One Month Anniversary

[Mike's Girl]

April 3rd was the one month anniversary of my darling husband's passing. One month.  I can't believe it's only been one month since he's been gone.  It feels like it's been forever already.  I miss him so badly and I desperately long to hear his voice, to feel his hug, to see his sparkling eyes smiling at me, to talk to him about my day and share a laugh, everything.  I can't sleep. I can't eat.  My life as I knew it is no more.  I go to work and put on my happy face, but once I'm home, I crumble.  The house is quiet and cold now.  It's a shell that holds memories of a once wonderful and joyful life.

We've been happily married for 24 years, happily together for 26.  I was 24 when we met and now a widow at 50.  He's been with me for half of my life.  He was my best friend.  How do you recover from the loss of the love of your life?  The loss of your soulmate?  How?   How do you stop the deep pain in your heart where there is now a gaping hole?  How do you stop the sickening panic and terror from settling in when you realize that he's gone forever and you won't see him again until you meet up in Heaven?  

I guess it's all really starting to hit me that he's truly gone.  The first couple weeks were a blur of family and friends swooping in to help me out.  Now that the newness of him being gone has worn off and everyone has gone on with their lives, I'm finding myself facing my worst nightmare come true.  He's gone.  

Lord, help me to pick up the pieces.  Help me to take these first frightening steps as a newly widowed woman, into my new life without him.  I didn't want this new life, but I have no choice.  It has been forced onto me without my consent and there's nothing I can do about it.  All I can do is remember the beautiful life I had with the love of my life and realize that I was so blessed to have him in my life and I probably won't be blessed like that again.  

I'm sure there are a lot of you that can relate to my story.  How do you do it?

[Gin]

Mike's girl,

So sorry you are  having such a hard time.  I think we all felt that way, and to a large extent  still do.  I miss my husband something terrible and he has been gone 18 months.  "How do you do it?"  I don't think we "do" anything.  Things just happen to us and we deal with it the best we can.  Horrible thoughts come and we fall apart.  Eventually you will incorporate this hole in your life and live your life the best you can.  It will never be the way it was, but you will make a life for yourself.

[Dr Lenera]

Mike's girl - Though I haven't quite got to one year yet, I think that the one month anniversary is certainly one of the hardest. It's the time when reality sets in. The hussle and bussle of the funeral and legal stuff is mostly out of the way, and much of the shock is gone. You realise that you're now facing a totally different life than before, one that seems like it will be filled with emptiness and sorrow. But for me personally the next few month 'anniverseries' [not a good choice of word I know] were slightly less hard hitting and were a bit easier to deal with.

[kayc]

Mike's Girl,

I know it's hard, the hardest thing in the world, I'm sorry.  You ask how we do it.  It's been nearly 12 years for me and I've done it one day at a time.  I can't think about "the rest of my life", I can only do today, it's enough.  In the beginning I had to break it down by an hour or minute.  It's taken more time and effort than I ever could have imagined to process his death, build a life I can live with, and find purpose.  It's not the same as it was, it never will be.  I miss him each and every day of my life.

One of the things I've learned along the way is to embrace the moment and try to find something good about the day, no matter how fleeting or trivial.  In so doing I have learned to fully appreciate what IS rather than only lamenting what ISN'T.  It's taken effort and practice and some days it was a stretch to find ANYTHING good, but in looking for it it has helped me live in the moment and really appreciate and value even the smallest of things in life.  I get lonely, I have anxiety anyway and this has only added to it, I ended up getting a low dose anxiety medicine to take the edge off so I can better cope.  

It's really important to be kind and understanding and patient with yourself.  Self care is more especially important now.  Expressing myself helped restore some of the power I felt I'd lost when he was taken from me with no say so of my own.  My husband had just turned 51 when he died, I was blindsided.  I thought we had years left ahead of us.

Anything you feel is "normal" in grief.  Our journeys are as unique as we are, yet there will be commonalities also.  You have found a wonderful site with caring people, I hope you will continue to come here and post and read.  This place has been my lifesaver.  It's why I am still here, I want to be here for the brokenhearted, the same way others walked with me.

[DaveM]

Mike's Girl. Our hearts are with you. Please share whatever you feel the need to here. I am very new as well, at 3 months, and consider the folks here as life savers.

[Autumn2]

Thank you all for your posts. At four months, I am still taking a minute or two at a time. Sometimes those minutes are okay, other times not so much. Many times, for me, the future seems so dim. At times it is hard to believe there is a reason to keep going...how can I put 53 years aside. I am so lonely...even when I am not alone.

 

[Mike's Girl]

Thank you everyone for your kind words of encouragement.  I know that this is just the beginning of a long, hard journey, but with God's help, I believe that it can be a fruitful one.  Michael would want me to continue with my life and try to make it as joyful as possible.  With God's help, that's what I shall do.  One day at a time.

When Michael asked me to marry him, he confessed to me that he had a genetic disorder called Marfan Syndrome, which is a connective tissue disorder. He said he was prone to developing dissections and aneurysms and warned me that they could occur at any time.  He said he already had one in 1985 that almost killed him and resulted in an artificial heart valve.  He said he wanted to explain everything to me before I answered his question, because it was a crap shoot to put my future in his hands.  I said "yes" anyway, because he is the love of my life and my best friend.  I couldn't imagine my future without him and I would take what I could get!  Unbeknownst to him, I lived with a constant fear that he would be stricken and I would lose him.  This has been my nightmare.  

But, we had 26 wonderful years together, 24 of them happily married.  Yes, we went through many health scares with him.  He encountered many dissections and aneurysms, but with God's merciful hand, He kept him on this Earth.  My nightmare was constantly on my mind and many times almost came to fruition.  Michael endured so much physical pain and mental anguish from the disease.  He lost his ability to work and was put on disability in 2009.  He suffered constant pain from the many surgeries he had to endure.  That man constantly amazed me.  Even though he had this constant worry of possible death hanging over his head, he always faced each day with a smile, grateful of his life, our love, and God's mercy.  We always said that God was keeping him here for a reason.  

Well, January of this year, we were thrown a complete stunner...Michael was diagnosed with bladder cancer.  This was a new health scare that we haven't encountered before.  We quickly went into "medical mode" and called all the doctors, made all the appointments, got the plan set up for dealing with the problem and getting it taken care of so we could continue on with life.  Michael favorite saying whenever he was faced with another surgery, "Just get it over with so I can start healing."  The cancer was seen during a cystoscope at the beginning of January.  CTs were done and we found it was still contained in the bladder wall, not outside of the bladder, nor in the lymph nodes.  Praise God!  During the next couple weeks, surgery was scheduled to remove his bladder.  Before we could finalize the plans with Moffitt and the oncologist, the surgeon said he saw something on his CTs he didn't like and ordered a PET scan.  A week went by and the PET scan was performed.  The day we were to go to the oncologist for the PET scan results, Michael was feeling too much pain and sickness to get out of bed.  I went myself and was told that it was Stage IV and inoperable.  That was on Tuesday Feb. 21st.  By Thursday Feb. 23rd, Michael was admitted into one of the local hospitals.  By the following Friday, Mar. 3rd, he was gone.  Renal Failure caused by Sepsis was the official diagnosis.  He died surrounded by family and friends, with me holding his hand.  I got to watch that sweet, miracle of a man take his last breath.  It was a blessing to be loved by such a tender heart and a privilege to carry his name.

There it all is.  There's our story.  These past two months have completely rocked my world.  I'm now faced with a future that I'm completely unsure of, knowing that I now face it alone.  I'm extremely grateful that Michael isn't in pain any more, nor did he have to endure any of the ramifications of cancer treatment.  By the end, his oncologist said that he probably wouldn't have survived the treatments anyway.  He was just too weak.  His body had enough.  Now, I'm the one in pain.

One day at a time, Dear Lord...

[Autumn2]

I am sorry not much more to say. My hubby died of sepsis related to a kidney stone. He walked into the hospital thinking he would be given muscle relaxants and pain pills and died 17 hours later. He was not diagnosed or treated in a timely manner. My goal now is to get more information about sepsis to the general public and to see improvement of its diagnosis and treatment in the emergency room. Just maybe, had he been given fluids and antibiotics when sepsis was flagged but not noticed, maybe he would still be alive.

 

[Mike's Girl]

Autumn2 - I'm so sorry to hear about the untimely treatment for your husband that resulted in his death.  That is a true tragedy!  That quick of a timeline is enough to leave you completely numb, dumbstruck, and angry. I'm so sorry!

I have been finding some comfort in these posts.  Reading others going through the same situation as me is both somber yet comforting.  I see that you can create a new life from the ruins of your old life.  It just takes time and faith.  You never lose your loved one. They grow with you into a new person, because they are always a part of you.  Helping you and guiding you into the new you.

[iPraiseHim]

8 hours ago, Autumn2 said:

I am sorry not much more to say. My hubby died of sepsis related to a kidney stone. He walked into the hospital thinking he would be given muscle relaxants and pain pills and died 17 hours later. He was not diagnosed or treated in a timely manner. My goal now is to get more information about sepsis to the general public and to see improvement of its diagnosis and treatment in the emergency room. Just maybe, had he been given fluids and antibiotics when sepsis was flagged but not noticed, maybe he would still be alive.

 

Autumn2,

Here is an article from a local doctor that has seemed to help some patients with sepsis.  My mother-in-law died from complications of sepsis in April 2000.  Hopeful this information can help you on your quest.

 

http://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2017/03/23/521096488/doctor-turns-up-possible-treatment-for-deadly-sepsis

Shalom, George

[kayc]

Sepsis is very deadly and I'm sorry for both you going through this experience.  My husband went quickly also, as he didn't learn of his heart problems until two days before he died and I was gone at the time.  The next day he learned he'd had a previous heart attack six months earlier that severely damaged his heart.  I think they knew at that time he wasn't going to make it, but they scheduled him for surgery for two days later...a 5 bypass.  The next day I was at his side and learned the shocking news.  Shortly after getting there, he died, the last time I saw him they were trying to get his heart going, they threw me out so I wasn't able to be with him when he passed.  The look of horror on his face as they were working on him, he was in immense pain.  It's something I will never forget as long as I live.

[Autumn2]

Thank you for the info. Ironically I was coming out of a grief support meeting breakfast when I heard this on NPR. Seems like it certainly would be a benign treatment. Since then I have researched it. I hope we can have clinical trials but figure big pharma will prevent this. The other problem is most hospitals dont have the amount of vitamin C needed as massive amounts are needed. I have a lot of guilt for not making him go to hospital earlier (but you know people do what they want to do) and for the shoddy treatment at the hospital. My goal is to increase awareness of sepsis and to try to make the most of what time I have left. Life is so sad right now...for all of us. This group is tops (wish we were all closer). Hugs to all. Think of you all and know I am not alone and can come here when I am having a particularly bad day.

[Autumn2]

KayC. At the very end I too was kicked out. He was gasping for breath. I knew he was to be intubated but I really thought he would be okay (I guess I thought that. It was all so fast I was numb...one minute looking okay...next minute not. i never had the chance to say good bye or I love you...instead the last words he heard from me were "keep your mask on, slow your breathing". Why didnt I say I love you. Guilt, guilt, guilt. Know after 53 years he would know I cared but still...doubt I will ever come to grips with this and yes, being selfish, I wish I had gone first. He was not terribly ill before although he had Parkinson's and heart problems but he got around fine.

[Margm]

The long ER wait with me going to desk constantly.  They allowed me to give him his morphine.  We were there in daylight, in a room by just around 4:00 a.m. and by 7:30 a.m. he was gone.  Those long hours of suffering in the ER were the most he suffered, that I could see.  That man took pain without fussing.  He was so strong, I was not going to allow him to die.  Showed what a lowly human I was.  I had no choice.  His whole body was wracked with cancer.  Things I should have noticed I did not see.  The letter I was to write to the hospital (one I had retired from) has never been written, complaining about the ER wait.  I found a diary I kept of the short time he was sick.  At the end I wrote "no more to write, he left me on October 17, 2015.  I think there does come a time you quit counting.  Then you remember.  No, you will never forget.  After 54 years of waking up with him beside me, sometimes I still think he is there, for just one moment, then I get out of bed.

[Mike's Girl]

Nights and weekends are the worst.  During the weekdays, work keeps my mind occupied and tires me out.  I get into my routine and things just naturally go by rote.  I lie awake at night and cry myself to sleep, but it usually doesn't take me long to drift off.  Fridays are no longer the gateway to a possible weekend of fun and rest, but they have become a depressing anniversary of his death.  Michael passed on a Friday night and I can't help but find myself counting the Fridays since he left.  As the number of Fridays since his passing get bigger, the hole in my heart gets bigger and colder.  

Weekends in general are tough.  Yes, I have chores around the house to keep me busy.  I also try to make plans with friends as much as possible to get me out of the house.  It's the times when I'm alone in the house with nothing but my thoughts that kill me.  I know these times are important and they must be tolerated. I try to survive them with prayer to God and by talking to Michael.  Out loud.  My cats look at me like I'm nuts, but I don't care.  I feel he hears me.  I know he's with me.  I just wish he could talk back to me.

Sleep evades me every Sunday night.  I'm not sure why.  On Monday, I'm usually a zombie, functioning on 2 - 3 hours of sleep.  I lie there looking at his empty side of the bed and weep.  Inner turmoil fighting in my head on the "why's" and the "how comes" .  My brain tries to figure out the mysteries of the universe, then it flashes to the moment he took his last breath.  The flood of sadness overwhelms me again and I end up getting out of bed and sobbing.  This can go on for hours.  They say to let out your emotions when you feel you need to, so I'm just praying that all of this is healing.

[kayc]

My heart goes out to you, I remember that all too well and it was the same for me, nights and weekends were tough.  I've gotten used to living alone but it wasn't ever my preference.  Retirement was a huge adjustment as I suddenly had to deal with more time alone, no more rushing around trying to get everything done before heading back to work.  It helps to have a routine, I've found, and some balance with social activity and solitude.  I talk to my George too.  And that's the good things about animals, no judgment from them!  It is good to allow yourself to feel your grief, even if it means tears, yes, it's all part of the processing and healing.

[DaveM]

Yes, nights and weekends. I actually dread weekends now. My company has the upcoming Good Friday holiday, and for my part, I wish we didn't.  I last spoke to Dana on a Friday night, and then she was gone. I can immerse myself in work, but around here the house may as well be coming down around me. I just can't get motivated. Thank goodness we have this place to come to.

[Dr Lenera]

Nights I'm not too bad with now. For some reason I've been finding it reasonably easy to get to sleep of late - maybe it's from emotional exhaustion, knowing I'll get 7 or 8 hours of break from my often zombie-like existence. Mornings are still quite upsetting though, at least the first few minutes where I still automatically reach out my hand or turn round and....O, she's not there!! We would both have to work on Saturdays and I still do, so a full weekend is only something I'm familiar with from holidays. But Sunday and Wednesday [our other day off] mornings are still a struggle for the first hour or so. Just don't feel I want to get up....yet I don't like being in an empty bed either. It's a horrible trap!!!

[kayc]

I hated the first part of grief where it hasn't sunk in totally that they're gone yet, and you look up expecting to see them or hear the phone ring and think it's them...every time that happens it hits you all over again that they're gone and it's so hard.  Not that it's much consolation but it seemed better not getting hit with those rude awakenings continually.

[Mike's Girl]

Today marks 6 weeks since my Michael has passed. It's so surreal.  Life has become one big boring routine for me.  The weekdays rush by, only to bring me to another depressing weekend without him. I put on my smiling face all day, only to cry at night when I walk into an empty house.  Friends have been keeping me relatively active, so I'm able to get out and distract my self for a while, but every day when I wake, the horror of him being gone is still there.  Every night when I go to bed, the horror is still there.  I spend most nights lost in Netflix or sitcoms, not speaking a word to anyone, except occasionally to my cats.  He used to be there for me to talk to, to play games on the tablet with, to share a laugh with.  

With this holiday weekend looming, the emptiness will only be more enhanced.  I don't have any family left in my area.  All live up north.  Friends have invited me to their big family Easter dinners, but I don't want to be the pitiful widow odd-man-out.  That's uncomfortable and I'm already uncomfortable as it is.  I can't wait for the days when a memory will make him smile instead of cry.  I know it's extremely early in my grief and I have a lifetime to go.  But, again, with Gods help, I'm taking it all one day at a time.

[AB3]

5 hours ago, Mike's Girl said:

Today marks 6 weeks since my Michael has passed. It's so surreal.  Life has become one big boring routine for me.  The weekdays rush by, only to bring me to another depressing weekend without him. I put on my smiling face all day, only to cry at night when I walk into an empty house.  Friends have been keeping me relatively active, so I'm able to get out and distract my self for a while, but every day when I wake, the horror of him being gone is still there.  Every night when I go to bed, the horror is still there.  I spend most nights lost in Netflix or sitcoms, not speaking a word to anyone, except occasionally to my cats.  He used to be there for me to talk to, to play games on the tablet with, to share a laugh with.  

With this holiday weekend looming, the emptiness will only be more enhanced.  I don't have any family left in my area.  All live up north.  Friends have invited me to their big family Easter dinners, but I don't want to be the pitiful widow odd-man-out.  That's uncomfortable and I'm already uncomfortable as it is.  I can't wait for the days when a memory will make him smile instead of cry.  I know it's extremely early in my grief and I have a lifetime to go.  But, again, with Gods help, I'm taking it all one day at a time.

Mike's Girl, the only thing you can do is take it one day at a time or one sec/min at a time like I say. I just hit the 4 month mark and I wish I could tell you the pain and loneliness goes away or decrease but I can't because it doesn't. You just learn to live with it....it becomes a part of your existence. Someone told me that  this is the price we pay for falling in love and finding our soulmates. I have to agree but I wouldn't change a thing!

 

 

[Gin]

AB3.....I agree.  It is a huge price to pay, but I would not change a thing, except the end if I could.

[Cookie]

On ‎04‎/‎06‎/‎2017 at 11:03 AM, Mike's Girl said:

Thank you everyone for your kind words of encouragement.  I know that this is just the beginning of a long, hard journey, but with God's help, I believe that it can be a fruitful one.  Michael would want me to continue with my life and try to make it as joyful as possible.  With God's help, that's what I shall do.  One day at a time.

When Michael asked me to marry him, he confessed to me that he had a genetic disorder called Marfan Syndrome, which is a connective tissue disorder. He said he was prone to developing dissections and aneurysms and warned me that they could occur at any time.  He said he already had one in 1985 that almost killed him and resulted in an artificial heart valve.  He said he wanted to explain everything to me before I answered his question, because it was a crap shoot to put my future in his hands.  I said "yes" anyway, because he is the love of my life and my best friend.  I couldn't imagine my future without him and I would take what I could get!  Unbeknownst to him, I lived with a constant fear that he would be stricken and I would lose him.  This has been my nightmare.  

But, we had 26 wonderful years together, 24 of them happily married.  Yes, we went through many health scares with him.  He encountered many dissections and aneurysms, but with God's merciful hand, He kept him on this Earth.  My nightmare was constantly on my mind and many times almost came to fruition.  Michael endured so much physical pain and mental anguish from the disease.  He lost his ability to work and was put on disability in 2009.  He suffered constant pain from the many surgeries he had to endure.  That man constantly amazed me.  Even though he had this constant worry of possible death hanging over his head, he always faced each day with a smile, grateful of his life, our love, and God's mercy.  We always said that God was keeping him here for a reason.  

Well, January of this year, we were thrown a complete stunner...Michael was diagnosed with bladder cancer.  This was a new health scare that we haven't encountered before.  We quickly went into "medical mode" and called all the doctors, made all the appointments, got the plan set up for dealing with the problem and getting it taken care of so we could continue on with life.  Michael favorite saying whenever he was faced with another surgery, "Just get it over with so I can start healing."  The cancer was seen during a cystoscope at the beginning of January.  CTs were done and we found it was still contained in the bladder wall, not outside of the bladder, nor in the lymph nodes.  Praise God!  During the next couple weeks, surgery was scheduled to remove his bladder.  Before we could finalize the plans with Moffitt and the oncologist, the surgeon said he saw something on his CTs he didn't like and ordered a PET scan.  A week went by and the PET scan was performed.  The day we were to go to the oncologist for the PET scan results, Michael was feeling too much pain and sickness to get out of bed.  I went myself and was told that it was Stage IV and inoperable.  That was on Tuesday Feb. 21st.  By Thursday Feb. 23rd, Michael was admitted into one of the local hospitals.  By the following Friday, Mar. 3rd, he was gone.  Renal Failure caused by Sepsis was the official diagnosis.  He died surrounded by family and friends, with me holding his hand.  I got to watch that sweet, miracle of a man take his last breath.  It was a blessing to be loved by such a tender heart and a privilege to carry his name.

There it all is.  There's our story.  These past two months have completely rocked my world.  I'm now faced with a future that I'm completely unsure of, knowing that I now face it alone.  I'm extremely grateful that Michael isn't in pain any more, nor did he have to endure any of the ramifications of cancer treatment.  By the end, his oncologist said that he probably wouldn't have survived the treatments anyway.  He was just too weak.  His body had enough.  Now, I'm the one in pain.

One day at a time, Dear Lord...

Mike's girl:  So sorry for your loss and the shock of it.  My husband had throat cancer but we thought he was clear.  After 3 years, we got the news in April that it had recurred and he was dead by June, so I understand the shock thing.  It's been almost 2 years and I still feel the shock of it.  I wish you peace.....Cookie

[Cookie]

On ‎04‎/‎05‎/‎2017 at 4:19 PM, Gin said:

Mike's girl,

So sorry you are  having such a hard time.  I think we all felt that way, and to a large extent  still do.  I miss my husband something terrible and he has been gone 18 months.  "How do you do it?"  I don't think we "do" anything.  Things just happen to us and we deal with it the best we can.  Horrible thoughts come and we fall apart.  Eventually you will incorporate this hole in your life and live your life the best you can.  It will never be the way it was, but you will make a life for yourself.

Yes, Gin:  It is a bit like flying by the seat of your pants.  There is no way, just going through the days it seems and doing the best we can.  Hugs to all.....Cookie