The way my husband lived with dying somehow took away all my lifelong fears—all but the fear of his suffering and of his death, and of life without him.
He planned a final family vacation for us during his last season. Short months before his diagnosis he had finally coaxed me onto a plane with our daughters, and I was still white-knuckled with terror of flying. Although he wisely did not forewarn me that each leg of the final family-of-six trip would involve four separate plane rides, I discovered that after four decades I was no longer afraid of flying.
He needed someone to be able to give him subcutaneous injections at home when he no longer could do it, and he needed carefully-mapped sequences of injections through his port. I discovered then that I no longer was afraid of needles. How could I be, after what he had been through?
He needed to know I’d be able to handle the complicated finances for getting four children through college, and I very nearly conquered my fear of his elaborate financial computer system.
He was not afraid of his own death. I never got there, but, as he told me, the two of us are made of different stuff.
You are such an amazing writer, Steph.
That was really beautiful Steph. I started crying. I have been very very bad & have not been in for my lab tests in years. I am afraid to find something else to deal with. I feel like I deal very badly with what is on my plate already.
There you are, dealing very well, indeed. I am so glad to have you back in my life and to read your crystalline wisdom. I will go and get those tests- I need to drive 25 miles after fasting to do it , but I shall. See – the sharing is yielding good already.
“There’s always a corner in my heart for you.” That was the wording on the little cushion you sent me. I also have the dove and the other little cushion of “hope.” But what makes me think of you pretty much everyday is the little notepad…I put it into my handbag and most days I reach in looking for my keys or my purse and I pull out the notepad…and I think about you and Jim, and wonder how you and your children are coping.
I’m so glad you and Jim had Dr. Bob. Keep on writing. Stay strong.
Love
Helen/Irishgirl
You are amazing, inspirational and have an army of friends who are here for you. Jim had faith in you, we have faith in you, and now I hope you have faith in you!
Big hug to you from Pennsylvania.
Other than that, everything’s changed, and you’re still awesome.
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