I'm Cheryl, but since there's already one here I'll go by Mini. Tomorrow night will mark 9 weeks since I lost my husband of 31 years. Yes, I'm still grieving, and always will, but right now I'm more mad than anything. At him, even though it wasn't his fault, at the doctors that shrugged when I asked what it was that killed him, at my family and just mad in general.
He was diagnosed with SCLC July 2009, and given an 80% chance of living through the first year, which he did. His oncologist was positive he was going to beat it. Matter of fact, the Thursday before he died we were told they weren't sure but they thought he was in remission. Good news, you're doing okay, just need to gain weight. Friday was a good day, he was laughing and joking with a good appetite. Sat morning, woke up not feeling well, slept all day long, woke up that afternoon around 6 and just got gradually worse. Fighting me, which wasn't like him at all, then started complaining he couldn't see and started talking gibberish. Fought the paramedics, biting them and screaming. All through the night they kept giving him increasingly huge does of heavy narcotics to "calm him down", then gave him a massive dose of morphine Sunday morning at 7, he slipped into a heavy sleep and never woke up. I found out later on what they gave him is a cocktail of drugs that nurses will give hospice patients who are on their way out to help them. He died at 6:55 Monday night on the 23rd of Aug.
They gave him scans, ekg, x-rays, you name it. He had a bad blood clot in his left arm, from surgery he had back in July. I asked if the blood clots did it to him, shrug. A heart doctor came in and told me they didn't see any evidence of anything wrong with his heart, but he thought it was the cancer that had grown in the heart, then a shrug. Uh-- no evidence of cancer anywhere in his body but the one spot in his lung. His oncologist said he didn't think it was the cancer, he thought the chemo had just done a number on him and his body gave out. His regular doc told me what I thought was the most honest bit of all. It was a combination of a lot of things. Heart, blood clots, the surgery in July, pneumonia in April, the cancer and chemo. Official cause on his certificate is lung cancer followed with COPD, hypertension and diabetes. So nobody knows for sure what he died of or else they aren't telling me. He did have some neurological damage, which tells me it could have been a stroke. All I know is, I lost my 52 year old husband and became a widow before I am 50.
I'm mad. I have nobody to turn to, nobody to talk to. My son is living with me, but that's for his benefit, not mine. Matter of fact, he is out with his pals right now in my car, and I know when he comes in if I ask him to take me somewhere he will get mad. I can't drive, I have bad eyesight and honestly, panic attacks at the thought of driving. My reflexes are slow and I can't back a car up without needing to throw up afterwards. But to everybody, I am faking because I'm too lazy to learn to drive. My father in-law lost his wife to cancer almost 3 years to the day hubby died (his mom, his step-dad) but he acts like he doesn't know what I am going through. Hates to help me when I need it but back then had no freaking problem asking me to sit at the hospital with her, or house sit for him, clean house, cook supper, etc. When hubby was in for 10 days for the clots, never once did anybody offer to help me, clean my house, give me a break from sitting there, getting me food or anything. The only person who acts like she wants to help is my mom, and that's because she wants to come live with me and be waited on hand and foot. It's killing her knowing that I am in this house with my son and I won't let her come live with me. She's dirty, nasty, intrusive and a pain in the butt. I don't need her running in to save the day, treating me like I am freaking 5 years old and can't do anything without mommy's help, laying around the house peeing on every piece of furniture I have. (she's almost incontinent but won't admit it. To her, it's normal to do that) When somebody dies everybody offers help. Where is it then? It's not like I need help 24/7, I'd just sometimes like to be invited out for coffee, or a burger. At the moment I need some help moving some big pieces of furniture and can't get a single person to help. But, I know as soon as fil wants to go on a trip with his girlfriend and they need a dog sitter who they will call, expecting me to leave my cats alone for days. Will fil call his little thief of a daughter to have her do it? Nope, because she is so busy at her 12th job this year, and besides, she is so special because she drives. He forgets the time she and a boyfriend broke into the house and took $2k in money right after his mom died. Or writing $1k in hot checks when she stole his checkbook when both he and mil were in the hospital at the same time (and hubby and I were taking care of them. Nope, she is his sweet little angel now, because she is kissing his ass. When hubby died he took both our names out of his will and is leaving everything to her, including stuff my mil wanted hubby and me to have. People wonder why I act like I do now? They wonder why I am so angry?
Thanks for letting me get this off my chest.
