“Not all the king's horses; Not all the king's men; Could put it back together”

Lyrics from Fall from Grace (Fleetwood Mac)

It has been quite the struggle today. Today marks five months since you left me. It also marks that day that I was told my mother has neuroendocrine tumor (carcinoma) and metastatic liver with unknown primary cancer. If I hadn’t already been told what was suspected, I probably would have just nodded my head and taken my mom back home, wondering what had just happened. Unfortunately, this is bad – really bad. Even though the oncologist would not be specific, it was what she didn’t say that struck me and my aunt (mom’s sister) like a lightning bolt straight through the heart. Mom has lost over 20 pounds in 4 weeks, can’t eat and is on pain medication all of the time now. She is like a small broken child that we are watching shrink away – to nothing. She has lost much of her independence, and I knew this as I helped her shower and get dressed this morning.

I almost forgot that today was the 17th; if it hadn’t been for the fact that I had to sign papers (over and over again) with the date of 2/17/2014! I am screaming and coming apart inside! You were always here when I fell apart before, and now I feel like I’m on a tight-wire without a safety net. You couldn’t have known that this was the near future, but yet I feel that you were somehow preparing me for what was to come. You knew that I’d need strength, and in a strange sort of way, you leaving me as suddenly as you did, helped prepare me for this moment. I don’t know if it’s because I am still numb from your loss or that I have grown through your loss. Of course I’d like to think that it’s the latter, but as I continue to stumble, I can only assume that I am still numb. Yes, these are the ramblings of a mad woman. I am a mad, angry woman that is so frustrated with our healthcare system and the lack of answers that we are getting. We still don’t know avenues for treatment, though we know it’s limited. My mom is so weak, we are certain she wouldn’t be able to tolerate aggressive treatment. So why?!?! Why?!?!? This word was the elephant in the room, as the new Dr. awkwardly did her tap-dancing around the issue. If my mom can survive the next 2 weeks (while the Dr. is on vacay – argh), and we can get a PET scan approved by Medicare/Humana, we can actually discuss treatment options. Interesting that the Dr. would even take this approach. If my mom is this weak, why not just discuss palliative treatment? Is it the liability? Am I completely losing it and my mom really isn’t that bad at all? Why would a professional continue to put someone through this pain? Questions – so many questions!

I want to end this post on a positive note – I feel such comfort being back home. Home is the town where we met, married, had children and nurtured our love for each other. I feel it strongly here and it brings my heart peace (when I’m not screaming)! I love you Babe, and am looking for your comfort!

". . . and the songbirds are singing, like they know the score; I love You like never before"

Lyrics from Songbird (Fleetwood Mac)

Well, I am back home again. It has been a while since I was here (maybe 3 years?). Some things have changed drastically in this town in 22 years, and others have stayed the same. I keep catching myself daydreaming about us in our younger days. Enjoying the bliss of being young, naive and full of love. Love for each other, family and life. Our lives together began here. We met here, dated here, married here and had our family here before moving on to greater opportunities. The weather has been unusually warm these past few days and what I notice most is how loud the birds are every morning. They are all chattering and carrying on, like there is big news that they can’t keep to themselves. What would have annoyed me a few years ago, now warms my heart. I am taking the sounds (and sights) in and trying to remember how great it was when we were living here. I know I can’t go back, but for a short time in my mind’s memory, I DO go back and daydream of wonderful times gone by.

It’s been a rough couple of days. In just 30 days’ time, I have seen my mother become a very fragile and weak woman. She reminds me of my grandmother, who was so petite, yet a very strong woman. This existence is against all that she is made of and it breaks my heart to see her this way. I am attempting to be strong, but am numb and frozen from the shock of this latest event in my new WWL. In this situation, I am glad that you can’t see her deterioration, but so sad that I can’t lean on you and hear your wonderful encouraging words. I come from a long line of very strong women and attempt to remember that when I feel I can’t do this. Thankfully, my mom's sisters gently remind me that I can do this.

Why is my life changing so fast when I am just attempting to adjust “one-change-at-a-time”? I want the world to slow down and let me attempt to digest and understand these past few months. To learn from them and make wise decisions is my hope, but I’m struggling. I love you babe, and I feel you with me everywhere I go when I am here. Welcome home!

“Children get older, and I'm getting older too”

lyrics from "Landslide" (Fleetwood Mac)

It’s been another tough week. My mom became ill while working 3 weeks ago and has been mostly bedridden since. She’s made several trips to the doctor and has been diagnosed with a failing liver and preliminarily liver cancer (can’t be officially diagnosed until they do a biopsy this week). 98% of all liver cancers begin somewhere else, with only 2% isolated to the liver. I’ve read as much as I can and know recovery is very unlikely.  Her condition is dire, and it is only a matter of time.

We had dinner December 23^rd and she looked fine, and said she felt good. It was so comforting to have her with me that night. The night gave me hope. It made me feel like I possibly could do this alone, as long as I had the support of my mom.

I’ve told myself that it’s important for me to document, as I can, about how I am doing without you here with me. Unfortunately, it looks like this is the next difficult step that I will be making alone.

I never dreamed that this would happen now. Now when I am still discovering how to live without you. You always joked how if you were gone, at least my mom and I would be free to travel – anywhere and everywhere. Now it looks like that will never happen. I am feeling lost – how does one adjust to being a widow and an orphan at the same time?!?!?

I know that “the script” is for me to be stoic and supportive – and I so desperately want to be there for my mom. It takes all that I have to just finish this entry. I love you babe! Please help me get through this, as I am struggling. I just want things back, the way they were – before I began my new weird widow lyfe!