he chose to not follow a low sodium, low-fat diet. These did contribute to his illness, but it was admittedly a little strange hearing someone not emotionally invested in the situation actually saying, basically, "Look - some of this was his own doing, too, you know...".
I suppose it was to help assuage any guilt I was feeling.
Hmmm.
Low blood sugar from which he couldn't rouse
Stroke
Another MI
Cardiac arrest which couldn't be rectified by the defibrillator
Aspiration of fluids
PE (pulmonary embolism)
Any, none or several of the above.
I checked his BG meter last night actually, from the last few hours before he died.
11:32 pm 87
12:04 am 68
12:44 am 95
1:05 am 126
Now...this might at first glance appear to be "within normal". For Rob though, 68 has produced unconsciousness (and, in fact, respiratory arrest on more than one occasion). If he had eaten a cookie or something to get it back up to 126, and then went to bed...it would have fallen again shortly thereafter.
Rob went to bed around 12:45, I think. I'm not entirely sure whether the last reading was taken by him, or by me as I was calling the paramedics.
Sigh.
None of this really means anything, in some ways; he's still gone, I still scream from excruciating emotional pain, I still cry every night, and I still miss him terribly.
One thing his doctor did say though, was that Rob made certain choices. He chose to smoke (up until his MI at least), and he chose to not follow a low sodium, low-fat diet. These did contribute to his illness, but it was admittedly a little strange hearing someone not emotionally invested in the situation actually saying, basically, "Look - some of this was his own doing, too, you know...".
I suppose it was to help assuage any guilt I was feeling.
Hmmm.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
3 March, 2008. Prevention being the mother of...invention?
I'm going to be speaking with one of Rob's doctors this week, as I still have questions.
I'm fairly certain that these questions don't actually have definitive answers, but at least if I ask, I'll know that I've asked. You know?
It makes me think about health care, too, in this country. I realise that over here, it's considered uneconomical to provide what we generally term "preventative health care" in any meaningful capacity, but at which point does expense start to override the obviously economically smarter decision to prevent a disease?
Rob had type 1 diabetes, hypertension, renal disease and a very strong family history of heart disease. And, he smoked. He was, perhaps, the poster child for heart disease. Only one of these factors was directly preventable - we both knew that his smoking wasn't doing him any good. Having said that, would an angiogram two years ago have prevented the tragic outcome? At his age - 31 - would it have even been considered?
An angiogram here costs $2100. Cost is obviously a factor in deciding whether or not to proceed with any kind of diagnostic testing, but where do we draw the line?
Rob's eventual medical care (CABG x 3, pacemaker & defib. insertion, associated hospital stays etc) came to over $120k. If he had had an angiogram perhaps two years ago, it would have certainly showed blockages in his left and right coronary arteries (both were 100% blocked at the time of his diagnosis). Could we then have taken steps to prevent last January's massive anterior MI?
Doesn't a $2100 test trump $120,000? Isn't it more cost-effective to prevent a condition, than to treat it once it is manifest?
I'm still thinking about all of this, given the situation, the current health care mess in this country, and the upcoming election.
I'm fairly certain that these questions don't actually have definitive answers, but at least if I ask, I'll know that I've asked. You know?
It makes me think about health care, too, in this country. I realise that over here, it's considered uneconomical to provide what we generally term "preventative health care" in any meaningful capacity, but at which point does expense start to override the obviously economically smarter decision to prevent a disease?
Rob had type 1 diabetes, hypertension, renal disease and a very strong family history of heart disease. And, he smoked. He was, perhaps, the poster child for heart disease. Only one of these factors was directly preventable - we both knew that his smoking wasn't doing him any good. Having said that, would an angiogram two years ago have prevented the tragic outcome? At his age - 31 - would it have even been considered?
An angiogram here costs $2100. Cost is obviously a factor in deciding whether or not to proceed with any kind of diagnostic testing, but where do we draw the line?
Rob's eventual medical care (CABG x 3, pacemaker & defib. insertion, associated hospital stays etc) came to over $120k. If he had had an angiogram perhaps two years ago, it would have certainly showed blockages in his left and right coronary arteries (both were 100% blocked at the time of his diagnosis). Could we then have taken steps to prevent last January's massive anterior MI?
Doesn't a $2100 test trump $120,000? Isn't it more cost-effective to prevent a condition, than to treat it once it is manifest?
I'm still thinking about all of this, given the situation, the current health care mess in this country, and the upcoming election.
28 Feb, 2008. Wherein ashes are scattered.
At about 5pm on the 25th - two months to the day since Rob died - I walked down to the river. It's about a block away, and we used to take frequent walks there.
I'd changed into a really pretty - if somewhat flimsy and completely inappropriate for the weather - skirt, one of Rob's favourites, and though actually getting down to the river itself was a tad treacherous (I'm 5ft tall, the snow is still two feet deep there - you get the picture!), I made it.
I'd written this down, and then I read it aloud. I spoke to Rob...I told him how much I loved and missed him, and even managed to crack a joke. Then....as I said these words, I scattered some of his ashes into the snow. The river just looked so beautiful, so serene....the trees were like a protective canopy, sheltering me from the worst of the wind. It was very peaceful, and very calming.
Now I have lost you, I must scatter
Some of you on the air henceforth;
Not that to me it can ever matter
But it's only fair to the rest of the earth.
Now especially, when it's winter
And the sun's not half as bright as it was,
Who wouldn't be glad to find a splinter
That was once you, in the frozen grass?
Snowflakes, too, will be softer feathered,
Clouds, perhaps, will be whiter plumed;
Rain, whose brilliance you caught and gathered,
Purer silver have resumed.
Farewell, sweet dust; I never was a miser
Once for a minute I made you mine:
Now you are gone, I am none the wiser,
But the leaves of the willow are as bright as wine.
Elinor Wylie 1885-1928
I'd changed into a really pretty - if somewhat flimsy and completely inappropriate for the weather - skirt, one of Rob's favourites, and though actually getting down to the river itself was a tad treacherous (I'm 5ft tall, the snow is still two feet deep there - you get the picture!), I made it.
I'd written this down, and then I read it aloud. I spoke to Rob...I told him how much I loved and missed him, and even managed to crack a joke. Then....as I said these words, I scattered some of his ashes into the snow. The river just looked so beautiful, so serene....the trees were like a protective canopy, sheltering me from the worst of the wind. It was very peaceful, and very calming.
Now I have lost you, I must scatter
Some of you on the air henceforth;
Not that to me it can ever matter
But it's only fair to the rest of the earth.
Now especially, when it's winter
And the sun's not half as bright as it was,
Who wouldn't be glad to find a splinter
That was once you, in the frozen grass?
Snowflakes, too, will be softer feathered,
Clouds, perhaps, will be whiter plumed;
Rain, whose brilliance you caught and gathered,
Purer silver have resumed.
Farewell, sweet dust; I never was a miser
Once for a minute I made you mine:
Now you are gone, I am none the wiser,
But the leaves of the willow are as bright as wine.
Elinor Wylie 1885-1928
25 Feb, 2008. "The Day My Eyelids Had Boobjobs". (c)
Grieving is a very physical process. You learn the literal meaning of the word "heart-ache" - this deep, sternal ache that simply sits on your chest and feels like it will never leave.
You will cry. At first, my tears were virtually constant - a good portion of every hour was spent sobbing, wailing or just letting tears quietly dance down my cheeks. This is actually good though, because it allows you to really "let go", as it were - if that's what you need to do. Not everyone does.
But for those of us who do (especially us women), we come up with another problem...
Where on earth do you put mascara, onto eyes which are no longer makeup-friendly?
You see, I've always worn (at the very least) a coat of mascara. Usually eyeliner, too, and depending on the mood/time of day/moon phase/what's on TV, eyeshadow may or not also be present.
This leaves a problem, because when you've cried that much, something odd and quite disturbing happens. Your eyelids are swollen (think....really bad allergy, multiplied by a few rounds with Mike Tyson), and the delicate skin turns an alarming shade of...well, let me put it another way:
Luminous pink breast implants arrive from outer space, kidnap your eyelids and proceed to sit on your cheeks until further notice.
Sort of like this:
This phase does pass....at least, that's what I'm told. Until then, leave the mascara at home - it just can't compete with Luminous Pink Boobeye-lids!
You will cry. At first, my tears were virtually constant - a good portion of every hour was spent sobbing, wailing or just letting tears quietly dance down my cheeks. This is actually good though, because it allows you to really "let go", as it were - if that's what you need to do. Not everyone does.
But for those of us who do (especially us women), we come up with another problem...
Where on earth do you put mascara, onto eyes which are no longer makeup-friendly?
You see, I've always worn (at the very least) a coat of mascara. Usually eyeliner, too, and depending on the mood/time of day/moon phase/what's on TV, eyeshadow may or not also be present.
This leaves a problem, because when you've cried that much, something odd and quite disturbing happens. Your eyelids are swollen (think....really bad allergy, multiplied by a few rounds with Mike Tyson), and the delicate skin turns an alarming shade of...well, let me put it another way:
Luminous pink breast implants arrive from outer space, kidnap your eyelids and proceed to sit on your cheeks until further notice.
Sort of like this:
This phase does pass....at least, that's what I'm told. Until then, leave the mascara at home - it just can't compete with Luminous Pink Boobeye-lids!
(The hair, obviously, has fallen out some since your loss - this is also natural, apparently)
(The red Froot Loops masquerading as nostrils are from the same planet as the Alien Breast Implants, and are part of the same "anti-aesthetic conspiracy")
(The red Froot Loops masquerading as nostrils are from the same planet as the Alien Breast Implants, and are part of the same "anti-aesthetic conspiracy")
***********************************************************
Speaking of....
There is something of a taboo in our culture, about how we speak about our dead. Many of us feel a bit odd - if not downright disloyal - when we mention the not-so-good parts of our loved ones, and we feel utterly treacherous if we speak about their faults to strangers.
But why?
To speak about our loved ones in a less-than-saintly manner is normal - if not essential to our grieving journey. S/he knew that nobody was or is perfect...themselves included. Honestly? I think it actually does their memory a disservice if we ignore their less-than-perfect sides.
It's ok that your loved one pissed you off. It's absolutely fine that you screamed at each other on occasion, or that there were days where you just didn't like 'em too much. It's ok that his smelly farts/aversion to cutting her toenails/weird chest-hair patterns skeeved you from time to time. It's ok to talk about these things, too. Because by acknowledging these - very human - faults, you have absolute and irrefutable evidence that you loved this person, the good and the bad, completely whole-heartedly and accepted him/her for who he was. S/he was NOT a magazine cut-out! They were a real human being, not a saint.
Speaking of....
There is something of a taboo in our culture, about how we speak about our dead. Many of us feel a bit odd - if not downright disloyal - when we mention the not-so-good parts of our loved ones, and we feel utterly treacherous if we speak about their faults to strangers.
But why?
To speak about our loved ones in a less-than-saintly manner is normal - if not essential to our grieving journey. S/he knew that nobody was or is perfect...themselves included. Honestly? I think it actually does their memory a disservice if we ignore their less-than-perfect sides.
It's ok that your loved one pissed you off. It's absolutely fine that you screamed at each other on occasion, or that there were days where you just didn't like 'em too much. It's ok that his smelly farts/aversion to cutting her toenails/weird chest-hair patterns skeeved you from time to time. It's ok to talk about these things, too. Because by acknowledging these - very human - faults, you have absolute and irrefutable evidence that you loved this person, the good and the bad, completely whole-heartedly and accepted him/her for who he was. S/he was NOT a magazine cut-out! They were a real human being, not a saint.
And that's a priceless thing to know.
It's a gift to your loved one that is beyond measure.
It's a gift to your loved one that is beyond measure.
22 Feb, 2008
'm sorry, but I love talking about Rob.
(You can tell who had an appointment with the bereavement counsellor, can't you? ;) )
I love talking about what he liked, disliked, how he was, the memories we had together, and all of the things you'd expect. But I've recently been made aware that I talk about him too much (online).
Frankly, I hadn't thought such a thing would be possible, given the circumstances. My initial thought was "oh for crying out loud, shut the feck up. Don't *read* it if you're "sick of the unhealthy way" I constantly refer to Rob. Then it made me wonder...exactly what does "talking about someone too much" constitute?
Is one reference in a paragraph ok? Does two push it over to "unacceptable"?
Hrmph.
I'm going to get more coffee.
(Before I start talking about Pigbit - who is part pig, part rabbit, and one of my favourite "childrens" - MooMoo (a big green and white cow), Lil Mr White Fluffalo (look, we live in North Dakota. Lotsa buffalo. LMWF is a little, white buffalo...) and Lil Mr Brown Fluffalo (shockingly enough, LMBF is like LMWF, but brown, originality not being my strongest point!).
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Does anyone have any drawing capability? I'm trying to find someone who can draw something for me.... a cartoon-ish woman with wild hair, with what would appear to be luminous pink breast implants instead of eyelids. There IS method behind this madness, I promise....
(You can tell who had an appointment with the bereavement counsellor, can't you? ;) )
I love talking about what he liked, disliked, how he was, the memories we had together, and all of the things you'd expect. But I've recently been made aware that I talk about him too much (online).
Frankly, I hadn't thought such a thing would be possible, given the circumstances. My initial thought was "oh for crying out loud, shut the feck up. Don't *read* it if you're "sick of the unhealthy way" I constantly refer to Rob. Then it made me wonder...exactly what does "talking about someone too much" constitute?
Is one reference in a paragraph ok? Does two push it over to "unacceptable"?
Hrmph.
I'm going to get more coffee.
(Before I start talking about Pigbit - who is part pig, part rabbit, and one of my favourite "childrens" - MooMoo (a big green and white cow), Lil Mr White Fluffalo (look, we live in North Dakota. Lotsa buffalo. LMWF is a little, white buffalo...) and Lil Mr Brown Fluffalo (shockingly enough, LMBF is like LMWF, but brown, originality not being my strongest point!).
**************
Does anyone have any drawing capability? I'm trying to find someone who can draw something for me.... a cartoon-ish woman with wild hair, with what would appear to be luminous pink breast implants instead of eyelids. There IS method behind this madness, I promise....
14 Feb, 2008.....And this is why widows hate Valentine's Day.
Not having a good day, so I figured journalling might help.
I wonder if it's "normal" (whatever that means) for a person to feel especially sad during bad weather?
I keep moving Rob's photo back and forth between the box of ashes (on the chessboard, which is behind where I usually sit) and that little spot in front of the TV. Sometimes looking at it is just too, too painful...and other times it comforts me.
Should I be concerned that I find myself wanting to cry? Am I becoming too dependant upon crying being a form of release?
It's so weird.
I think of Mariane Pearl, and another young woman I know (who might not want her privacy compromised, so I'm not going to name her) who lost their loved ones in sudden and truly horrifying circumstances.....and I do count myself lucky (probably not the best word in the world to use) that at least I knew Rob had an essentially terminal illness. On some level I even knew that I'd lose him. I just didn't realise how soon it would be; his death was still sudden (unexpected) even though he was very sick.
People have said to me, "Aw at least you knew he was sick....and he's not suffering anymore". Both very true statements...but it sometimes leaves me feeling guilty for the sheer level of despair I'm experiencing, in a sort of "Oh come on, you knew it would happen, it should be easier for you to get past this..many widows have it much worse than you". Maybe that doesn't make sense. I know what I mean though.
Oh for heaven's sake, I just figured out why it feels worse today. It's friggin "Hallmark Holiday Horribilis" Day.
Well, now at least I have something to blame!
(Another thing. Never, ever say to the newly bereaved, "At least you don't have to buy any Valentine's Day stuff...". Yes, it might seem like a good idea to use humour, but for the love of all things wholesome and chocolatey, if you're ever tempted to say this, SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH. Mkay? Mkay)
I wonder if it's "normal" (whatever that means) for a person to feel especially sad during bad weather?
I keep moving Rob's photo back and forth between the box of ashes (on the chessboard, which is behind where I usually sit) and that little spot in front of the TV. Sometimes looking at it is just too, too painful...and other times it comforts me.
Should I be concerned that I find myself wanting to cry? Am I becoming too dependant upon crying being a form of release?
It's so weird.
I think of Mariane Pearl, and another young woman I know (who might not want her privacy compromised, so I'm not going to name her) who lost their loved ones in sudden and truly horrifying circumstances.....and I do count myself lucky (probably not the best word in the world to use) that at least I knew Rob had an essentially terminal illness. On some level I even knew that I'd lose him. I just didn't realise how soon it would be; his death was still sudden (unexpected) even though he was very sick.
People have said to me, "Aw at least you knew he was sick....and he's not suffering anymore". Both very true statements...but it sometimes leaves me feeling guilty for the sheer level of despair I'm experiencing, in a sort of "Oh come on, you knew it would happen, it should be easier for you to get past this..many widows have it much worse than you". Maybe that doesn't make sense. I know what I mean though.
Oh for heaven's sake, I just figured out why it feels worse today. It's friggin "Hallmark Holiday Horribilis" Day.
Well, now at least I have something to blame!
(Another thing. Never, ever say to the newly bereaved, "At least you don't have to buy any Valentine's Day stuff...". Yes, it might seem like a good idea to use humour, but for the love of all things wholesome and chocolatey, if you're ever tempted to say this, SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH. Mkay? Mkay)
13 Feb, 2008. Let there be light...bulbs
DIL came over yesterday afternoon. It was really nice to see him, moreso since he came complete with a pack of lightbulbs to fix the "lack of light" situation.
Ideally I'd like to see more of them, but t'is what t'is. They've actually taken pretty great care of me since Rob died.
I updated Rob's Caring Bridge site
yesterday too. For some reason I hadn't been in awhile - possibly because Caring Bridge tends to be aimed at illness and recovery versus illness and sudden death - and I had a serious bout of crying when I did hop online, because both his Mom and his Dad had left really heart-breaking messages in the guest book. It's still very, very difficult, folks. Yesterday was seven weeks since he died. I haven't actually had one day when I haven't cried, which I'm told is perfectly normal and won't change for awhile yet. I'm ok with that though, oddly enough. Crying does release a lot of pent-up emotion - sadness, longing, loneliness - and yes, I still "talk" to Rob every day. But holy shit, I miss him. I've never felt pain like this in my life.
(sidebar: If I ever hear Rob talking back, then it's agreed that I need some help....! )
One of the more interesting things I've found is that many people just don't know what to say to a bereaved young woman. Some folk - with the absolute sweetest, kindest intentions - seem to feel like they can't discuss their own lovelives, children, goings-on etc, in case it hurts my feelings. To anyone with this concern, I'd just like to say - NO! Please, tell me! I LOVE to hear about your world !!! It's very calming, and a source of joy to know that life, and love, and the foibles of daily living, are still going on. Hearing about your lives simply confirms that it is indeed possible for me to once again experience love and happiness.
Cos life does go on, doesn't it?
Had labs done again today, too, at disgusting o'clock this morning. Also made an appt with Carrie, my bereavement counseler, for Monday afternoon. Got to make Doc's appt for Friday, too - to get lab results back (cholesterol, liver function, thyroid - woot!) and to get a referral (if such is possible for a no-income patient!) to a pain clinic. I've had back problems in the past, and when Rob actually died I injured my back the same night (in addition to the existing issues).
So, pain has increased despite McKenzie therapy. Neurontin has helped in the past, but I'm now wondering if a muscle relaxer (Flexeril?) might be better. Or both? Either way, I need to get some sleep, too. Insomnia is NOT your friend, and even less so when you're grieving. That and I gotta pick up my thyroid meds. All I can say is - thank Whoever Is Doing Stuff And Needs To Be Thanked (which could be... God, Buddha, Allah, the FDA, Pfizer, whoever) for being able to supply low- and no-income patients with free medication.
Cos that'll actually help me get back to work!
I really ramble once I get going...
Ideally I'd like to see more of them, but t'is what t'is. They've actually taken pretty great care of me since Rob died.
I updated Rob's Caring Bridge site
yesterday too. For some reason I hadn't been in awhile - possibly because Caring Bridge tends to be aimed at illness and recovery versus illness and sudden death - and I had a serious bout of crying when I did hop online, because both his Mom and his Dad had left really heart-breaking messages in the guest book. It's still very, very difficult, folks. Yesterday was seven weeks since he died. I haven't actually had one day when I haven't cried, which I'm told is perfectly normal and won't change for awhile yet. I'm ok with that though, oddly enough. Crying does release a lot of pent-up emotion - sadness, longing, loneliness - and yes, I still "talk" to Rob every day. But holy shit, I miss him. I've never felt pain like this in my life.(sidebar: If I ever hear Rob talking back, then it's agreed that I need some help....! )
One of the more interesting things I've found is that many people just don't know what to say to a bereaved young woman. Some folk - with the absolute sweetest, kindest intentions - seem to feel like they can't discuss their own lovelives, children, goings-on etc, in case it hurts my feelings. To anyone with this concern, I'd just like to say - NO! Please, tell me! I LOVE to hear about your world !!! It's very calming, and a source of joy to know that life, and love, and the foibles of daily living, are still going on. Hearing about your lives simply confirms that it is indeed possible for me to once again experience love and happiness.
Cos life does go on, doesn't it?
Had labs done again today, too, at disgusting o'clock this morning. Also made an appt with Carrie, my bereavement counseler, for Monday afternoon. Got to make Doc's appt for Friday, too - to get lab results back (cholesterol, liver function, thyroid - woot!) and to get a referral (if such is possible for a no-income patient!) to a pain clinic. I've had back problems in the past, and when Rob actually died I injured my back the same night (in addition to the existing issues).
So, pain has increased despite McKenzie therapy
. Neurontin has helped in the past, but I'm now wondering if a muscle relaxer (Flexeril?) might be better. Or both? Either way, I need to get some sleep, too. Insomnia is NOT your friend, and even less so when you're grieving. That and I gotta pick up my thyroid meds. All I can say is - thank Whoever Is Doing Stuff And Needs To Be Thanked (which could be... God, Buddha, Allah, the FDA, Pfizer, whoever) for being able to supply low- and no-income patients with free medication.Cos that'll actually help me get back to work!
I really ramble once I get going...
30 Jan, 2008. More ashes.
It's really weird sometimes, going through this kind of bereavement. Some days are relatively normal, you know? Though there's extreme sadness, there's also the ability to smile, and to laugh. Then you can have a day that's so excrutiatingly painful that you're in tears for a good portion of every hour. And I mean every hour.
Since Rob died, I've had bad days, average days and even a few good days. Sometimes though, it seems as if the pain will get worse before it gets better, and that's a phenomenon that's hard for me to comprehend. Logically, you'd think that it would get better over time (having said that, it's only been five weeks, and that's a very short period of time - even though it feels like several eternities). Instead though, the pain seems more acute now than it was initially. I suppose that's because of being numb with shock when he actually died?
I'm reading "Grieving Mindfully" , loaned to me by a therapist at the hospital. I couldn't open the darn book for a few weeks, as it seemed to be saying "be mindful and you can feel better". Ah, if only it were that easy! It's a tad difficult to be mindful when you're that raw! However, I realize now that I'm actually angry and frustrated, and was aiming those feelings at the most convenient subject - the book. So, after opening it and reading it cover to cover twice (we're on a third run at the moment), it does contain an awful lot of common sense and good advice. It does help.
There have been (many) days when I just want to fast-forward a good six months, a year perhaps, just to get over this initial pain. But, as I keep discovering, that wouldn't help me in the long run - I'd simply be avoiding or running away from the feelings and they'd just hit me all the more when I stopped running. I've got another appointment with my grief counsellor too - and that also helps a great deal.
On a somewhat lighter note (because there's only so many tears I can shed at the hospital business centre without attracting a lot of attention....), I have absolutely no idea what to do with Rob's ashes. I did the stupid thing, of course....that being, I opened the box and looked at the two (previously mentioned) Ziploc baggies. Then, in a fit of stupidity that defies logic, I actually took out the baggies and held 'em in my hands. Man, it really does hit you f'cking hard. Needless to say I only did that the once. And needless to say, I really do NOT recommend such an action! Anyway, I'm really not sure what to do with the box, so I went online and had a peek around to get some ideas.
Oh. My. God.
I can make Rob into a necklace here
Or buy one of these (somewhat tacky) velvet thingies here
Or perhaps have 'em made into a fireworks display here
Or even make an underwater reef!
Then there's the balloon option - but Rob was afraid of flying, so we'll nix this one right now
Spaceflight is somewhat more unique, but the fear of flying thing also applies...I think....
Of course, I could just let him sit where he's sitting right now (in the middle of our chess board, which is oddly fitting for a number of reasons!).
I've got another few journal entries in my head, but I need to go get some coffee.
Since Rob died, I've had bad days, average days and even a few good days. Sometimes though, it seems as if the pain will get worse before it gets better, and that's a phenomenon that's hard for me to comprehend. Logically, you'd think that it would get better over time (having said that, it's only been five weeks, and that's a very short period of time - even though it feels like several eternities). Instead though, the pain seems more acute now than it was initially. I suppose that's because of being numb with shock when he actually died?
I'm reading "Grieving Mindfully"
, loaned to me by a therapist at the hospital. I couldn't open the darn book for a few weeks, as it seemed to be saying "be mindful and you can feel better". Ah, if only it were that easy! It's a tad difficult to be mindful when you're that raw! However, I realize now that I'm actually angry and frustrated, and was aiming those feelings at the most convenient subject - the book. So, after opening it and reading it cover to cover twice (we're on a third run at the moment), it does contain an awful lot of common sense and good advice. It does help.There have been (many) days when I just want to fast-forward a good six months, a year perhaps, just to get over this initial pain. But, as I keep discovering, that wouldn't help me in the long run - I'd simply be avoiding or running away from the feelings and they'd just hit me all the more when I stopped running. I've got another appointment with my grief counsellor too - and that also helps a great deal.
On a somewhat lighter note (because there's only so many tears I can shed at the hospital business centre without attracting a lot of attention....), I have absolutely no idea what to do with Rob's ashes. I did the stupid thing, of course....that being, I opened the box and looked at the two (previously mentioned) Ziploc baggies. Then, in a fit of stupidity that defies logic, I actually took out the baggies and held 'em in my hands. Man, it really does hit you f'cking hard. Needless to say I only did that the once. And needless to say, I really do NOT recommend such an action! Anyway, I'm really not sure what to do with the box, so I went online and had a peek around to get some ideas.
Oh. My. God.
I can make Rob into a necklace here
Or buy one of these (somewhat tacky) velvet thingies here
Or perhaps have 'em made into a fireworks display here
Or even make an underwater reef!
Then there's the balloon option - but Rob was afraid of flying, so we'll nix this one right now
Spaceflight is somewhat more unique, but the fear of flying thing also applies...I think....
Of course, I could just let him sit where he's sitting right now (in the middle of our chess board, which is oddly fitting for a number of reasons!).
I've got another few journal entries in my head, but I need to go get some coffee.
25 Jan, 2008 - Ashes
When given box containing beloved's ashes, do not open the box.
No, it's not as if he scattered all over the carpet, but he's in two ziploc baggies!
(The only thing I've ever seen those baggies used for is for containing a certain aromatic - if illegal - herb. Ahem.)
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No, it's not as if he scattered all over the carpet, but he's in two ziploc baggies!
(The only thing I've ever seen those baggies used for is for containing a certain aromatic - if illegal - herb. Ahem.)
****************************************
Yesterday was quite odd really. Because it was Rob's birthday, I had many more little ups and downs than perhaps the previous few days. I've discovered though that I seem to have two types of grief. The first, the acute grief, is what you'd imagine. Physically agonising, mentally overwhelming, almost unbearable. It leaves you wondering how on earth anyone gets through this process and you often feel like you just just cannot and will not ever survive. You learn the literal meaning of the word "heartache".
The second though is more subtle. It's the one that lets you remember both the good and bad parts of your relationship, and the good and bad sides of the person you've lost, and you can even do this sometimes without being (overly....) judgemental. It's the grief that lets you cry and actually feel a little better afterwards, and the grief that allows you to imagine a future - albeit a radically different future - than you'd imagined or planned.
In those times of the more subtle form of grief, I'm even relatively sane. Even if I did get stood up by my grief counsellor this morning! (Ok, she was sick , she has an excuse. Hrmph)
****************************************
I actually found myself agreeing with Elisabeth Hasselback on The View this morning. I can't remember what I was agreeing with, but I remember thinking "Oh shoot me now...I'm agreeing with Elisabeth....."
Maybe I need to pick up those psych meds ;)
24 Jan, 2008. Happy Birthday.
Happy 32nd birthday, Wombat.
Loveyamor'nanythingevenchocolateandcurryandfloppsies.
But you knew that anyway. *smile*
Loveyamor'nanythingevenchocolateandcurry
But you knew that anyway. *smile*
22 Jan, 2008. Sue happy?
You post one - one! - innocent inquiry on a message board, being naive enough to include an email address and WHAM you are literally bombarded with eleventythirtytwelvezillion offers of representation for your "upcoming/potential medical malpractice suit"!
I mean shit.
Today is four weeks since Rob died...goddammit, that's a hard word to type. I've never been one for euphemisms, but "passed" seems much easier for me to deal with at the moment. Anyway, it's looking more and more like the Toradol was indeed the aggravating factor in the event(s) leading up to Rob's death; basically he should never have been given the drug at all. It did lead to acute renal failure, but as he had comorbidities (a horrible, horrible term if there was ever a horrible term to end all horrible terms), and there was no autopsy (a thing about which I'm still confused even to this day*), it seems to be a case of "we'll never know for sure".
The irony here - or one of 'em at least - is that we'd planned for me to become a paralegal (if not go on to law school) at some point in the future, perhaps when my own health issues had been resolved, and that my least favourite specialty was personal injury law. In particular, those cases which specialized in suing drug companies for injuries relating to known side-effects, etc etc etc....
And now here we are.
Oh, the irony!
I mean shit.
Today is four weeks since Rob died...goddammit, that's a hard word to type. I've never been one for euphemisms, but "passed" seems much easier for me to deal with at the moment. Anyway, it's looking more and more like the Toradol was indeed the aggravating factor in the event(s) leading up to Rob's death; basically he should never have been given the drug at all. It did lead to acute renal failure, but as he had comorbidities (a horrible, horrible term if there was ever a horrible term to end all horrible terms), and there was no autopsy (a thing about which I'm still confused even to this day*), it seems to be a case of "we'll never know for sure".
The irony here - or one of 'em at least - is that we'd planned for me to become a paralegal (if not go on to law school) at some point in the future, perhaps when my own health issues had been resolved, and that my least favourite specialty was personal injury law. In particular, those cases which specialized in suing drug companies for injuries relating to known side-effects, etc etc etc....
And now here we are.
Oh, the irony!
17 Jan, 2008. Depressing.
I can't remember who wrote this, but....
"Grief is loss IN love" (as opposed to loss OF love).
and this....
"Love is the fuel of grief".
Truer words were never spoken.
*****************************************************************************************
I still have questions.
Well, one, really. First, I need to get this out and on paper or something, so here we go. Please bear in mind that my memory of that night is hazy at best. Some details and exact times might not be the most accurate in the world, but this is how I remember it:
Rob was discharged from the hospital on Saturday, Dec 21. He left with some pain meds (Lortab) and some Xanax, and was in a lot of pain. Prior to this, he'd been given Toradol ( a super NSAID painkiller, basically) soon after he'd had the surgery....and you're not meant to give Toradol to kidney patients (it caused fluid and sodium retention and messes with the electrolytes). His potassium went through the roof - 8.1 - and they had to flush him to get it back down. Rob was NOT impressed! (He bitched about this for quite a while...). The doctor actually said "Oops" when he realised what had caused the potassium increase.....and as we all know, "Oops" is a four letter word you never, ever want to hear from a doctor!!!!
We got him home, and settled, but on Sunday he'd started to gain fluid in his legs again. His thighs, calves and ankles were very swollen, and he was coughing a bit, too, but not as much as previously. This has happened before, and we just increased his Lasix. On Monday morning he'd lost several pounds worth of fluid, and was feeling a little better, though still in considerable pain.
On Monday evening he took some pain meds - I'm not sure how many - and some Xanax (probably one or two more than was prescribed). I'd gone to bed around 11:45 pm or so, and he followed about an hour later.
He snuggled into me, and I had my arm around him.
A little later, I woke up, feeling dampness on my arm. I figured, because he's diabetic, he'd gone really low again - which always led to severe clamminess - and moved to help shift him into a sitting position.
That's when vomit-like liquid poured out of his nose and mouth. I also noticed - and blocked it out - that he was cold, too.
He wasn't responding to me. I called 911, and was asked "Can you perform CPR?".
Tess: "I'd love to...but I can't get his mouth open....his teeth are clenched!". I held Rob's head in my arms, crying.
The paramedic who first came in knew us both by name. He went into the bedroom - the police had also come, and advised me to stay in the living room - and came out again, saying "Tess, he's been down awhile...do you still want us to try and resuscitate him?".
Rob and I both had listed "no heroic measures" on our living wills....but dammit, I told that Paramedic to get back there and try and bring him back. I mean what was I going to say?!?!
He came out a few minutes later, saying "Tess, we're so sorry....he's been down too long. And even if we had brought him back, he wouldn't have been Rob......."
I've been assured - by doctors and the paramedics - that Rob didn't feel anything. He was sleeping, he was in the arms of someone who adored him, and he died without any struggle.
But dammit, I can't help but wonder if that Toradol didn't just spur the heart failure symptoms into a fatal event.
That's probably not fair of me - Rob had so many medical problems, the likelihood is that either he took too many pain meds (a possibility), or his body simply gave out.
The vomiting could have been caused by pain meds, heart failure, acute kidney failure, you name it and it could have caused the vomiting.
So why the hell do I feel guilty?!??!?!?!?
Even though I've been assured over and over that there was nothing I could have done, it still burns.
Could I have done something?
Rob was cremated. Part of me actually wanted them to do an autopsy just to see (he'd been under hospital care only 72 hours prior, so I figured an autopsy might have been done, but nope) what was the actual cause of death.
Sigh.
My Wombat.
I'm ok though. More or less.
Edit:
The more I read about Toradol, the more I'm thinking that it really did push Rob's body over the edge. Maybe I need to stop reading these articles and medical journal entries which warn against using Toradol in heart and/or ki
"Grief is loss IN love" (as opposed to loss OF love).
and this....
"Love is the fuel of grief".
Truer words were never spoken.
****************************************
I still have questions.
Well, one, really. First, I need to get this out and on paper or something, so here we go. Please bear in mind that my memory of that night is hazy at best. Some details and exact times might not be the most accurate in the world, but this is how I remember it:
Rob was discharged from the hospital on Saturday, Dec 21. He left with some pain meds (Lortab) and some Xanax, and was in a lot of pain. Prior to this, he'd been given Toradol ( a super NSAID painkiller, basically) soon after he'd had the surgery....and you're not meant to give Toradol to kidney patients (it caused fluid and sodium retention and messes with the electrolytes). His potassium went through the roof - 8.1 - and they had to flush him to get it back down. Rob was NOT impressed! (He bitched about this for quite a while...). The doctor actually said "Oops" when he realised what had caused the potassium increase.....and as we all know, "Oops" is a four letter word you never, ever want to hear from a doctor!!!!
We got him home, and settled, but on Sunday he'd started to gain fluid in his legs again. His thighs, calves and ankles were very swollen, and he was coughing a bit, too, but not as much as previously. This has happened before, and we just increased his Lasix. On Monday morning he'd lost several pounds worth of fluid, and was feeling a little better, though still in considerable pain.
On Monday evening he took some pain meds - I'm not sure how many - and some Xanax (probably one or two more than was prescribed). I'd gone to bed around 11:45 pm or so, and he followed about an hour later.
He snuggled into me, and I had my arm around him.
A little later, I woke up, feeling dampness on my arm. I figured, because he's diabetic, he'd gone really low again - which always led to severe clamminess - and moved to help shift him into a sitting position.
That's when vomit-like liquid poured out of his nose and mouth. I also noticed - and blocked it out - that he was cold, too.
He wasn't responding to me. I called 911, and was asked "Can you perform CPR?".
Tess: "I'd love to...but I can't get his mouth open....his teeth are clenched!". I held Rob's head in my arms, crying.
The paramedic who first came in knew us both by name. He went into the bedroom - the police had also come, and advised me to stay in the living room - and came out again, saying "Tess, he's been down awhile...do you still want us to try and resuscitate him?".
Rob and I both had listed "no heroic measures" on our living wills....but dammit, I told that Paramedic to get back there and try and bring him back. I mean what was I going to say?!?!
He came out a few minutes later, saying "Tess, we're so sorry....he's been down too long. And even if we had brought him back, he wouldn't have been Rob......."
I've been assured - by doctors and the paramedics - that Rob didn't feel anything. He was sleeping, he was in the arms of someone who adored him, and he died without any struggle.
But dammit, I can't help but wonder if that Toradol didn't just spur the heart failure symptoms into a fatal event.
That's probably not fair of me - Rob had so many medical problems, the likelihood is that either he took too many pain meds (a possibility), or his body simply gave out.
The vomiting could have been caused by pain meds, heart failure, acute kidney failure, you name it and it could have caused the vomiting.
So why the hell do I feel guilty?!??!?!?!?
Even though I've been assured over and over that there was nothing I could have done, it still burns.
Could I have done something?
Rob was cremated. Part of me actually wanted them to do an autopsy just to see (he'd been under hospital care only 72 hours prior, so I figured an autopsy might have been done, but nope) what was the actual cause of death.
Sigh.
My Wombat.
I'm ok though. More or less.
Edit:
The more I read about Toradol, the more I'm thinking that it really did push Rob's body over the edge. Maybe I need to stop reading these articles and medical journal entries which warn against using Toradol in heart and/or ki
15 Jan, 2008..you know it's winter when...
....it's -23 and you're wishing for it to go all the way up to 0 degrees, just to stop your nipples from freezing off!
It's hard to believe Rob's been gone for three weeks. Then again, it feels like the longest three weeks of my entire life (and I've had me some long weeks). Sometimes the mornings are worse, perhaps in part because that's the time of day we pretty much always had together. Sometimes though, it's the evenings. With Rob being such an insomniac, and me not being one (until recently, falling asleep was never a problem!), he used to tell me how lonely it could be during the evening when I was sleeping, and how much he missed me. I never truly understood what he meant, until now.
Rob and I kept odd hours at times. He was very much a night-owl, and I'm more of a "regular hours" kind of gal. But during those small hours of the morning we would generally cherish each other a little more, as I'd just woken up and he was about to go crash. But really, what I wanted to write today was a bit of a cute memory. OK, it's really cute. Bear with me!
Every now and then Rob would bring home a plush animal from one of the thrift stores. He knew I liked the more cutesy animals - bunnies, penguins, lambs - while he gravitated more towards coyotes and things that went "Grrr" or "roar" or "let me bite your head please". So, over time we'd managed to gather about 25 of these critters, and they all lived (they were "our childrens" - yes, plural intended) on the back of the futon. The cutesy ones towards one end, where I sat, and the more uh...carnivorous folk lived towards the other end, where Rob would sit.
Occasionally, I'd wake up, wander into the living room and do a double take. Mr Coyote seemed to have moved a couple of spaces...and seemed really, really intent on making his way over to where Mr Lamby and Mr Floppsy were sitting, minding their own business. I'd say..
"Hmm...I don't remember Mr Coyote being that far along the sofa...."
To which Rob would reply, in the cutest little Savannah accent,
"Ah think Mr Coyote thinks that's a "all y'all can eat" buffet right there....Ah think he's a lil hungry...."
Tess: "You tell Mr Coyote that he's vegetarian!"
Rob: "Ah think he thinks that Mr Lamb is a vegetal....maybe a carrot...ah think he just gonna take a nibble, just to see.... "
OK, that was probably much cuter to me than it would be to anyone else, but it's a memory that makes me smile.
Peace.
It's hard to believe Rob's been gone for three weeks. Then again, it feels like the longest three weeks of my entire life (and I've had me some long weeks). Sometimes the mornings are worse, perhaps in part because that's the time of day we pretty much always had together. Sometimes though, it's the evenings. With Rob being such an insomniac, and me not being one (until recently, falling asleep was never a problem!), he used to tell me how lonely it could be during the evening when I was sleeping, and how much he missed me. I never truly understood what he meant, until now.
Rob and I kept odd hours at times. He was very much a night-owl, and I'm more of a "regular hours" kind of gal. But during those small hours of the morning we would generally cherish each other a little more, as I'd just woken up and he was about to go crash. But really, what I wanted to write today was a bit of a cute memory. OK, it's really cute. Bear with me!
Every now and then Rob would bring home a plush animal from one of the thrift stores. He knew I liked the more cutesy animals - bunnies, penguins, lambs - while he gravitated more towards coyotes and things that went "Grrr" or "roar" or "let me bite your head please". So, over time we'd managed to gather about 25 of these critters, and they all lived (they were "our childrens" - yes, plural intended) on the back of the futon. The cutesy ones towards one end, where I sat, and the more uh...carnivorous folk lived towards the other end, where Rob would sit.
Occasionally, I'd wake up, wander into the living room and do a double take. Mr Coyote seemed to have moved a couple of spaces...and seemed really, really intent on making his way over to where Mr Lamby and Mr Floppsy were sitting, minding their own business. I'd say..
"Hmm...I don't remember Mr Coyote being that far along the sofa...."
To which Rob would reply, in the cutest little Savannah accent,
"Ah think Mr Coyote thinks that's a "all y'all can eat" buffet right there....Ah think he's a lil hungry...."
Tess: "You tell Mr Coyote that he's vegetarian!"
Rob: "Ah think he thinks that Mr Lamb is a vegetal....maybe a carrot...ah think he just gonna take a nibble, just to see.... "
OK, that was probably much cuter to me than it would be to anyone else, but it's a memory that makes me smile.
Peace.
14 Jan, 2008
It'll be three weeks tomorrow.
Most of last week was spent in the Psych unit; I didn't feel suicidal per se, just unable to cope. They were pretty cool actually....there's a bereavement counsellor coming to the apt on Wednesday, so that might help too.
I'm doing ok, I spose, given the circumstances.
Yeah, I'm still spending a good portion of every hour crying, but at least I'm taking every day in 10-minute blocks. You know? Like...this ten minutes wasn't so bad. Last ten minutes were awful, but the next ten might be a little better too.
My sister wants me to go back to the UK. There's somewhere for me to stay until I get sorted out, but I'm in a pretty precarious position financially. I'm seriously considering it though. At this point, I'm willing to negotiate (some backpay maybe?) the whole legal issue....if there was some way to come up with an agreement that would a) help me out (financially, ie I'd have something to live on if I do go back to the UK, or just simple arbitration that'd be binding , signed by a judge and be irrevokable) and b) help out the other party, I'm all for it. It'd be legally binding for all parties involved. There's even a form I can fill out that revokes (voluntarily) my PR status if and when I do go back to the UK.
I'll talk to my lawyer and see what she thinks.
I NEED to start eating right. I have NO idea why I'm not eating....and again, those of you who've known me previously also know that not eating has never really been an issue....
I'd also like to thank everyone - and I mean *everyone* (that bit is for a certain lady who - despite the circumstances of our knowing each other - sent me an email of condolence, which I really thought was very sweet) - for the continued love and support. I'm sorry I didn't post for a week or so, but (not surprisingly) the psych unit doesn't allow computer access.
I did learn quite a lot about myself though.
Most of last week was spent in the Psych unit; I didn't feel suicidal per se, just unable to cope. They were pretty cool actually....there's a bereavement counsellor coming to the apt on Wednesday, so that might help too.
I'm doing ok, I spose, given the circumstances.
Yeah, I'm still spending a good portion of every hour crying, but at least I'm taking every day in 10-minute blocks. You know? Like...this ten minutes wasn't so bad. Last ten minutes were awful, but the next ten might be a little better too.
My sister wants me to go back to the UK. There's somewhere for me to stay until I get sorted out, but I'm in a pretty precarious position financially. I'm seriously considering it though. At this point, I'm willing to negotiate (some backpay maybe?) the whole legal issue....if there was some way to come up with an agreement that would a) help me out (financially, ie I'd have something to live on if I do go back to the UK, or just simple arbitration that'd be binding , signed by a judge and be irrevokable) and b) help out the other party, I'm all for it. It'd be legally binding for all parties involved. There's even a form I can fill out that revokes (voluntarily) my PR status if and when I do go back to the UK.
I'll talk to my lawyer and see what she thinks.
I NEED to start eating right. I have NO idea why I'm not eating....and again, those of you who've known me previously also know that not eating has never really been an issue....
I'd also like to thank everyone - and I mean *everyone* (that bit is for a certain lady who - despite the circumstances of our knowing each other - sent me an email of condolence, which I really thought was very sweet) - for the continued love and support. I'm sorry I didn't post for a week or so, but (not surprisingly) the psych unit doesn't allow computer access.
I did learn quite a lot about myself though.
26 Dec, 2007
Rob died at 1:45 December 25th, 2007, in my arms.
He died peacefully, without pain, without struggle.
There will be a service here in Fargo on Friday Dec 28th, but I'd love to have his life celebrated online too, somehow. Or at least get a "guestbook" going of some kind.
This leaves me...beyond anything.
He died peacefully, without pain, without struggle.
There will be a service here in Fargo on Friday Dec 28th, but I'd love to have his life celebrated online too, somehow. Or at least get a "guestbook" going of some kind.
This leaves me...beyond anything.
21 Dec, 2007
The CRT went fairly well; the first two leads (there are three) were implanted on Monday (I probably already blogged about that, but I'm running on about 2 hours of sleep and eleventy million cups of coffee), and the third was implated last night.
We thought that I'd be able to take Rob home today, but there was a complication....his potassium level this morning was 8.1. You read right. Normal is 2.5 - 5.0, and his was up the proverbial wazoo. Now in most cases, a potassium level that high would cause serious heart problems (like he doesn't have enough, right?); miraculously, the pacemaker was already doing it's job and so the EKG was normal...thankfully. He'll be in another night at least, and probably won't be home until Monday. If the meds don't work, he'll have to have dialysis (but only one course). We also need to talk about kidney transplant.
(His blood sugars are also through the roof - 628 was the last one about an hour ago).
His potassium is coming down though....but his creatinine is at 4.0 (it was 1.8 only ten days ago), and that's a major concern too, as he's already got 50% renal failure.
Oy.
I keep smiling though...and he knows I'm with him.
We thought that I'd be able to take Rob home today, but there was a complication....his potassium level this morning was 8.1. You read right. Normal is 2.5 - 5.0, and his was up the proverbial wazoo. Now in most cases, a potassium level that high would cause serious heart problems (like he doesn't have enough, right?); miraculously, the pacemaker was already doing it's job and so the EKG was normal...thankfully. He'll be in another night at least, and probably won't be home until Monday. If the meds don't work, he'll have to have dialysis (but only one course). We also need to talk about kidney transplant.
(His blood sugars are also through the roof - 628 was the last one about an hour ago).
His potassium is coming down though....but his creatinine is at 4.0 (it was 1.8 only ten days ago), and that's a major concern too, as he's already got 50% renal failure.
Oy.
I keep smiling though...and he knows I'm with him.
19 Dec, 2007 pt...whenever
Well, it's no longer disgusting o'clock....and I managed to grab a whole 2 hours of sleep. Wheee! I'm a little overhyped (which probably isn't helped by the super-grande-ultra-quad-shot-caramel-moc
I tried to comfort him by telling him it's a relic (ok, I should've chosen a better word than that...) of his live journey...a bookmark, of sorts.
It's much easier for me to say that though than it is for him to believe it.
Sigh.
I feel so bad for him.
**********
Take 3 hours of sleep; add two cups of mint tea and a crapload of patchouli incense and mix.
Then you might "rest" awhile.
Good lawdy we're both so tired! But everything seems ok. The third lead in the device will be done tomorrow (Thursday) and then he should be home for the weekend!
Weeeeeeeeeeeee!
(and...Moooooooooo!)
19 Dec, 2007 pt 2
During this journey, I've been able to somewhat keep ahold of my sanity.
(I picture my sanity as being something a bit like a pink Chuzzle. You know, those addictive fuzzy thingies in that addictive fuzzy game thingy).
Buddhism helped me regain my sanity once before (though the Chuzzle part remained a bit elusive for awhile - I think it was hiding beneath those oh-so-attractive mud-brown hospital gowns); I was 28 and had just had a hysterectomy. And in his infinite wisdom, the surgeon put me right back on the OB/GYN ward, along with about 20 new mothers. Babies cried. I cried. Maybe there was a lesson there, I'm not sure....but really, I left the hospital in pain, both physical and emotional. And Percocet can't touch emotional pain, believe me. I was hurting, angry and bitter about having the choice to have a child with my then-husband sliced away from me with the cool blade of a scalpel.
Someone, somewhere pointed me to a book by Thich Nhat Hanh, called "Anger: Wisdom for cooling the flames". I'm not entirely sure what happened whilst I was actually reading the book, but so much made sense to me; in the five years since then I've been able to deal far better with some major emotional issues, and actually come to view these situations with something akin to acceptance. As unlikely as it sounds, this acceptance is close friends with another Chuzzle-like entity, "calmness", and they both pay visits to my psyche daily.
It beats having to search high and low for a pink fuzzy Chuzzle who doesn't want to be found.
(I picture my sanity as being something a bit like a pink Chuzzle. You know, those addictive fuzzy thingies in that addictive fuzzy game thingy).
Buddhism helped me regain my sanity once before (though the Chuzzle part remained a bit elusive for awhile - I think it was hiding beneath those oh-so-attractive mud-brown hospital gowns); I was 28 and had just had a hysterectomy. And in his infinite wisdom, the surgeon put me right back on the OB/GYN ward, along with about 20 new mothers. Babies cried. I cried. Maybe there was a lesson there, I'm not sure....but really, I left the hospital in pain, both physical and emotional. And Percocet can't touch emotional pain, believe me. I was hurting, angry and bitter about having the choice to have a child with my then-husband sliced away from me with the cool blade of a scalpel.
Someone, somewhere pointed me to a book by Thich Nhat Hanh, called "Anger: Wisdom for cooling the flames". I'm not entirely sure what happened whilst I was actually reading the book, but so much made sense to me; in the five years since then I've been able to deal far better with some major emotional issues, and actually come to view these situations with something akin to acceptance. As unlikely as it sounds, this acceptance is close friends with another Chuzzle-like entity, "calmness", and they both pay visits to my psyche daily.
It beats having to search high and low for a pink fuzzy Chuzzle who doesn't want to be found.
19 Dec, 2007
Heavens to Murgatroyd....I'm tired.
It's around 1am, and Rob is in his room (207). The surgical team only got two leads implanted into the device, so Rob's staying in the hospital till Friday, because it's a bit more surgery to get the third lead implanted (they need a different surgeon to do this who isn't available until Thursday).
He's ok thought; BP and BG are within normal limits, though his pain is through the roof. He's currently on Percocet x 2 every four hours, with morphine every two hours as needed.
Poor darling....if I could take his pain to ease his suffering, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Pun intended....maybe.
Going for more coffee!
xxxxx
It's around 1am, and Rob is in his room (207). The surgical team only got two leads implanted into the device, so Rob's staying in the hospital till Friday, because it's a bit more surgery to get the third lead implanted (they need a different surgeon to do this who isn't available until Thursday).
He's ok thought; BP and BG are within normal limits, though his pain is through the roof. He's currently on Percocet x 2 every four hours, with morphine every two hours as needed.
Poor darling....if I could take his pain to ease his suffering, I'd do it in a heartbeat.
Pun intended....maybe.
Going for more coffee!
xxxxx
18 Dec, 2007
You know the really scary thing about surgery? The feeling of not being in control.
Rob's CRT was scheduled for 11am this morning; because his blood sugar was only 72 they delayed it awhile (note: his BG is usually so out of whack that 72 is considered unconsciousness-level low for him. Yay). So, he's in there and I'm out here in the waiting room (which thankfully has a computer avec la Ninterweb...).
(The Ninterweb is, of course, Tess-ish for Internet. It's a bastardisation of "Interweb" - the origin of which escapes me - and includes the now-ubiquitousness of adding the letter "N" to every word which begins with a vowel. And plenty that don't, now I think about it).
The procedure itself is fairly minor, considering it's basically poking wires into your heart. Read more here
if you're interested.
It's the waiting, you know? The waiting around. That, and knowing that even with this device, the longterm prognosis is unaffected.
70% with congestive heart failure die within 5 years of diagnosis; realistically, heart transplantation is the only hope at cure.
God, that sucks so much I can't even quantify it.
Still, I'm trying to keep us both uplifted, which isn't as easy as it sounds (and it doesn't sound easy). Rob's still in a varying degree of denial about the condition and his situation, which I think is probably healthier for him mentally at this point. He's just so young. And it's happened so damn quickly. In many ways Rob has been the - admittedly cynical - poster child for "Why Not To Smoke. Like, seriously dude".
I think I need coffee.
Rob's CRT was scheduled for 11am this morning; because his blood sugar was only 72 they delayed it awhile (note: his BG is usually so out of whack that 72 is considered unconsciousness-level low for him. Yay). So, he's in there and I'm out here in the waiting room (which thankfully has a computer avec la Ninterweb...).
(The Ninterweb is, of course, Tess-ish for Internet. It's a bastardisation of "Interweb" - the origin of which escapes me - and includes the now-ubiquitousness of adding the letter "N" to every word which begins with a vowel. And plenty that don't, now I think about it).
The procedure itself is fairly minor, considering it's basically poking wires into your heart. Read more here
if you're interested.It's the waiting, you know? The waiting around. That, and knowing that even with this device, the longterm prognosis is unaffected.
70% with congestive heart failure die within 5 years of diagnosis; realistically, heart transplantation is the only hope at cure.
God, that sucks so much I can't even quantify it.
Still, I'm trying to keep us both uplifted, which isn't as easy as it sounds (and it doesn't sound easy). Rob's still in a varying degree of denial about the condition and his situation, which I think is probably healthier for him mentally at this point. He's just so young. And it's happened so damn quickly. In many ways Rob has been the - admittedly cynical - poster child for "Why Not To Smoke. Like, seriously dude".
I think I need coffee.
14 Dec, 2007
It's bloody freezing here. I mean really cold. Cold enough indeed to freeze the proverbial balls of the brass monkey.
Rob's CRT surgery is this Monday (the 17th, right?). It was originally scheduled for this past Monday, but his blood glucose was 728. That's Seven Hundred and Twenty Eight.
A tad high.
So we rescheduled.
I just want this procedure done with....it's a form of protection against sudden cardiac death, and I really can't emphasise how important this is.
I don't want him to die...period.
Much less as a sudden cardiac death, yanno?
This isn't making much sense at all. I'll come back later and retype this, probably..or not :) Yo
Rob's CRT surgery is this Monday (the 17th, right?). It was originally scheduled for this past Monday, but his blood glucose was 728. That's Seven Hundred and Twenty Eight.
A tad high.
So we rescheduled.
I just want this procedure done with....it's a form of protection against sudden cardiac death, and I really can't emphasise how important this is.
I don't want him to die...period.
Much less as a sudden cardiac death, yanno?
This isn't making much sense at all. I'll come back later and retype this, probably..or not :) Yo
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