KarenK

Mary and Anne, Thank you so much for your replies. Just "hearing" another person's response is so helpful. Ron's old cat is not much for communication unless he is hungry. He was truly Ron's best buddy, although we get along okay. I suppose I am more of a dog person and have considered a "rescue", but am not sure at this cat's age, how he would adapt. Another loss for our family came a month after Ron. After losing his Dad, my son lost his dog of ten years. Fortunately, pets can be replaced and after a time, he got a five month old puppy. When he visits, the puppy wants to play and the cat wants to hiss and hide, so it probably isn't a good time for a "new" friend. You know, I plan to go get acquainted over at the nearby senior center and perhaps attend a "grief" meeting. But so far, all I have done is "plan". I just don't seem to be able to make myself step forward. I worked for the same company for almost forty years and seemed to have a lot of "friends", but when I retired seven years ago, we each went our own separate ways. I had only one person(except my son & daughter) to call after he was gone. She was a good friend of my Mother's(who passed away in 2006). She is ninety and in poor health, so I cannot be crying on her shoulder all the time. My daughter lives about 2,000 miles away and although we speak a couple of times a week, she is carrying her own burdens. My son lives only about ten minutes away. We just kind of keep tabs on each other. It's funny. I want to be around people, but I just don't want to talk to them. Does that sound crazy? I suppose I just don't want to burden others with my problems. And yet, I am so glad that I discovered this forum where I can communicate with others who really understand. On the Cancer Survivors Network, which has also been a lifesaver for me, I put up a post titled "The TV Is On, If Only For The Noise". I guess that's where I still am. Except for trips to the grocery store, that seems to be my life. That, and trying to juggle all the bills. Ron had no life insurance. I am not "crying in my beer" here, but even with health insurance, I'm left with many bills pertaining to the thirteen times he was hospitalized this year preceding his death. But enough of that. I'm sure we are all struggling to find our "new" normal. As for age, I am 66. Until lately, I did not feel that age, but what is age, anyway? I still drive a big 4WD truck. I hope to contribute more in the future. Thank you again for offering to help me over the many obstacles on this "path". Karen

And I can't seem to climb out! My name is Karen. My story is a lengthy one, filled with medical disasters CAUSED by medical professionals and culminating with the death of my husband, Ron, on May 5, 2013. At this point, the "who, what, and why" are no longer important. After spending the last month of his life in two different hospitals, I was able, with the assistance of the wonderful Hospice people, to bring him home for the final nineteen hours where I held his hand as he took one less breath each hour. You see, I had to make the decision to forever end the life of the man I had spent the last forty-one years of my life with. It was the hardest decision I have ever had to make, to let this wonderful man go, but I knew in my heart, he would not want to walk the new "path" that been chosen for the rest of his "life", forever tethered to a ventilator, a dialysis machine, semi-conscious in a nursing facility. I am now traveling my new "path". I don't like this path, but cannot seem to change direction. I have nothing to look forward to. I simply wait for the other shoe to drop, for you see, my daughter has been fighting Stage IV colon cancer for five years. She is holding her own, as I speak, as a "chemo for life" survivor complete with all the wonderful side effects chemo provides. I cannot bear the thought of losing her, too. Perhaps, in future posts, I can be more uplifting, but the truth is I don't feel very uplifted right now and guess I just need someone to talk with. I am not a "social networker". I have been a member of Cancer Survivors Network since 2009 and have just become a new member here, but I would like to share something I found on another website. I guess it sums it up for me. Thank you for listening. Karen . Unique and Devastating Loss (by WifeLess) With the death of our spouse (which here includes fiancée, significant other, partner, etc.), we grieve the loss of so much more than someone we merely loved or were close to, like a parent, grandparent, sibling, friend or pet. We grieve instead the loss of: The one we loved most deeply, cherished and felt the very closest to. The one we swore commitment to in that unique human bond of marriage, which many consider sacred. The one we shared the ultimate partnership with to live as one and perhaps bear children with. The one who embodied our true sense of home. The one who was our best friend and who was to be our companion for life. The one we confided in, depended on and trusted most. The one who really knew, understood and accepted us as we were. The one we felt safe and protected with. The one we shared private moments and intimate feelings with. The one we mated souls with. But it is not just that this most precious person has been torn from our life, as unbearably heartbreaking as that alone is. With the death of our spouse, and only of our spouse, many additional profound losses must be grieved as well. For we also suffer: The loss of who we ourselves were while with them. The loss of the couple we were once half of. The loss of the life partnership we once formed. The loss of the husband or wife role we once embraced. The loss of the life we once lived. The loss of the plans we once made. The loss of the dreams we once shared. The loss of the future we once envisioned. Amidst all this, we are also suddenly confronted with many hardships we never expected to face at this point in our life. Besides financial survival, increased domestic burdens and perhaps single parenting, additional challenges less apparent to others but all too real and terrifying to us. We must now find it within ourselves: To create a new identity. To redefine our role in life. To establish a new connection to the world. To build a new network of social relationships. To discover a new sense of purpose. To formulate a new set of goals. To decide on a new direction for our future. And we must accomplish these without dishonoring our former life, but while suppressing bittersweet memories of that life, so that they not hold us back. Memories of happier times mostly, but also those of our spouse’s death, either sudden and shocking or after prolonged illness. We must further endure the feelings of guilt and disloyalty that follow us as we attempt to forget and move forward, but with our heartstrings tied so tightly to the past. And all these tasks must be taken on at the lowest possible point of our life in the worst state imaginable. When we are the weakest, most vulnerable, most insecure, most isolated, most heartbroken and most emotionally exhausted we have ever been. Without that one person we long ago became accustomed to relying on to help get us through life's greatest challenges. The one who, just by being there, would have provided us emotional comfort and moral support to draw upon, as well as the strength and confidence we need to complete those tasks and so much more. But now we face all this alone. Profound indeed is the death of our spouse. Unique and devastating. For nearly all of us, much more catastrophic to our life than the loss of any other. And truly comparable, many of us widows and widowers often feel, to one other death only. Ours.