The last one standing.....
......is me.
January 2, 1944 to April 17, 2012. (Photo by BobbaLew — this is about 40 years ago, but is the person I’ve visualized ever since.)
Here it is. The blog I hoped I’d never have to write, but knew I’d probably have to.
The headline and lede have been in my head for years.
My wife of 44 years has “passed;” hospice-speak for “died.”
We didn’t expect this.
We thought I would go first.
My wife was made of sturdier stock than me.
Her mother, age 96, is still alive and will probably make 100. She’s very spry.
Just about all the women in my wife’s family made it well into their 90s.
January 2, 1944 to April 17, 2012. 68 years and four months.
My wife developed cancer, non-Hodgkins lymphoma, five years ago.
Around-and-around we went, a blizzard of medical appointments.
It was up-and-down, back-and-forth.
Chemo and radiation zapped the cancer, but it always came back.
She almost died last Spring.
Her cancer was causing massive leg-swelling, and constricting kidneys.
Chemo zapped that, but her cancer had become aggressive. It previously had been non-aggressive.
Radiation reduced the cancer, but it returned.
We were running out of treatment options.
Our final option was a hyper-expensive chemo pill, but it so lowered her white blood-cell count she had to stop taking it.
Deterioration set in quickly.
Lucidity went away about a week ago, and I started seeing mind failure.
She signed up for home hospice care, but that quickly became messy.
I had to take over administration of her medications, and some were forgotten. Our house is hectic.
Monday, April 16, 2012, we transferred her to a hospice-house, where she’d receive 24/7 skilled nursing-care.
But we were on the downward slide. —No-one escapes hospice with their life.
When I visited Tuesday afternoon, the day she died, she was utterly zonked, and may not have known I was even in the room. (I had our dog with me.)
She was still breathing, but appeared dead.
I put the dog back in the car, and then waited in her room in case she woke up.
I had been told she would awake.
She never did; I had to leave a note. I was worried about the dog in the car.
She might have died while I was waiting, but I think not.
She was still breathing when I left. I said “so-long,” choked-up of course.
Those were my final words.
Tuesday night the hospice-house called, and said she had passed.
She lasted about 24 hours at the hospice-house; which owes me a refund — it’s a prepaid nursing-facility.
And so it goes. Cancer kills its host, and then gets killed itself.
I spent over 44 years with this lady, and have incredible memories.
I could have done a lot worse.
I held out for my standards; quite a few potential marriage-mates were shoved aside, one really nice.
What mattered is what’s between the ears, and she had it.
January 2, 1944 to April 17, 2012. (Photo by BobbaLew — this is about 40 years ago, but is the person I’ve visualized ever since.)
Here it is. The blog I hoped I’d never have to write, but knew I’d probably have to.
The headline and lede have been in my head for years.
My wife of 44 years has “passed;” hospice-speak for “died.”
We didn’t expect this.
We thought I would go first.
My wife was made of sturdier stock than me.
Her mother, age 96, is still alive and will probably make 100. She’s very spry.
Just about all the women in my wife’s family made it well into their 90s.
January 2, 1944 to April 17, 2012. 68 years and four months.
My wife developed cancer, non-Hodgkins lymphoma, five years ago.
Around-and-around we went, a blizzard of medical appointments.
It was up-and-down, back-and-forth.
Chemo and radiation zapped the cancer, but it always came back.
She almost died last Spring.
Her cancer was causing massive leg-swelling, and constricting kidneys.
Chemo zapped that, but her cancer had become aggressive. It previously had been non-aggressive.
Radiation reduced the cancer, but it returned.
We were running out of treatment options.
Our final option was a hyper-expensive chemo pill, but it so lowered her white blood-cell count she had to stop taking it.
Deterioration set in quickly.
Lucidity went away about a week ago, and I started seeing mind failure.
She signed up for home hospice care, but that quickly became messy.
I had to take over administration of her medications, and some were forgotten. Our house is hectic.
Monday, April 16, 2012, we transferred her to a hospice-house, where she’d receive 24/7 skilled nursing-care.
But we were on the downward slide. —No-one escapes hospice with their life.
When I visited Tuesday afternoon, the day she died, she was utterly zonked, and may not have known I was even in the room. (I had our dog with me.)
She was still breathing, but appeared dead.
I put the dog back in the car, and then waited in her room in case she woke up.
I had been told she would awake.
She never did; I had to leave a note. I was worried about the dog in the car.
She might have died while I was waiting, but I think not.
She was still breathing when I left. I said “so-long,” choked-up of course.
Those were my final words.
Tuesday night the hospice-house called, and said she had passed.
She lasted about 24 hours at the hospice-house; which owes me a refund — it’s a prepaid nursing-facility.
And so it goes. Cancer kills its host, and then gets killed itself.
I spent over 44 years with this lady, and have incredible memories.
I could have done a lot worse.
I held out for my standards; quite a few potential marriage-mates were shoved aside, one really nice.
What mattered is what’s between the ears, and she had it.
Labels: grief-share
posted by BobbaLew at 10:48 AM
3 Comments:
I know I already sent condolences but I had not read this post at the time. I had not seen her picture. A face to the name...
You are a lucky man to have loved someone so much. That is what I take away from your description of your wife's death. At the risk of starting you crying again let me say one more time how sorry I am. I look over and see my own wife and think of what a Miami DJ used to say-"May I live forever, and you forever and a day...so that I shall never know that you have passed away".
Bob, I’ve had some much crazieness in my own life with my son (he has autism), that I have been remiss about sending a note about her passing. I am so sorry about your loss and my lack of response. I never met your Better Half, but I read about her enough. She was one sharp lady, I figured, and I can see that you were blessed. Cancer sucks. My mother has been battling non-Hodgkins and is heading onto a second round of treatmenet after it came back. My best to you during this difficult time.
That was Steve Buchiere, Bob. Forgot to add that in!
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