On the eve of Ron’s fourteenth chemotherapy treatment, he asked me if I wanted to write an update on how I was dealing with his illnesses. I asked, “On what? The Big C., Parkinson’s, your heart issues, your shoulder pain, or your other issues?”
He said, “No really, my readers might want your perspective.”
I quietly answered, “I am labeled as a strong woman and for the most part, I am and can be, but I have my days and the gloomy grey sky matches my mood this week. I don’t want to let people down. I know I will bounce back soon.”
My deeply loving husband, Ron, assured me I might be able to help another caregiver in my honesty. So here it is warts and all.
Most days like I said, I am Ron’s biggest cheerleader, protector and confidant. There are very few secrets, as I am an open book. Most days. Then, my mind starts down the lonely road to what if’s…and how in the world…to wondering… if I will be widowed. Again. I have so many friends who have been married over 30, 40, and 50 years and I wonder if they realize how the thief can rob you at any moment of another meal together, a quiet conversation, a dream shared, and one more embrace?
Almost 25 years ago, my first husband Jim dressed in the dark, told me he’d see me for lunch, and threw the last kiss my way. Instead, I received a message four hours later to hurry to Ellis hospital. That blurring ride in the back seat of my Pastor’s car with my son. By the time I reached the room to say goodbye, Jim had died. It was not a romantic scene like Romeo and Juliet, it was agony; kissing his cold lips goodbye. Widowhood is like having open heart surgery without any anesthesia. You’d think I would have something kinder to say after so long, but unless you’ve walked those steps, you cannot possibly know the raw pain of it.
Ron and I have shared our grief stories and we get it. We support each other on those ghost days, anniversaries, birthdays, and special occasions. Ron told me recently; he thought he knew how I might be feeling with all the appointments, doctors’ notes, CT’s and more. After all, he was in my place for over forty years caring for his wife and her many illnesses. He often thanks me for the littlest things I do which empower me to want to do more. Note to caregivers: a thank you goes a long way, doesn’t it?
In a long illness, one must decide to have a motto such as, “Live like your dying” or “Look up child and have faith.” I’m not sure what mine is maybe a combination of both. We’ve been blessed with good health insurance between Medicare and Ron’s military Tricare for Life; we don’t even have any co-pays. I thank Ron for his service of twenty years in the Air Force weekly, and I mean it. That is one burden we do not have and we don’t take a day for granted.
So how am I doing? More than okay for now but definitely scared of being alone again. Wishing we could slip away together one night like the couple in the book/movie, The Notebook. They just held hands and went to sleep. But we know who holds our eternal life and that gives us peace.
Hope I haven’t disappointed too many people, especially my family, but I need to be honest. Caregiving is a privilege and at the same time a tough journey. I’m still learning I’m tougher than I give myself credit to be, and know God will give me the strength I need, when I need it most. I’m holding on to that and my faith. Waiting on Him.
Here is a song that pretty much sums it up. From the movie “Fireproof.”
