LanaIndiana

Was My Husband Cheating? Susan K Clisby HOMEWRECKER

2014-11-03T20:21:00.003-05:00

My darling husband died in June. Almost every week someone would leave a red or pink rose on his grave. Once the absolute numbness of losing him wore off and I began to take notice of the things around me, I began asking family and friends if THEY had left a rose. Always the same answer…. No.
It continued.
Late summer, Fall and even the dead of winter. Every time I went to visit and grieve for my husband, a rose was there. It truly began to make me feel upset and uncomfortable. My husband's grave was all I had of him. That and our precious memories. Why would someone intrude on that?
Time passed. Life went on. Days came and went. The grief was always there waiting to bubble up at a song, a smell or a memory.

3 Months later, I had posted a blog about my sadness and grief.
It was less than 4 days later I got this note in the mail:

Lana

I stumbled across your website a couple of years ago.

Your videos and blog actually made me throw up in my mouth!

Nobody cares what you wore to the funeral. You are a Martyr widow. Nobody cares that you wore black gloves. But, really, my dear, long black gloves in 90 degree weather? A big fine from The Fashion Police. You are not a movie star or royalty so come down off your high horse. Your story about the "five dots" just makes you delusional. You and your DEAD husband had seperate lives. At least HENRY did, if you get what I mean.

Personally, you are Trailer Trash and the perfect example of how money can't buy you class.

Henry deserved better.

I was shocked, hurt and stunned.
What kind of woman writes a note like that just to hurt? I have always been an advocate and strong supporter of women.
Writing a note to criticize what I wore to put my husband in the ground for eternity? Why would she even care?
Was my husband cheating on me?
I didn't ever feel that he was. We were happy together and in love.
I never had that "gut" feeling. We were together almost constantly.
Even if he was cheating on me, what she was doing was nothing more than mean and so cruel!
I had no proof. I had no peace.
I began to suspect everyone! Stranger's that smiled at me in the grocery store. People I didn't know that added me on FaceBook.
Even friends. I felt as though I was in a bubble and just the slightest thing could burst it and I would disappear completely.
I had to know. My close friends volunteered to go stake out the cemetery. All I wanted was a name. A face.

The roses continued.
I placed our wedding picture in a beautiful frame and had it waterproofed and placed it lovingly at his tombstone.
Our Wedding….A happier time and place.
The picture disappeared.
Still the roses came.
I went to winter at my Florida home in the sunshine. Henry never far from my heart and mind.
I returned. More fresh roses lying on my husbands grave in the sweet smell of newly cut grass and Indiana sunshine.

In late June this year, I decided to hell with my humiliation. What did it matter anyway? Isn't catching and exposing this person more important than feeling embarrassed and humiliated? I was hurt enough. Nothing he/she could ever do could hurt as much as losing my sweet Henry so I began asking friends what they would do? I also posted a YouTube video explaining it all.

After a lengthy discussion my good friend Kevin told me to place a deer camera on a tree in the cemetery to catch whoever it was.
A what?
I never knew they had such a thing…..
He helped me choose one and place it in the proper place near my husband's grave.
More later……

Some Help From Heaven

2013-09-02T12:15:00.000-04:00

Ok, let's see if I can write this without breaking down completely....

After my husband died, each of his three sons came to me to ask if they could have his Rolex watch.
The fact that there are 3 boys and only one watch and I had bought it for him as a Christmas gift, I told each of them that I would rather keep it myself.
It broke my heart to turn them down. They were hurting just as bad as I was. They lost their dad/best friend/boss after all.

It was a decision I would later regret....

After my husband died, I had moved, re-arranged my life, made adjustments. Learned to cope.
I paid off my house, moved, bought two cars, made decisions I hadn't had to make in many years. My husband did it all.
He was gone.

I had to have some small construction done in my Florida home. I hired a crew to do the work. All was going ok.
The house seemed alive with people.
The men were in and out of my house every day beginning at 7:00 a.m. to end of day.
One of the men from the construction crew saw and remarked on my husbands beautiful watch.
"Wow, that's one pretty watch." He declared when he saw it as he passed through the Master Suite where I had placed it the night before.

I made a quick mental note to hide it in the house or to take it to my safe deposit box.... The landline phone rang... the conversation forgotten as I ran to answer it in the bustle of the buzzing saws and hammering noises of the construction going on in the next room.

That night, as I lay in bed reflecting on the happenings of the day, I remembered and as I raced to check on it, the watch was gone! Gone!
Disappeared from the place it was just that morning.
My heart sank.

I immediately called the police.
A flood of regret washed over me. My beautiful husband's watch on another man's arm? Lost? Missing.
I felt so broken.
Why hadn't I given it to one of the boys? At least then it would be safe. Treasured. Still in the hands of those that love my husband not some stranger.

Sadly, the police took my information, filed a report and told me they would do what they could to trace it if it showed up in a pawn shop but warned me that the chances were slim of ever getting it back.

The owner of the construction company had nothing to offer in the way of help either. I had no proof. There was only my suspicion that the young man that had asked about it had actually taken it.
My chances of ever seeing that watch again were slim to none.
I felt so hopeless.

I can't do anything right!
Who allows their deceased husband's watch to be stolen from their own home????

I had many things of my husband's that evoked so many sweet memories of him but I could squeeze my eyes shut real tight and SEE that watch on his big strong arm when he was alive and healthy.
The bright shiny gold would glitter in the sun as we would walk hand in hand into church on a beautiful Sunday morning. Out to dinner and I would see it on his wrist in the dim light of a candlelit restaurant as he reached across the table to grasp my hand. Every night I would see it on his side of the bed carefully placed on the night stand ready to be worn to the office as he rushed out the door.

Weeks passed then months. No word from the Florida State Police Department. Nothing.
Not a day passed by that I would not think of my husband and his missing watch. It was eating my soul to know I had let it slip away.
Gone.

My husband's birthday was approaching. May 6.
His first birthday away from me. All I could do was cry.
I miss him so much. Every day.

May 6, 2013
I went to the cemetery in the morning. As I stood there in the early light of the beautiful spring day, I told my husband what had happened. Explained my stupidity. Not just about the watch but many other stupid things I have done in the months since he passed.

I slowly drove home. Going to the cemetery was my way of going to "visit" my husband and it always made me feel sad but slightly better to know he was lying there waiting for me... someday.
We share a headstone.

When I arrived home, my phone rang.
Pinellas County Police Department.
They found the watch!!!

What? Really? How?

The person that stole it had posted it for sale on Craigslist.
It was posted at 11:30 p.m. and it was recovered by midnight and on it's way back to me via USPS overnight.

I got my husband's precious watch back and will watch over it like it's Fort Knox from now on.
I don't believe that the deceased can see ALL we do but I believe they do know what is bothering us.
To get that watch returned at all was a miracle. To get it back on my husband's birthday confirms that to me. I was beating my self up every single day for letting it slip away from me.

Rest in Peace Sweet Henry. Every second that ticks by on your precious watch reminds me of you.
I love and miss you so much.

Here is the Craigslist posting that the police were able to trace to the stolen watch:

NEW Skin Care. Anti-Aging

2013-09-01T17:01:00.001-04:00

The Power of Love Part 1

2013-05-11T14:17:00.001-04:00

The Power of Love

I'm sorry I haven't made a YouTube video in such a long time. My heart hasn't been in it lately but I will return.
That's not why I'm writing today. I want to tell of you of the sweetest love story I know. One that makes me cry while typing this out.

In October a few years back I wrote about my beautiful friend Candy and her survival story of Breast Cancer.
Sadly she passed away last week.
She won and fought for so long. Her breast cancer showed it's ugly face when she was in her 30's. After her mastectomy, she had breast reconstruction surgery. The plastic surgeon tunneled fat from her tummy and formed a new breast from that fat.
All was wonderful.
She was alive and felt whole again after the dreadful loss of a breast. (All of us as women know how painful a loss that would be)
28 years later, about a year ago, Candy began experiencing horrible pain in her stomach. The cancer had a trail to go to and it was now in her stomach lining. She was in for the fight of her life. She went thru chemo and more chemo. So much chemo that her fingertips turned black and were numb. She lost her hair and it grew back, more chemo and gone again.
Finally, her doctors told her there was nothing more they could do. They sent her home with a morphine pump and a bag to go to the bathroom in....

Candy had been married for years to the man of her heart. Her soulmate Dan. She loved him with all of her being. He loved his booze and other illegal things. They divorced but Candy never stopped her love and affection for Dan. She did everything to mend the relationship but it was not to be. Dan loved her too but had other loves.

The doctors told hospice no more food or water for Candy. She would lie in bed wracked in pain and ask about her one love, Dan.
For 5 weeks Candy hung on. There was no medical reason for her to still be here. Still be on Earth, still alive, still loving Dan.
Every day she asked for him.

The doctors and nurses were amazed she was still clinging to life.

Everyone would say, "What is she waiting for?"

She was waiting for Dan!

Last week Candy took her last breath. Her beautiful heart stopped beating.
When we knew she was gone, we were all so sad but so relieved she was no longer suffering. No longer in pain....
She was gone.
We got the call later that night that Dan had died.
6 hours after Candy took her last breath at home. Dan died in a hospital emergency room 2 miles away from liver failure.
Candy was waiting on Dan.
The most ironic part of all.....
They both died on their wedding anniversary!
Their daughter Dani lost her mother and her father all in one night.
6 hours apart.

I truly believe in my heart that Candy waited on Dan. Her heart knew he would need her where they were going. I believe and all of her family and friends believe that her love for him waited to hold his hand and take him to eternity together.
I write this sobbing.
A more pure love story could not be made up like this. I think love can be as strong as the Heaven's.

Next time I write I want to tell you how my darling husband helped me from his grave. It was like he was guiding me. Helping me. I'm too emotional right now to tell it all but it's a powerful love story too.
Until next time...
Cherish those you love like there's no tomorrow.

I love you all.

Vampire Face Lift

2013-02-28T19:23:00.000-05:00

Vampire Face Lift

So, I did a video a week or so ago after being away from YouTube for well over a year.
It was very liberating and fun!
I was back.
I missed all of you so much and especially missed the "friendships" that I have developed thru the years on the web with all of you.
I truly did miss you and thought of you many times. But... I digress.

The first video back, I was a nervous wreck.
Would I still be able to sit in my bathroom in front of my little "Flip-Cam" and talk to you in coherent sentences?

I did it!
I was back.
I can do it and loved doing it. The interactions from you are what I missed most. Sweet, beautiful comments and so much love!
I was back.

Being caretaker to a dying loved one can and will take it's toll. You hair goes dull, your mind loses it's sharpness. Your looks go hollow.
You can either gain or lose weight.
I gained! Boy did I gain!

Then... he died.
I lost.
I lost so much including weight.

My features seemed to crumble and when I looked in the mirror 6 months later, I didn't even recognize myself.
After my husband's death, I was convinced I had less than 6 months to live.
I planned my funeral down to the last detail. Gave my boys explicit instructions on what to do with my estate and all of my worldly possessions.
I was going to be gone anyway, why bother with living? Why buy anything or worry about how I looked.
My clothes hung off me by now.
I had lost 35 pounds by the time I finally woke up!
Who was I anymore?

I decided I needed outside help STAT!
After being in Florida, I went to see a wonderful doctor and his work seemed to be a miracle in my life.
I am not going to die!
I am 57 years old. I have a lot of living to do.
I joined a gym.
I made an appointment at a Rejuva spa and my entire outlook changed that day.
I was back!!

The doctor told me of a procedure that uses your own blood and spins it down to a serum of platelet rich plasma that he injects into your face to fill in hollows and form an under the skin roadmap to rebuild valuable collagen and a network of Fibrin Matrix under the skin.

In one simple sentence....
Within one to three months of treatment, Selphyl reverses the ravages of time. Damage from age and weather begin to disappear.
They call this the Vampire Face Lift because it uses your own blood to give you a non-surgical facelift!

Here's how it went for me:
I agreed to to have my doctor perform the procedure. He asked me if I wanted a Dental Block for the pain?
Uhmmm. Yes!
He injected a numbing agent into the gum line on top and bottom. 3 shots to the gums upper and 3 shots to the lower and my entire mouth was numb. I felt as if I had eaten a case of frozen Popscicles.
While that was taking effect he took 3 vials of blood from my arm. No pain no gain, right?

The blood vials he puts into a centrifuge (looks like a toaster oven) to spin the blood to a clear serum. The precious vials of clear liquid he sets on a sterile tray.
By now, my mouth has no feeling.
My tongue.
Is it dangling out of the corner of my face?
I haven't got a clue. I can't feel a thing.
In a series of quick shots with many needles (probably 50) he injects my own cells back into me only now into my haggard face.
Nothing foreign. It's all mine!
He explains that it will be days or even weeks before I see results. The network of stem cells are in place and can begin doing their job.
My mouth and face are numb. I look like I stuck my face into a very large bee hive on a sunny day and got the crap stung out of me.

I get no real instructions except not to use my Clairsonic for 24 hours.

Total cost?
$1200.00
One more dose in two months at half that price.
$600.00
________
$1,800.00 to rewind your face 10- 15 years?
Some bruising that fades each day but is easily covered with a good concealer.
I go back to work the next day.

2 Weeks Later:
Every day I wake up and see a subtle difference. It's not really like a filler but it's more a softening of your face.
This morning I looked in the mirror and said to my reflection there,
"Well, Hello! Who are you?
Where did you come from?
I don't know but I like you!"
I am back!

I am very pleased with the results and will go back in 4 weeks for the 2nd round. Results generally last 3 years.
That's a long time. 3 years.
I hope this answers any questions you may have. I will drag my camera along on my next visit and film it.
I love you all. xo

Working Girl

2013-02-04T08:37:00.000-05:00

Hello Again My Lovely and Beautiful Friends.

Not because I am broke or in debt, I am going back to work.

My husband insured I would be taken care of long into my 90's and beyond.
He simply didn't want me to have to depend on a man for support in any way. I'm happy he did that for me not because of the money but because of the independence and freedom to go and do what I want and need to do. I have several girlfriends that lost their beloved husbands only to lose their homes and lifestyles as well.

The house in Key Largo sold. It was to be mine for a year. I gave it up as soon as I was able to physically get on a plane and manage the move.
It was hard. So many memories there. Beautiful memories of a time when we were happy and healthy.
It's hard to go from being happily married to suddenly single.
Had my husband left me for another woman I could have tried to get him back. Fought for him. Begged, pleaded and worked to keep him close and mine.
He didn't leave me for another woman.
He died.
He left me to save a spot for me at his side in Heaven.

I know he's near me daily. I see him every time the sun rises in the morning. When the Florida wind kicks up and I feel the soft breeze on my face... I know he's there. Beside me.
I fought. I fought hard for him to stay here but God wanted him there.
I begged and pleaded and worked so hard to keep him with me.
I made deals with God. God had other plans for a great man.
Who am I to argue with God?

I bought a new house closer to my son here in Florida. I am keeping my Indiana home and will fly back and forth. Being here has been healing for me.
Anyway, I am doing well.
Not 100% yet but it will come.
I applied to three airlines and am going back to flying. It's my passion. One doesn't work simply because they are broke.
I love to work. Sitting and staring at walls all day gets very old and extremely exhausting. I may be 57 years old but I am far from dead!
I love people and feel I still have plenty to offer this planet so off to work I go.

Getting up in the morning and having a plan is very liberating.
Sure, with all of the money my husband left me, I could shop and lunch with friends all day. Buy exotic cars, travel the world, drip myself in diamonds but that is simply not me.

I love you all and will do videos soon. I miss my YouTube channel but the time just hasn't felt right. It will.

I have found that all things good come in due time when the timing is right.
Love and Peace,
Lana

"No Cry" Days

2012-09-29T11:40:00.001-04:00

The old saying is that a widow should not buy anything or sell anything for a year after her husbands death. No major decisions to made within that 365 day exile.
Blah.
So... I tried that for 3 months. It blows!
What? Sit and look at walls? Wear black for months and go to the cemetery? Not smile or chat or laugh?
I did all that too.
It's exhausting and it does nothing more than cement into your skull that your man is gone. It is all a constant reminder of sadness. Don't get me wrong. I am sad. I cry on people.
Oh Lord do I cry on poor unsuspecting people!

I went to see my dentist. I had neglected most everything about myself so it was time. My dentist is also a friend. He entered the exam room with my x-rays in hand, said hello, touched my arm and in 1.3 seconds, I was blubbering all over his scrub-shirt. Not just the pretty tears that fall from your eyes like in movies but the full-on sobbing UGLY cry.
(I may have to switch dentists now I am so embarrassed)
Same with my Priest. My postman. My Veterinarian. The cashier at the grocery...
The list goes on, I am sorry to say.
Hey.. I think I we get a pass when we lose a loved one.
So, back to better news...
I decided to break all of the rules of being a widow.
I always claimed to be a "rule-breaker" so why stop now?
I'm done caring if people in my community judge me for crying too much.
I hear them whispering...
"Oh look, she cries too much. Her black dress is so big on her. She looks awful. Her eyes are red.
She's lost weight. She's aged 10 years."

Oh, Bite Me!

If people have so much to say about YOUR life... That says very little about their own, right?

Words to live by.
I haven't got all the answers on how to act or what to do. I never have! We just do what we can. Life is short. I plan on living each and every day in honor of my husband but to the fullest.
So...
I ran away from home!
It's so liberating. I am going back in a week.
Don't want to but have to...
Some of Henry's old football players from the Denver Broncos and basketball buddies from Purdue are honoring him with a benefit memorial. All proceeds will go to the Purdue Athletic Department in his name. It will be a sad and emotional day but I have my Big Girl Panties all picked out and laid out for that day.
I can DO this and I will.
Oh and I bought a new car. My dream car.
I thought it would make me happy. Things don't make you happy. People do.
I have amazing people in my life.
I am so blessed.
More later.

I Love You.

Is it Ever Okay to Lie?

2012-09-18T15:26:00.011-04:00

Every morning, no matter how ill or how much pain, Henry would get up and go to the office. It was his focus. Good for him to keep his mind off what was going on inside his wracked body. Neither of us knew.

He had refused to go to a doctor for a scope or scan or test. He had had it and I don't blame him. Surgery to deform him with no guarantee? No thanks. Maybe buy him 3 more months but no tongue, no voice, no face?

Our friends would ask me daily "How is he? What's going on? Is he ok? Is the cancer gone?"

My classic answer.... "I don't know. I am his nurse and the internet is our doctor."

The internet is a handy tool for quick solutions to simple problems but try diving into it deeply for REAL answers to real health issues. You can be lost in all of it and come away more confused than ever.

Nothing I could say or do would change his mind to see a medical professional. I ranted, raged, pleaded, begged, bargained.

Please?

No.

So on we went. Marching forward thru each day. Trudging along. Blissfully ignorant.

I have decided I am over all of the gloom and sadness and putting it out there. That is not who Henry was nor am I. He loved my blogs but I think even he would say to stop being so sad. One thing my husband was... He was FUN and funny. Four days before he died he said something so freaking funny it had me bent over laughing and crying.

God I miss him so.

But... This one thing keeps me awake for hours in the dark of night. It haunts me.

Actually, grieving these days is not at all about me, it's about what Henry went thru at the end. That is what sends me to bed for days to cry and cry. I can't get past what he went thru. The pain, the chemo, the radiation, the feeding tubes and not eating a BITE of food for over a year... Barely able to sip a drop of water. The swelling, the pain... ALL of it.

Those are the things I hurt about. Not about ME but about HIM.

His left arm swelled up to five times the size it normally was. Both legs swelled so huge that I would describe his feet as giant hams stuck to the ends of his legs with little toes stuck on.

Still he refused medical treatment. He wanted this done HIS way.

Everywhere in the house that he went there was this sticky stuff on the floor. Did one of the kids spill Kool-Aid? I would mop and scrub but at the end of the day it was sticky again. I found out later that it was protein leaking from his pores as he walked, he was so swollen. It had no where else to go so it seeped from him as he took each step.

Still he went to work.

I knew things were changing. He seemed to be dizzy and disoriented at times. I worried about him driving the 1.2 miles from our home to the office. I would walk with him to the car in my pajamas and coffee in hand, as the car would reach the end of the drive, I would follow it down the street. "Please God let him get there safely."

I would whisper silently as the car turned the corner out of sight.

About a week later, he came home and each day, each hour and each minute, things grew progressively worse.

He didn't go back to work. I knew things were bad. Henry not going to the office? It was really bad but he never complained or said a word about how he was feeling.

Each hour he was worse by now...

He asked me for paper and pen. He wanted to write. I gave him a stark white pad of paper and a pen with the company logo on it. He was adamant about writing something... What?

"I need to write this but write how do I write it?" he said.

"I'm not sure, write what you know." I told him, totally confused by what he wanted to say.

He began to write....

He wrote the date, his name and my name and wrote that I was amazing.

Oh God, I can't stop crying about this.

"Why am I amazing, darling? What do you mean "amazing?" I asked when I read what he had written.

He looked up at me and with that sweet smile of his, he told me he would save that and tell me someday and then I would know.

His next question...."Am I dying?"

What?

No!!!!

No, no,no, no.

No!

My heart fell clear to the floor and stopped.

Why did he ask me that?

" Why? Why do you ask me that?"

In the quietest voice I had ever heard, he said.."Because I feel like I'm dying."

Oh God! No.

At that exact moment, I think I knew. Tell him yes? Lie?

"Of course you're not dying, silly. You're going to be fine. Everything is fine." I lied.

Was I lying to him and to myself? Should I have told him yes? Should I have lied?

The answer to this question haunts me. Wakes me up at 2:00 a.m. every morning and sticks in head all thru the day. Should I have told him????

If/when my time comes, someone had better damn well be telling me about it!

I want to know.

To this day, I don't know if my lie was the right thing to do or not.

In my defense... I didn't know. Only God did.

Two days later he was gone. I had called the priest that married us to come to our home to give him his "Last Rites"

As the priest blessed him and prayed over him, I crawled into the bed. I held him in my arms. He took three last breaths and gently died in my arms. My heart died that day too.

Will the tears ever stop? I doubt it.

I can't wait to see my husband again. I need to tell him so much.

I want to tell him how proud I was to be his wife. How happy he made me. How very much I love him. I want to tell him that I am sorry I lied to the most important question he has ever asked of me.

And... I want to ask him about that one question he said he'd tell me about later....

Why did you write that I am so amazing?

I look forward to that day.

PS. To the miserable person that wrote the cowardly letter...

I know who you are.

I want to Thank You.

You see, your intention was to hurt but I have had all the hurt I can. Your words didn't hurt me. In fact they helped me and for that I thank you.

You lit a fire under me.

No more sitting looking at the walls. I am going back to work. I am going back to blogging and making videos soon. I learned one very valuable lesson in losing my darling husband and that is this:

Life is VERY short. Enjoy it.

And that is exactly what I intend to do.

Your cruel words mailed to me were intended to crush me. You can not. I am strong.

After all.... My husband thinks I am amazing!

I love you all. Thank you for being here. You, all of you, truly are amazing.

One Last Kiss

2012-09-03T10:26:00.011-04:00

The day of the funeral...

To feel so numb but to have so much to do is such a contradiction in terms. All I want to do is go to bed and stay there with the blankets pulled over my head.

Let someone else do this. I can't.

Phone calls from people, food and flowers arriving at the door. God, I hate the smell of roses now. So cloyingly sweet. The smell seems to penetrate the house but mostly my brain.

A friend of mine that I had met at the Radiation clinic... (That seems like it was a 100 years ago)

Her husband had died of the same horrible cancer my husband had, told me that she had put her dog up in the bed with her husband to let him know that he was gone.

Ewwww, so morbid!

After my husband had gone, I did just that.

Both dogs were thrilled to be up on the bed I had denied them access to these last weeks. The little Chihuahua, much older and wiser, sniffed him all over. Looked up at me with such sadness in her soft brown eyes then laid her little apple head on his arm with a small sigh. She bared her teeth at anyone that tried to move her from his side.

Izzy, usually so rambunctious and out of control, sniffed his face once, jumped off the bed like she had been shot from a cannon and hid under the bed in the next room.

They both knew.

I'm glad now I did this. They are both grieving but seem to know why their beloved master is not here. He's not coming home....

Shower, makeup, hair. Like an auto-mon get ready for this day.

Meet the rest of the family, cousins, relatives, life-long friends at the funeral home.

Pall Bearers

Saying good-bye. More tears. More sorrow. More prayers. More sadness.

One last goodbye. More tears fall onto his face. "My Darling, please know that I will always love you. Forever. Unending."

I see the six best friends of my husband, the pall bearers, bring the casket and loads of flowers out to the waiting hearse. Such a sunny pretty day but a black hole in all of our hearts. I feel as if my knees will buckle and I will become one with the parking lot.

I am just led around like a four year old. Totally clueless. I have never done this before.

Not this.

Our limo follows the long black hearse. Others follows us. A long steady stream of cars

winding thru the streets to the church Henry and I attended every Sunday that we could while we were home and together. I see people and recognize their faces but my heart can't acknowledge their presence or why they are there to tell this wonderful man good-bye.

So many people crying.

So much sadness.

People speak at the podium and the priest says the Mass. My husband is lying there beside me in a white draped coffin with a cross of gold embroidered on the delicate cloth.

The priest begins The Lord's Prayer.

Every Sunday, all of our married life and before, as "The Lord's Prayer" was being said, we would recite those familiar words, my husband would reach out and grab my hand as we spoke the words....Hands locked in a grasp, all of the week's issues and problems would seem to melt away....

Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be Done

No one to hold my hand now as that beautiful prayer was said, I reached out and laid my hand on the coffin. Never to hold his hand again, sobbing, as the prayer and the people prayed.

I could hear people crying behind me. He was so loved.

Back to the limo again.

Winding thru the streets. We don't go straight to the cemetery. Police escorts leading us past his business. All of his workers out lining the street in a silent salute and good-bye to this amazing man. Gone too Soon. Too Young... Too Good.

Following the hearse to the cemetery. A tent has been set up with chairs under the old oak trees in the spot we had chosen over a year before.

The sun dapples through the trees and glistens on the mirror covered casket. His name and birthdate and the date he left us engraved so beautifully on the top of the glass.

The priest ends the prayers and before they lower my beautiful husband into the ground, I bend to kiss the top. I leave an eternal lipstick print on the glass as I tell him one last good-bye...

How To Be a Widow II

2012-08-07T17:43:00.017-04:00

Time passes and memories of the last painful days ebb just the tiniest bit each day but the hurt is still simmering there, right beneath the surface.

24/7

You wake up each day and the sun still shines. Days pass and you even laugh. I still have feelings of guilt for being here and alive and Henry is not.

Had it only been me to go and not him. Visiting his grave each day, I want to open it up and crawl inside.

I have begun going to grief counseling and that helps. To be in a group of others...mothers, fathers, husbands, wives. All of them love and lost and it hurts. They say that "Time heals all wounds" but there is one addendum to that old adage and that is that time may heal but a scab forms and the slightest thing such as a song or smell or memory opens it up and the heart bleeds. Again.

I am strong.

I can do this.

Each day I get up. I apply lipstick and put one foot forward and life continues.

Henry would want me to be happy. He loved reading my blog and my watching my videos. The best thing about my husband was that he listened to me. I mean really LISTENED to me. Whether it was about lipstick or kids or the dogs. No subject matter was too small or too slight.

He listened to me. And isn't that what a "best friend" does?

Simply put, we had a marriage that many dream of. My best advice for success in any relationship is so easy and simple.

Be KIND to each other.

That's it.

Be kind.

Kindness is as easy as it is implied.

We all argue or feel our side or point of view is the correct one.

Would you rather always be RIGHT or always be HAPPY?

I choose being happy. Being right all the time is too much work.

I'm no one's doormat but I also don't feel the need to push my opinions, thoughts or ideas down anyone's throat.

I want so bad to go back and watch the videos that my husband was in but that day will be a long way off. We had so much fun making them. We had so much fun EVERY day!

Henry told me how proud of me he was daily. He told others I was "The Love of his Life."

I received sympathy cards from so many friends that wanted to share that Henry would always say that. *sigh*

Being the Love of His Life.

What a GIFT!

Those words help ease the pain. Just a tad.

The day of the showing was exhausting but with the love and support of my family and friends, we all got thru it. Ten hours of people and stories and so much love for my husband. It's funny to feel so close to so many strangers, acquaintances, and those you love all wrapped up into one day. I have found that when people tell me they knew my husband, I feel an instant bond. You knew him? Oh, please tell me more! Just talking about him keeps him alive in my heart and probably theirs as well.

The day of the funeral was to be grueling. To send a loved one off into eternity forever?

How does one do that?

I sat down each day and wrote down everything. Writing is therapy for myself and many others. Henry loved my writing. He made me promise to continue, hoping it would not only help me but others going thru an ordeal like this or something similar. If it helps one wife or sister, parent, brother or child that has lost a love, then all the better.

I love you all so much. Your kindness does indeed honor Henry and my gratefulness to you is more than I can put into words. We were both so blessed.

Be kind. Be kind to those you love and even to those you don't.

More later....

How to be a Widow

2012-07-31T08:01:00.015-04:00

*sigh*

Who would ever want to purposely write about this crap?

Certainly not me.

I am no expert.

I know how to be a wife.

I know how to be a mom.

I know how to be a woman.

I know how to be a friend.

I know how to be a CASA

I know how to be a Flight Attendant.

I am clueless how to be a widow.

When Henry was first diagnosed, I searched the internet like a freak looking for miracles. Plenty of stories of men with this horrible disease but never an ending. Never a wonderful outcome. Henry's cancer was a rare one. I just wanted an ending. Anything that would be good.

Posts were out there written by wives or loved ones going thru this same thing but the postings would just suddenly stop....

Nothing

My heart somehow seemed to guess the outcome but my brain refused to accept defeat.

The day after Henry died, a friend of the family stopped by with trays and platters of food. Friends had all pitched in to provide food for the people that would be stopping by.

Thick slices of slow cooked tenderloin. Thin slices of fresh salmon with lemon and capers.

Desserts. Meat and cold cut trays. Buns, breads

Fruits, vegetable trays, cheeses, crackers and endless lists of food to feed the masses of people that were to stop by in the days to come.

While everyone else feasted on these foods,

my friend discreetly pulled me aside and gave me some advice.....

"Lana, people are going to be watching you. Judging you. No matter what you say or do, it will be scrutinized and picked apart. What you wear and how your makeup looks each day for the next who knows how long will all be judged. Not because of any other reason than that you are now a widow and people will talk. Be careful."

What?

Holy Crap!

That all sounded horrific.

It also sounded sadly true.

Other friends offered advice of their own. These are actual texts from friends offering their best advice. I think I used each one. Those days were all a giant blur.

Wear low heeled shoes. Don't eat a heavy meal before the showing.

Don't eat fiber or you will have to use the bathroom too often. Don't drink water or you will be running to pee every 5 minutes. Bring mints. Chew gum. Bring lipstick.

Sit whenever possible.

Ask how did you know my husband to people you do not recognize.

Hug those you love. Shake the hands of those who you don't know. Excuse yourself and go to the ladies room any time you need to. Bring Wet-Wipes for your hands. Keep your chin up. Wear waterproof mascara. (L'Oreal Voluminous is amazing! I cried the equivalent of a river but my mascara stood up)

The day of the showing came. I had two black dresses I thought would be appropriate. One a Michael Kors for the showing and the other Alice & Olivia with long black gloves for the burial and funeral mass.

No low cut cleavage showing. No mini lengths. Nothing tight or too sexy. Nothing revealing. No flashy jewelry. No heavy cakey makeup.

I wore my hair straight and not too fancy. Just subtle and sad.

That was me.

Subtle and sad.

I arrived at the funeral parlor with it's old elaborate furnishings, velvet walls and spindely chairs 3 hours before the doors would open. I asked the funeral director to please lock the doors until the family was ready to receive. Ugh. Receive?

My son and daughter-in-law on each side of me, bracing me up. Giving me strength to see him again for the long day and evening to come.

I slowly approached the coffin where my husband was lying in state.

I couldn't wait to see him. He died on a Thursday and it was now Tuesday. I hadn't seen his face since he had died. I made the funeral home wait five hours to take his body from my house.

I didn't want to ever let him go....

I missed him so much. I was excited but scared shitless too.

One on each arm I was shaking. It seemed like a mile to walk the few steps to see him.

He seemed so at peace and looked so handsome. I had brought his wedding ring. His hands had become so swollen those last weeks that he had to remove it. I found it in his bureau in an envelope with the date he had removed it along with these words..... 5/27/2012 "From My Girl. * * * * * "

Those numbers. Those words.

Those words had reduced me to tears and sent me straight to bed for an entire day.

I slipped the ring back where I had placed it so many years ago at our wedding. It looked so right on his finger again. A band of gold with 5 diamonds.

Each diamond a word.

* * * * *

I Love You Very Much.

I* Love* You * Very *Much*

We signed every note we ever left each other with 5 dots.

* * * * *

I Love You Very Much

I bent to kiss his face and whisper how much I love him.

My tears fell like tiny drops of dew onto his face.

Dried up tears.

So many.

I knew he would carry them to eternity and it gave me some dreary kind of comfort. A part of me would forever be with him and since my heart was already there, it seemed right.

I was asked where I wanted to stand.

Near my husband so I could look at his beautiful face and gather strength to get thru this

The family was in place. The doors unlocked.

The people came in droves.

So many people.

So many beautiful stories of the kindness and good deeds or humorous things my husband did to touch so many lives. Each one a treasure. I keep them all in my heart and remember them even now.

The hardest ones to bear were from the young men that worked for him. Some were still working there but many had grown and gone on to bigger and better jobs. Each one came to me with tears and a hug to tell me what my husband did to change their lives for the better. Or a funny story to tell.

To see these grown men crying and missing him so much was very heart-warming yet difficult at the same time.

Hour upon hour the people came.

I knew my husband was wonderful but had no idea so many others did as well.

For nine straight hours they came and line went on and on....

My family and dear friends didn't leave me alone. I finally caught on.

I asked, "Are you all afraid I am a danger to myself or others. Is that why you stay?"

No, they replied, we are just concerned for you to be alone.

Henry had become so much of my life in the last year since his diagnosis that my life was his. I gave up being a CASA, working, YouTube, blogging, shopping, lunches with girlfriends, friends etc. that now that he was gone, I was at a complete loss. No more feeding thru that damn feeding tube every 2 hours. No more helping him shower, no more bandages. No more being caretaker. I would have done it all again for a thousand years if he could have just stayed....

The funeral and burial was to be tomorrow. More of the same.

Sadness and tears.

He Was All I Have

2012-07-04T06:24:00.001-04:00

Hello to all of you that have sent all of the amazing notes and to the ones that left me a Tweet or note here every day, I owe you big-time.
You have no idea how these notes got me thru these last months. I got where I actually looked forward to them. They were a tiny bright spot in an otherwise very dark time.
A thin thread to a different place.

When I was approached to write a book during my husbands treatments, I told the publisher that I wouldn't write about his passing but instead go back. All the way back to my life as a child.
It was a compromise.
I totally dropped the ball on my writings the last 4 - 5 months. My hands were full with caring for the love of my life. Who can write when their heart is being crushed. I stopped everything and devoted every second to my husband.
He is gone.
I cry just thinking of him.
I miss him so much it hurts like a physical pain.
I seem to hang at the cemetery.
I rake and clean and preen and decorate his gravesite.
Somehow it gives me comfort. I had to stop telling family and friends that I go there 3 times a day. Now they look at me funny as if I am loco.
Maybe I am.
It's like going to his place. It's all I have.
Someday soon I will write about it all. The
last months, the beautiful love we had, and his passing.
Right now, I am so raw inside it would come out as rambling jibberish.
Writing clears my thoughts. It's all I have.
Henry died the way he lived... His way.
If someone can die beautifully, he did.
I held him in my arms. He was all I have...

Take This Cancer and Shove It!

2011-10-06T10:52:00.000-04:00

Thursday
*sigh*
Not much happening here in this
cancer-rabbit-hole we fell into.
I like it like that.

My husband still can't sip water... Very well anyway.
Food? Forget about it. Can you imagine not eating even ONE bite of food for FOUR whole months? I can't.
(Food is my Friend)
He says water goes down but he's not sure if it stays there or if it's simply spit. So... I gave him a small amount of orange Gatorade to drink.
It went down and mostly 50% stayed down. Being orange-colored helped to sort out what it was he was spitting out.
He says he still feels something back there gagging him if/when he does swallow. Hmmm.
Is it a tumor?
Is it dead cancer?
Is it scar tissue?
Who knows, but he refuses to go see the Ear Nose and Throat doctor and I can see his point... to a point. All of my nudging and nagging get me no where.
(I've even threatened to use the Company Credit Card and go on an extravagant Shopping Spree again... Still nope.)
He says "Why test what you won't treat."
He just simply does not LOOK like a man with cancer any longer.

The dull grey coloring is gone. He has those pretty flushed cheeks and ruddy complexion back that made me fall in love with him.
He is no longer losing weight. I feed him every 3 hours 6 times a day. 6 cans of Isosourse canned liquid a day via his feeding tube.
He no longer coughs up blood.
He no longer has that raspy "hot potato" voice.
He is no longer so fatigued he can't move one step in front of another.
He has even been going to the office 2-3 hours a day.
You tell me.
Does that all sound like a sick and dying man?
No symptoms~~ no cancer, right?
So, we wait.
The PET Scan is scheduled for the end of November. That will tell the true story.
The truth, The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
It's still too early to do the PET Scan now as the radiation is still inside his body and he would light up like a nuclear reactor.
So... As I said, we wait.
Waiting has never been my strongpoint but we are learning to cope.
Life goes on and time waits for no man... or woman.

(Where did I put that Credit Card anyway?)

PS. I noted that Steve Jobs passed away.
RIP Steve Jobs.
He had the same rare Neuroendocrine cancer my husband has....
I feel a Scarlett O'Hara moment coming on again......

Today, I Am Scarlett O'Hara Again...

2011-09-29T17:45:00.001-04:00

Today is the day.
We have been walking around this house these last few days as nervous as two long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs.
So scared.
So worried. Praying and asking God and the doctors to give good news.
All of you (my little heartbeats) have been so wonderful and diligent.
So kind and supportive. We are no longer strangers. How can we be?
You were here with us thru this fight.
Pushing. Reading my words.
Praying.
I love you.
We both do.

We arrive at the oncologists office 5 minutes ahead of time. As I exit the car and slam the door behind me, I tell my husband...

"When we return to this car, we will be two completely different people. Our lives are about to change directions. Remember that as we climb back in to go to go on our way."
His look says it all. Kind of a "Oh Crap" look.
We enter the building arm in arm much as we did as we walked down the aisle of our cathedral after saying "I Do" at our wedding.

Both of us have been waffling at what the results of the scan will be.
One second...
It's going to be All Clear.
The very next half second...
It's going to be devastating news.
We check in and sit in the waiting room.
Time clicks by.
My heart beat quickens each time a new patient is called in. We sit and memories of radiation and chemo slip thru my mind. OUT! Those days were so grim and cold. Today is for positive not memories of painful treatments.
We are finally called.
We pass the oncologist in the hall.
He hugs us both in a warm bear-hug.
Wait.
Is that a good sign or a bad sign?
We are put into a holding room to wait some more. We try to analyze everything.
"Did he hug us because he knows we need to go choose funeral attire or did he hug us because he is about to give us happy news?" My husband asks me.
"Good grief, stop that. He hugged us because he ...."
My mind goes off that cliff.

The door opens and the doctors smiling face enters.
We both move the very edge of our seats.
He begins to ask random, mundane health questions.
"Get to the point. The Bottom line! Enough with the chit chat." I want to get right in his face and yell.
We've been waiting 6 days for this.
Finally, his words.
I melt.

All looks Clear.
You are in Partial Remission.

Come back in a month for another CT Scan, a Flex Scope, and a PET Scan in 2 months and we will know more. We can then see if it has spread or if it is all dead. Most of the tumors are gone but some are there and I hope inactive."

Enough said!
We Gone.
In my mind, we are out the door and escaping this place like a 2nd grader when she hears the bell ring for recess. RUN! School's out!
Freedom! Escape.
Back to the safety of our car and away from this place!

Not so fast, lady.
What the heck is "Partial Remission?
Isn't that somewhat like saying you are Kind of Pregnant?
Just like Scarlett O'Hara would do, I pick up my handbag and practically skip out the door. Fiddle dee dee.
"We'll think about that tomorrow."

The Countdown

2011-09-26T18:27:00.000-04:00

Monday Evening
Friday it began.
The countdown to Thursday.
To me, it's criminal to make a person wait 6 days to find out the results of the CT Scan taken on Friday.
This weekend was brutal. We did everything to keep our minds off it.
Gin Rummy.
A race to see who could complete the USA Today Crossword first. Watched old movies curled up together on the couch.
It didn't help at all. It's always there.
Haunting your mind.
Taking your breath away. One minute convinced the outcome will be perfect. Then in the next instant, dashed to depths of despair that it won't be.
Our appointment on Thursday is at 10:00 and I may not have any eyelashes left by then from stress and worry.
You see, this test will show if the cancer is gone or not. Did the treatments work? All of the pain and trauma? Will it be good news?
So, basically, we will get a
"You will live" or a "You will not live"
verdict.
Sometimes I can't even wrap my mind around that.
To look at dying so close and personal?
Someone asked me in the comments about Henry's anti-nausea medicine. Is the dose strong enough?
It's not that sadly.
It's when he tries to swallow. Tries to brush his teeth, sip water.
He says he gags.
The tiniest sip of water goes down then comes right back up.
(He hasn't drank water or eaten by mouth in over 3 months)
He says he feels something back there and it chokes him.
(I cringe just writing these words down)
My hope is that it's dead cancer stuck back there. Cancer that was killed by the radiation. Cancer just stuck there doing nothing but being dead.
Please be DEAD! Please don't show up on a CT Scan as alive!

The doctor's words are our future.
I wonder if I will whoop in glee or melt into a puddle of crying blubber on the floor of the office.
If this is this hard for ME... Imagine how it must feel to be Henry?
I can't even.
So... We wait.
We continue to play cards, do the crossword and watch movies with Thursday, 10:00 on our minds.....

Living In Purgatory

2011-09-22T15:58:00.000-04:00

Today
Thursday Sept 22
I drug my laptop out to the front porch on this beautiful autumn day to write this.
Dappled sunlight peeking thru the almost century old trees in the front yard. Light breeze. Crisp air
You can almost smell fall's impending arrival today. Fall is my 3rd least favorite season.
Everything is dying....

My Mother-In-Law passed away.
Our good friend with brain cancer did too.
My husband and I didn't even attend either funeral. Not that we didn't care or want to be there to show support and say good-bye to these two wonderful souls....
You see, the day they died, My poor husband was battling his own illness and was crouched once again in front of the lavatory puking his guts up. His blood values so poor that hugging or shaking the hands of loved ones that did come to pay their respects would have and could have been deadly.
Infection.
I truly think his Mom wouldn't have minded a bit that we weren't there for her on that last day. Our friend wouldn't have cared either.
Funerals and graveyards and sadness. They are my envelope these days and if I don't put that stamp on them and seal them up tight, what does it even matter? It doesn't.
September 15th came and went but the appointments to check and scan and scope didn't happen for us. My husband refused.
He hasn't given up, he simply doesn't want to know or deal.
I have been nudging him more as each day passes.
"We really ought to make a phone call to see what is happening with you."
Limbo is a fabulous place to be but some days it is more like Purgatory. Not knowing what next month or next week or tomorrow or even 30 minutes from now will be is no good way to live.
Last Saturday I had reached my absolute limit.
My curling iron took the brunt of it and now looks more like the letter "C" than any kind of hair styling tool since I banged it over and over and over on my vanity table until it was DEAD.
Repeating over and over with each blow the word
DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD.
My heart feels dead. My mother in law is dead.
Our lives and our future seems dead.
Do I exaggerate? Too much Drama?
Ha~
Try it for a week.
Live it for a month.
Experience it with a loved one.
I feel like we are living in a pressure cooker and the lid blew straight off the top on Saturday.
I get so many notes and phone calls from amazing friends that say,
"Just hire someone. Pay a nurse to come feed him via the tube for a day or even two. Hire someone to give him his meds and clean up the puke and do what you are doing daily. Get out of that house!
Go LIVE!"
Ya, right.... How in the name of God do you PAY to have someone hold your husbands hand or rub his shoulders as he hurls up two days of meals? Will someone that doesn't truly love him bother to wipe his mouth and give him comfort when he's hurting?
How do you PAY to have a nurse LOVE your man for you?
My answer, at least for me... You don't.

I did what any red blooded American wife would do in time of crisis and frustration.
I took the credit card and Went Shopping!
Boy, did I shop. It felt so good. So wrong yet so right.
I returned home after a 2 hour binge at the mall.
It was my version of Shopping Fast and Shopping Furious.
Sephora, Saks, Neiman Marcus, Macy's.
Pure Bliss and forgetfulness and racks and shelves of normalcy.

You know how you lay in bed in the quiet of the night right before you go to sleep but instead you and your spouse talk?
Some of our best talks are at that time. Heart to heart in-depth talks.
Two nights ago, holding hands in the dark, we made the decision to finally call the doctors in two weeks and get the ball rolling once again. See what and where we are in this disease.
Is the cancer gone?
Two weeks.

The phone rang yesterday morning.
It was the oncologist's office.
"We have you scheduled for your scans on Friday after blood work at the lab. Be there at 12:45. Expect the scans to last 4 hours. Then, you have an appointment on Thursday the 29th with the doctor to discuss your results."
Friday.
Tomorrow.
We will have the results on Thursday, next week.
I think we both want to rush back to the safe cocoon of our ignorance now that it's out of our hands.
I WILL get him to that appointment tomorrow.
I will!
We are both so Nervous. Anxious. Fearful.
Fingers Crossed.....

Let's Do the Limbo Dance

2011-09-13T08:59:00.000-04:00

Good Morning.
Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I have no excuse except my life is not my own anymore and at the end of each day, I am usually too tired or too emotionally drained to write my own name.

Besides, there's not much happening in the way of new information that would or could help anyone going thru this nightmare.
I have made a point to take at least one hour each day and either go for a walk or go to the gym to punch a punching bag or do something so simple and delightful as visit a friend.
The 15th of September is fast approaching. The 15th is the day we are to go get the Flex-Scope to look and see what is happening in the throat that we so recently burned to a crisp to kill the cancer and anything else in it's path.
But.... Here is where it comes down to choices. Not MY choices but my husbands. It is, after all his life and illness.

He wants to do absolutely nothing.
Nothing.
No tests or scopes or scans or needles or IV fluids or blood transfusions. No shots or pills or rinses.
No more medications.
No doctors.
No appointments.
Nothing.
At first, I raved at him like a lunatic.

WHY?
What do you mean do nothing?
"ARE YOU CRAZY?"
I am one of those people that learned a thing or two from watching Dr. Phil.
My philosophy is:
"I'd rather be Happy than Right"
I don't need to be right. I'd rather be happy. Being right all the time isn't me. I can be wrong too. I am not a control freak in any way but I was going to fight this one to the bitter end!
In tears and in a rage I stood my ground.
Face red. Hair in tangles and fists clenched.
This side of hysterical.

"Yes, you ARE going to scans and scopes and appointments. I'll drag your sorry ass all over town but we ARE and we will! Are you hearing me, Mister?"
We were NOT going to do nothing.
Nope. No way. Not an option.

Then out of the blue I got this note from a beautiful YouTube Subscriber:

Hi

Just wanted to let you know that you aren't alone with this cancer thing. My dad was diagnosed last year with poorly differentiated carcinoma. Pretty much the same thing your husband has, but different wording. My dad, at the age of 58 noticed a growth on his tonsils. He went to have it checked out, which is when the doctors decided to remove his tonsils and do a biopsy. The say the older you get the worse the recovery is for having your tonsils removed. Tis a true statement. The biopsy came back stating my dad had cancer. They immediately started chemo twice a week and radiation 5 days a week (as I'm sure you know EKG's and whatnot). My dads whole face and neck was blistered. He was constantly spitting of that mucus stuff you were mentioning. He couldn't eat, he couldn't drink, he could barely sleep. I've never seen my father be as thin as he was. The pain pills he was on, made him hallucinate. It was terrifying and I really thought I was going to lose my father. He pulled through it though. He last step was to go get a final test to see if the treatments worked. Being the stubborn man he was. He refused. The doctors told him if the treatments didn't work, the next step was to do a massive surgery on his neck and jaw, removing part of the jaw and going in and removing the cancer, as well as additional chemo and radiation. My dad said that wasn't an option. He said he rather not know if he still has it. He said if he has it, then he will die from it, but he rather not live the rest of his life knowing that is what will lay him to rest.

Anyway, I rambled enough, but just know you are not alone and I know what you are going through. I hope for the best for you two and I hope your husband stays strong!

I read this note 5 times. I read it to my husband. He made me read it again nodding to each word in the entire note.

We did everything we were told to do to this point.

We failed at nothing.

No matter what the scopes and scans and tests reveal, my husband won't do the surgery (Can you blame him?) So why?

It's up to God.

So, we are sitting in Limbo Land doing the Limbo Dance and that's fine.

In a month, I will gently nudge him to move in that direction but for now....

I would rather be happy than right.

Limbo cool limbo fine

Ev'rybody gets a chance

Clap your hands it's party time

Do the limbo dance

Let's go on a holiday

(let's go to jamaica)

Fly in to montego bay

(let's go to jamaica)

Maybe find a hideaway

(let's go to jamaica)

We can limbo on the sand

To a steel drum band

Limbo cool limbo fine

Ev'rybody gets a chance

Come on and move your body down

Do the limbo dance

Limbo cool limbo fine

Ev'rybody gets a chance

Clap your hands it's party time

Do the limbo dance

You will hear the limbo song

(when you're in jamaica)

You'll be dancin'all night long

(when you're in jamaica)

We can party on and on

(when you're in jamaica)

We can limbo on the sand

To a steel drum band

Nothing Left Today

2011-09-04T11:06:00.000-04:00

Sunday
Today, I am writing this because I have a break. Two minutes.
I have had so many notes and letters and calls wondering "Why no blog post?"
"Is everything ok?"
No. Not really. It's not.

My husband is better one day and then bottoms out the next. Two trips to the ER. IV fluids every Thursday and blood work.
Vomiting.
Diarrhea one day
Constipation the next.
Did I say vomiting?
Anti-nausea meds and Murilax.
Which is it today? Vomiting.

Blood results call for blood transfusions.Hemoglobin is as low as it gets.
6-8 hours in the Emergency Room.
New blood. Thank You to whoever donated this blood. Who are you?

My Mother in law is dying.
My heart is breaking.
Will I ever stop crying?

I can't go next door to see her. I have nothing left. Zero.
I feel so guilty. My mother in law is like the mom I never had to me and I can't see her like this. I can't spare one second of heartache to give her?
I feel so numb and empty today. Hopeless.

My son just called. His girlfriend left him. He told me he wants to starve himself to death.
I just hung up on him. My heart is wrung out to the last drop.
Tomorrow will be better, right?

What a Day

2011-08-25T13:50:00.000-04:00

Thursday 5:00 a.m.
I am writing this in complete darkness on my iPad on 3G.
How did we ever get by in life without 3G?

Now that treatments are over and we are "Out to Pasture" I finally made an appointment to get my hair done. Nasty looking roots and scruffy hair. Who am I these days?
I needed a three hour window between feeding tubes, bandage dressings, pills and just being "nurse" and was really looking forward to today.
To go to a salon and forget for three hours and be pampered. *sigh

My three hour hair appointment was going to be like Heaven. Escape.
3 hours in a beauty salon... New sights and smells and people becoming beautiful. Beautiful hasn't been in my vocabulary at all lately. I feel a mess. No feeding tubes or bandages or nausea here... As soon as my sister Karen applies the color to my hair and the foil wraps I take two minutes to call home.
The phone rings. I almost hang up worried that I will have woken him and sleep is so precious right now. It comes and goes for him in 3-5 minute intervals. The mucus is like the Spawn of Satan waiting there to choke or drown.
One more ring and I'm going to hang up and fly out the door foils and all and go check on him. I can peek in the window and just see and know he's alright.

He answers in a sad little croak. "Hello?"
"How are you? Are you ok?" I ask with a load of apprehension sitting on me like a brick bat.
"I'm fine. He answers back but I can tell, Something isn't fine.
"What is it? I can tell by your voice something's up, now spill it. Spill it now!"

I tell him with so much authority.
When did I become so authoritative?
He knows I mean business so he tells me.
"I found a lesion on my tongue. It's small but it hurts."
My heart just sinks and I swear I feel every foil on my head go limp.
A sore on his tongue could mean this stuff is spreading. Already? Treatment just ended on Monday. Does this and can this metastasize so quickly? Not going there. I am being and living and EATING positivity these days. Eating it for breakfast lunch and dinner.
"I'm on my way out the door" I screech into the phone. My voice so high pitched I don't even recognize that it's me once again in panic mode.
"I'm fine Lana. Just relax and then check it when you get back. I shouldn't have told you" he says so weakly into the phone, his voice so tired.

My day at the salon just turned not so fun and I asked Karen to step it up. It's finished and looks fine.
It's hair.
I race home. There is a storm brewing.
Big dark evil looking clouds fill the afternoon sky as I pull into the garage.
I run in the house throwing my handbag and heels to the side like they are enemies and get to work.
I check out this lesion. It's there but not as horrible as I had imagined on the drive home.
I will call the doctor tomorrow or as soon as this storm rages itself out. The wind is picking up and lightning strikes are everywhere outside. The world seems to be groaning in response to my fear of lesions and bad hair.
I set out to feed Henry his meal via his feeding tube. Sometimes I feel like I have a 3 month baby to care for, but as moms we don't mind feedings etc. It's what we do.
Te phone rings as soon as I flush the tube with water and shut it. It's my son telling me to watch the weather reports. It's getting worse outside by the minute.Sheets of sideways rain, hail and wind.
I run to gather candles and flashlights as the dark sky menaces and the wind howls.
I hear a limb crack off the 75 year old trees in the front yard.
The power flickers then goes off with a crack of nearby lightning then goes off.
Total darkness.

My husband is pacing in circles and I can see in the dim light of the flashlight that he is looking the color of a rotten green egg and says he feels nauseous.
My cell phone rings.
It's my mother in law's nurse. Her oxygen is run by electric and the power has been cut off by the storm. Can I come next door and help her? The reserve portable tanks are there and full of precious air but she can't get them running.

Are you serious right now?

I can hear the hail as it bounces off the skylights. :Ping

Lightning strikes are coming faster by the second. The storm intensifies and so does my husbands nausea.
My husband is on his knees puking into the guest powder room toilet. The storm is raging.
Who and what do I do first?
This rescue of my mother in law's oxygen supply has been practiced and rehearsed many times by her in the last 6 months. She lives in constant fear of the power going out and her oxygen being cut off.
She will panic and I know it. She's 95 and very ill herself.
She's 95.
At 95 years old you get one thing in your mind and that's all that's there. Her oxygen situation. She dwells upon it.
Daily.

I asked her once, "Sally, if there's a full on tornado going on and your power goes out, what do you want me to do?"
I truly dreaded her answer. She's 95 you know.
"Why Lana, you come over and get my portable oxygen going for me!"
Simple as that, huh?
Just open the door and do I run over on foot or drive my car? Which is safer in a tornado?

I check on my husband in the weak light of the flashlight. I give him cold washcloths for his mouth and get him settled back into his chair. He's ok just wracked by the heaves to his sore damaged throat and the newly filled feeding tube. Hurling with all that is so painful and traumatic.

I grab my big umbrella.
The storm has not let up one bit.

I brace myself, count to three and run the 200 yards to my Mother In Law's house. My new hair-do or the fear of lightning hitting the umbrella? I throw the umbrella aside and make a dash. Run!
Her oxygen is off, the house is pitch black and the girl we hired to care for her is scared to death. Of the storm or the lack of Sally's oxygen I don't know which.
Her hands are shaking. I can't see her face in the pitch darkness but I can sense her fear.
I get her oxygen running and do most of it by memory in the dark as the storm rages on outside. Done.

Now back home I race across the yard that separates our two houses to check on Henry.
He looks so wan and weak. Pale and puny.
Tomorrow we go for blood work and IV fluids to hopefully give him some pep in his step.
Still no electricity.

10:45 a.m. Thursday
We arrive at the chemo infusion clinic with no showers and half brushed teeth. Mussed up hair and yesterday's clothes on. All this from a girl that would apply blush just to go out to get the mail.
We sit in a private infusion room. No more 3G today as I write this down in my blog. The Chemo clinic has power!
My blog has become my lifeline to the outside of this cancerous world we have found ourselves dumped in to.
Storms are over.

Graduation Day

2011-08-22T14:59:00.000-04:00

Monday
7:00 a.m.

Today is the day!
All weekend we have both been repeating "One More Day" with giant smiles. (Well, my face was a smile, my husbands more of a fake sad grin, to keep me happy)
One more treatment today and then this torture ends.
No more Mask.
No more radiation.
No more chemo.
One more day. Today. It ends....

My husband hasn't been sleeping in bed.
He has to sleep sitting straight up these last few days since the mucus is so thick in his throat. He has no saliva anymore so this thick stringy stuff just collects like rope in the back of his throat and it chokes him.
Every 3 minutes he must spit it out and when I say it's like rope, that's no exaggeration. It's thick, stringy and will choke a horse.

If he slips and lays too far down, I can hear him choke and each breath is like dragging a car down the drive with no tires. I wake up with a start when I hear him gasping and think
"Breathe, breathe, exhale....wait.......
Inhale...Wait.... exhale..... Inhale.... Wait...Breathe, dammit breathe!"
I can hear that stuff caught there and air has no chance to penetrate it.
Gross? Youbetcha. I can stand vomit or blood... Mucus and spit? Thick and slimy?
Not so much.

I wake up and stagger to the living room in the still dark pre-dawn of morning and find a very pale, weak, sad looking husband sitting upright in his favorite lounger. Wide awake.
I remind him... "One More Treatment" with a shaky grin.

No?
He shakes his head. His voice is completely gone now.
He looks like something the dog drug in from the back yard.
How can he possible put on that dreaded mask, be clamped to the table flat on his back and lie there without moving for 40 minutes thru one last radiation treatment and not choke to death.
Does ONE more treatment matter in the grand scheme of things?
Probably not but I gently remind him that we can and will get thru this last one. One more.
10:00 a.m.

We leave and arrive at the clinic.
I am so fearful they will tack on some surprise additional treatments but they don't.
Our parole begins today.
They call his name. I sit and wait. The time seems to be dragging. What is going on in there? Is he choking to death on that crap?
I hear a siren wailing in the background. Is that coming here or to the hospital right next door?

I feel as tho I took one giant breath as I entered this building and am afraid to take another. Time is crawling. I know they give him a safety buzzer if he is in trouble but geez, this is a man that never ever complains.
Tick tock... One minute is an eternity.
Finally, I see him turn the corner and his sad little face tells me he is done.
It's over.
No more treatments.
My eyes well up with tears at the thought. I told him I would drag him thru this. Neither of us is pretty but we did it!

Now what happens?
The other patients all call it "Getting put out to pasture"
They send you home and you wait. Wait to get poked and prodded and then scanned for a recurrence.
The chemo stays in your body several days but radiation takes about a month so to scan now would all show up as red hot inflammation from the burning and searing of the radiation.

As I am writing this, our phone rings several times. It seems the word is already out. Our initial doctor's office calls to schedule an appointment for a flex-scope in 4 weeks. The radiation clinic calls for a follow up in two weeks just so see how he is progressing. The chemo clinic calls to schedule an appointment for an infusion of IV fluids on Thursday.
We may be in the pasture now but it's not going to be all rosy.
The feeding tube must remain in place.
If anyone reading this is or will be going thru this or helping a loved one, I plead with you... Implore you and encourage you to get the G-Tube and get it in place before treatment begins. To do it after, you will not have the energy to do so.
It has saved my husbands life.
He has lost 40 pounds but would have probably lost double that without it.
Also, it helps to get pills and water in via the tube. My husband stopped drinking or even sipping water a week ago. I am told he will have to go thru therapy to re-learn how to eat and drink. His muscles have probably locked up. (I know that feeling. My heart locked up about 2 months ago)
So, for now we are out to pasture and I am glad to be there. We have a month of innocent oblivion. We don't know a thing and for now, I'm happy about that.
Recurrence is now our enemy.
We hear so many people that have treatment then say after the first scan, "I beat it. I'm cancer Free!"

Not so fast...
Since entering this nightmare and learning more than I ever wanted to know about cancer, I have discovered that you are only as good as your last scan.
Recurrence.
We won this battle. We made it thru the treatment.
Now we must win the war.
Recurrence, keep your smelly ass outta here!

Harm

2011-08-15T20:14:00.002-04:00

OMG OMG OMG
Monday
10:00 a.m.
Radiation Clinic

Today, while waiting the 45 minutes for Henry to complete his radiation treatment for the day (5 more to go. Yippeee.) there was a couple waiting on the ugly hard chairs in the corner of the clinic. I noticed them right away as the automatic door slid shut behind us with a whoosh as we entered the clinic.
Why is that so remarkable? Why was this couple so special to catch my eye? This man was probably 45 years old and at first glance, I knew.

I knew he had the same kind of disease my husband has.
His neck was distorted and jawbone was gone.
His face was scarred and to some would say scary.
I was like a 3 year old kid and couldn't keep my eyes from slinking over to that corner, not to stare but to get up the nerve to ask what and how and why and.....
Our friends, the one that has brain cancer, walked in and I saw my opportunity to speak to this couple fading away.
We had a few pleasant words of weekend activities and his progress with his brain cancer but I know I was being rude in my distraction. My scope of attention was not on them but on the man with the neck surgery that sat in the corner.
Time was slipping away.
My opportunity was passing.

I finally excused myself and walked over to the corner and introduced myself.
You have to understand one thing about a Cancer Clinic.
No one cares or feels invaded by questions. We are all in this exclusive private club that requires a stamped membership card. A membership that no one wants to be in but we all are. It's almost an unspoken pact that we can share and explain and ask questions of each other and their cancer. It's almost expected somehow. It's part of the Club Rules.
Sharing is Caring.

How do you approach and ask a disfigured person the details of his pain? How do you ask him to tell you things you have to date only read about on the internet? This was like being in a foreign country and finally seeing another American to speak to. A sense of camaraderie in a sick twisted way.
I began.
I explained my husband just went in for his treatment and has stage IV High Grade 4 throat cancer and I noticed his surgery scars.
This gentleman was amazing. He answered every question I asked. He explained the hows and whys and what to expect.
His wife was with him and explained to me the trauma of seeing her husband after a 16 hour surgery to dissect her husbands neck and throat and the horror she felt when she saw him in recovery. He told me about the stares and questions he gets from the public.
After a 20 minute conversation, he told me why he is here.
Why he is back in the radiation clinic?

You see, you can only have ONE series of treatments of radiation to your neck and throat. The spinal cord is so close to the area they are radiating. I can see the lines of demarkation where the radiation is burning and searing my husbands skin. It is like a severe sunburn all around to the back.
I follow the burn lines around to the back. There is about an inch space along the backbone that has no burns but wow, they are so close. Too much and you could be paralyzed for life. *sigh*
This young man's cancer had returned.
It was back with a vengeance.
It was now in his lung and bones and brain. He said he had found a huge tumor on his back that morning. A new one.
Radiation at this point for him is palliative. Palliative meaning only to prolong life for a short time and keep the patient as comfortable as possible for as long as possible.
Have you ever wanted to hug a complete stranger? Have you ever had your heart break from someone else's sad sad story?

My questions were answered.
My answers were already answered by husband at the beginning of this horrible journey. He refuses the surgery 100%.
I have been asked by so many from the beginning.
"Why not do surgery at the beginning of this nightmare and just cut the tumor OUT?"
That sounds so easy.
No risk of spinal cords and burns and pain. No chemo. No nausea. None of that.
The reason we can't go that route?
When a patient has a cancerous tumor, the surgeon must be able to cut it out and the margins beside it. The margins are all of the surrounding areas nearby. The surgeon will cut out the tumor and keep at it and at it, cutting until he gets clear tissue and then more to be assured all of the tumor is gone. You must have good margins to remove a tumor.
In your throat and neck, that area is so very small and tight that it is nearly impossible to get those margins.
My husband not only has a huge tumor in the back of the throat but many large tumors in the neck and lymph. Impossible.
Once the tumors have shrunk I just know the doctors will want to discuss that as an option. Surgery.

Take out the tongue, voice box, thyroid, jaw bones, muscles, teeth, omg. I can't even write more of that thought process.

I went to see my grandkids yesterday. Three little medicine balls of fun they are.
My son prays with them every night before bed. He asks God to keep his family safe and to keep harm away from his family and his home.
My middle Grand daughter, Kennedi asked with big blue eyes wide,
"Daddy, Who is Harm and why is he coming to OUR house?"
I pray to keep harm away from all of YOU.
All of you that are here with us on this journey. We are amazed and feel so blessed by all of your thoughts and love and prayers.
These days I write my blog and can not see for the tears flooding my eyes. I write it to put my heart and thoughts out there for my family and friends. All of you. You push me. You push us both. I feel you there. We both do. I love you.

Dear God,
Please keep harm away from all of us. Please keep harm away from my old friends and all of my new friends
and all of our families.
Amen

Treatment is NOT for Sissys

2011-08-09T12:39:00.001-04:00

Tuesday
10:00 a.m.
Today we go to the Radiation clinic as usual.
My husband's throat on the inside burns like fire. On the outside, it looks like he's been in a fire. The fires of Hell.

I would love to show you a picture, but after snapping a very graphic photo of it with my iPhone, I realize that it's so horribly ugly and mean looking that others that may read this blog for advice or searching for answers for a loved one going through this exact treatment might scare them so badly that they will not take the treatments at all.
It's bad, really really bad.
The skin has gotten so dry and cracked and seeping blood and that is on the outside. Weeping. I can't even imagine what it looks like or feels like from the inside.
(I will never complain of a sore throat again in my life)

Sipping water has gotten to be a real challenge and so much pain that I see him wince as he swallows. One sip. He tries to hide it from me but I see it and have to leave the room.
He still has his pride.
I continue to have great hope here but today we were told not to take the radiation treatments for 3 days to allow this area to heal. The doctor told us today that the skin will get worse. Much worse.
It's like someone laid out in the sun with only their neck exposed for 10 solid years with no sunscreen. We are given so many prescriptions for pain: Mary's Magic Mouthwash, Lidocaine Elixir, Esophagitis Elixir, Lortab pills, Lortab Elixir. All are liquids to go into the G-tube or pills to be crushed.

The skin is purple, broken, dry and seeping.
We are sent home.

Counting the days until this is over and these last 9 treatments may either make him or break him.

Meet The Mask~

This is the Dreaded Mask my husband hates so much. The mask is necessary to get exact pinpoint results for the beams to hit their targets.
They form-fit the mask very close to your face then place it on you. You can not move or blink your eyes. Then, they clamp you and the mask to the table, chain your arms to your sides and treatment begins. No movement.
35 - 40 minutes. 17 different angles.
My husband is very claustrophobic and despises this damn thing.
I would too.

9 more radiation treatments and two more rounds of chemo then we play the waiting game...
Let's not go there today. Recurrence and surgery options have become like swear words to me. I refuse to have them in my house or near my brain.
Cutting off your entire bottom jaw, tongue, voice box and half your neck? Nuh-uh. Not thinking about that today.

There is a man we know that we see every day at the radiation clinic.
He has brain cancer. It's odd how he found out that he had it.
He was in a restaurant and had this overwhelming need to flee.
Some super-anxiety attack? No.
It happened several more times in the week that followed. He would be out or even at home sitting in a chair and this horrible anxiousness and fear to run would completely take over and he would literally run away.
Then the seizures came so he went to see his family doctor. They did the scans, PET, CAT and MRI scans and found he had a tiny pea sized tumor on his brain.
Why the fears and anxiousness? The tumor was on the part of the brain that signals "Flight or Fight." Adrenaline would go into overdrive and he would feel as though he was in a burning building. His urge to flee would provoke such fear. Complete fear.
They removed the tumor but told him his chances of survival are 0%.
This isn't just some random man that we know but a friend. My husband has known him since grade school.

We have the next few days to heal and wait. Then those last nine treatments and two chemo rounds face us.
After that, the waiting begins....

Epic Fail

2011-08-04T19:09:00.000-04:00

Thursday
9:30 a.m.
You know how I now feel about Thursdays. Total torture all wrapped up into a 10 hour day.
Blood Lab.
Radiation.
Chemo for 6 1/2 hours.

Today began as the last three chemo/Thursdays began. Up and feed "Franklin" 15 mg. Valium in the feeding tube at 7:30 to be good and onboard for the dreaded mask.
Apply the Lidocane at 8:30 to numb the port for the IV.
Be at the blood lab by 9:30.
Walk to the radiation clinic for 45 minutes of red-hot skin-shredding beams of radiation then back to the infusion clinic for chemo. (How is it I now know what an "Infusion Clinic" is anyway?)
61/2 hours of chemo then drag my poor man home and put him to bed and hope he doesn't hurl.

Today was an Epic Fail from the start.

I feed "Franklin" and add the Valium.
Out the door and I drive to the Blood Lab. We wait.
I love the Hurry up and wait process. It's much like a busy airport, huh?
They call him in and the phlebotomist is new. She takes blood via the numbed port but then takes the IV out! Grrr. It should remain there for the Chemo drug so not to be stuck twice.
Blood taken and down the elevator to rush to the Radiation Clinic.
Guess What? It's broken AGAIN! Did you hear that silent Yippeeee! From my husband. We both breathe a bit of a sigh of relief. I know... It's not doing any good if the treatment isn't administered but I think a radiation-break is in order. The skin around the neck and throat are almost purple and peeling, swollen this morning so yay, Yippeeee!
We head to the Chemo building for the Cisplatin. Fun.
We get there and of course, wait.
This time they tell us we are waiting on lab reports.
We are ushered into a room to speak to a Nurse Practitioner. You guessed it. The blood values were all wrong. Low platelets, low white and red blood counts. Bad BUN and Creatinine. Am I so wrong to be happy to be a FAIL???
It's like we got a hall pass for the day. Freedom!

I am going to tell you of a fail of a different kind today.
Last night I had a 2 year old melt down. My youngest grand daughter and I have much in common, it seems. When she is mad or frustrated or doesn't get her way, what does she do? She rears herself back, her face turns red and she melts it down like a pro. She's not quite two years old.
Last night I became Tenley in the most childish way. Let me tell you this is like living in a pressure cooker
( Insert lame excuse right here)
Our lives have been turned upside down and inside out and rolled over with a 12 ton bus and 15 Mack Trucks.
It happens.
It completely got ahold of me last night and I lost it. Lost it right in the middle of the kitchen. I felt as tho I couldn't go on for another minute without exploding so I did. I did it right but did it wrong.
I raged inside and then for 3.2 seconds I had the most delicious wonderful feeling as I took my MacBook Pro and dashed it to the ground and watched it as it broke apart in to a hundred electronic pieces on the ceramic floor.

As I said, for 3.2 seconds it felt so right. It felt so medicinal. So Deliciously evil.
When the anger and rage and horror of what I had just done wore off.... I wasn't feeling so good again but I cried and raged inside. Got rid of it and felt regret as I looked at the pile that once was my laptop.
Not regret for my broken laptop but regret for my broken husband and our broken lives. I had visions of how I could take this cancer and dash it to the ground in the meanest, ugliest, wretched way and watch it break into a million bits and be gone forever to be thrown away.
3.2 seconds of sheer glee. If only.
Oh, to be two years old again....

The Question:

2011-08-03T19:57:00.000-04:00

Wednesday
7:30 p.m.
Each day is getting more brutal.
My husbands throat is sore and bleeding again.
His neck is red and looks like he was beat with a red hot poker.
Bright Red and looks mean.

We were told two weeks from today is the last radiation treatment (Unless something goes awry)
That's 10 more days of Radiation.
It's getting more and more difficult as each day goes by. A simple sip of water is like entering the gates of hell.
I have never known anyone so brave in my life.
All of my friends and everyone I know. Family. Everyone. They all tell me I have been amazing thru this. I haven't been. I cringe inside when they say that to me. How do you respond?
What do you say? "Thank You?"
No.
I have just done exactly what I know he would have done and would do for me if the situation was reversed. "Til Death do us Part. For Richer and For Poorer.
In Sickness and in Health."

Tonight.
Tonight was the worst day of all.
My husband looked me in my eyes. Looked at me all the way down to my soul and whispered out one simple question.

"Am I dying?"
I can't write more. Tears and anguish. Fear. Heartache.
Tears.

Where did I Go?

2011-07-31T10:41:00.000-04:00

It's Sunday.
I am usually one to go by schedules and plans and precise time lines.
What's on the agenda today?
What is the plan for the week?
Down to the minute.
You know the drill. We all do that. I no longer know what I am doing day to day or even minute to minute. Our lives are appointments, feeding tubes and clinics, prescriptions, needles and doctors and blah blah blah.

I literally Googled: "What are our lives going to be?"
What came up was "Days of Our Lives" Soap Opera.
Where have our lives gone? I mean our real lives with plans and dreams and events. Parties. Galas.
Yesterday, I went looking for Lana.
Where did she go?
I checked under the beds. I looked in my closet.
Hey! I know these clothes. Chanel, Roberto Cavalli, and Jean Paul Gaultier. Who wears them now? I certainly don't!
I am all about sweatsuits and casual shoes.
I once wrote a blog about coming back off that ledge and not falling into the trap of being a slob.
Meet slob extraordinaire. Ha! Do I care? No. Life isn't handbags and shoes but it's love and support. Health and being there for someone that needs you so badly just to get thru the day.

One thing I know for certain... If I had this disease, I would have opted out.
Opted Out.
I'm not that brave. I'm not that strong.
I'm not that person to depend on anyone for so much.

We have a good friend that needs a heart/lung transplant and has 2 small children. He's 36 years old. Instead of living his life and loving his time left here on Earth, he sits and waits for those organs in a hotel near a hospital 1500 miles away from his wife and his kids.
Waits for someone to die for him to live. A second chance.
4 months have passed and still he sits alone and waits....
That's his choice to do, but for me, I would cherish each day with my family. That's just me. I'm a chicken. I prefer quality over quantity and that goes with my life as well.
Cut my days short by a year, just give me one good week to love and hold and cherish those that I love. Quality.

Friday at the Radiation Clinic I met a new friend. Maureen. She buried her husband on their 48th wedding anniversary. He had throat cancer. (My heart lurched then broke)
Why is she now in the oncology clinic? She was his caretaker for those 18 months that it took for him to die. Now 7 months later, SHE has cancer. Breast cancer.
She was with him when he went thru radiation and chemo. Fed him thru a feeding tube. Suffered right along with him. The cancer returned. They did a total throat and neck resection and removed his jaw, tongue, teeth, larynx.. everything in the neck. Surgery. She was by his side thru it all.

Time passed. It came back once more. Returned to his bones this time.
I didn't know this but bone cancer is the most painful of cancers and no medication can cut that pain. Morphine does nothing. She said for the last 4 months of his life, he screamed and cried, yelled and begged for pain relief for hours in a day. He slept on the hard floor to ease the pain a bit. Her words broke my heart. How did she cope? How did she manage? How did she get thru this? Just writing this down hurts me and all I was was a concerned ear to listen to her. I can't even fathom what she did and how she did it.
This conversation was an interesting one in that several other caretakers of loved ones joined in as we waited for our significant others to be radiated.
Here we were, 6 to 8 of us discussing our loved ones and how to cope. How to get them thru each day as comfortable and healthy as possible.

One beautiful young wife said something to us all that shocked me to my core but didn't seem to phase anyone else there.
She told us all "I have been stockpiling all of the pain medicine that I can. My husband never wants it after a surgery or procedure so I stash it. I have a lot. When the time comes for him to be in that condition, and I will know when that is, I will crush those pills up and "assist" him. I will crush them up and put them into his feeding tube."
WHAT?
"That's Murder!" I exclaimed loudly. No No No!
Those words were out of mouth in a nanosecond! All eyes turned to look at me. My heart dropped. What did I say? Was I wrong to say that? Isn't that murder? No way could or would I ever do that! I can't even wrap my brain around that thought.
My new friend Maureen took my hand and gently said to me "You'd be surprised what you can or will do. You would do this for your dog or cat. The suffering is worse than you can imagine. Pain pills wouldn't have helped my husband's pain but if they would have, I would have done anything. Anything. They will just know he died of Chronic Cancer."
I recoiled in horror.
I wanted to scream and run away and never look back. I felt for that two minute conversation that I was 4 years old again and so scared. Eyes wide. Tears streaming down my face. No one to turn to. No one to ask for advice. I can't do this anymore.
Thankfully, from the corner of my eye I see my husband slowly approaching. His treatment is over for the day.
I want to run up to him and hold on and never let him go. I'm not going to tell him about Maureen or crushed pills or any of the horror of that conversation.
I am going to run home and look under the beds again for Lana. She's around here somewhere, I just know it....