LadyCarrie

Dear Kay, Thank you for writing to me this morning. Actually, I don't recall ever asking Why Jerry and I have our particular set of things to endure (my memory is short, and my thoughts are slippery these day, so I might have, and it might have been yesterday). All people have things to endure; these things just happen to be ours. I believe that our trials can make our relationship with God stronger, for they keep us talking with Him. In this way, good comes despite the bad. During the time I was in my deepest valley, when Jerry was in such imminent danger, I was made aware that I was not alone. I knew without a doubt God was with me. My faith is bolstered by the knowledge that I will never be truly alone ever again (how can I know this and still feel scared beyond what is reasonable at times?). I hear in my mind, "I will never leave you or abandon you." I apologize to Him when my faith fails. I know He understands that I'm only a human, so my faith will fail. I'm not proud of myself when that happens, but I know I'm forgiven whenever it does. He picks me up, puts me back upright, and I can walk a piece farther before falling on my face into the mud again. Sometimes He picks me up by sending special people, like yourself, into my life. I count each one here as a special gift from God. I can hear Him speaking to my heart, saying, "See, I told you that I won't let you be alone." I prayed for you, and here you are. I think He gives each of us here on this forum to each other. The blessing is not for me alone, but for all of us. Jerry and I have not endured nearly so much as so many others on this forum. I'm sharing some of our stories while learning from your stories, and from the stories of the others here. Some wonder which way is easier/better---to lose our loved one suddenly or slowly. For me, I know. As agonizing as it is for me to go through this process slowly, I'm coping with it better than I would have had I lost Jerry as you lost your George, and as my friend Barbara lost her Tom (she found him early one morning dead in the snow on their deck at the 8000 ft elevation; she gave him mouth-to-mouth after he had been gone a few hours; that memory is seared into her brain, and makes her crazy---literally, her son believes). I know how blessed I am to have this time, not only to just be together, but to prepare physically and financially (somewhat). Emotionally, I have no hope to prepare. That is a planned insanity. I've made arrangements already. As for the "How to's," I follow Jerry around like the Paparazzi with a camcorder, iPhone, iPad, and other paraphernalia trying to learn how to take care of myself. I never knew I would need to know how to service the generator, repair the watering system, maintain things I can barely identify, and a host of things that I don't even know about yet! I read somewhere that the widow must learn to fill her husband's roles. I'm to fill Jerry's roles? In the vernacular, Ain't no how. I can do some things, and I am determined to do them well, because somehow, I must find my backbone (curvaceous as it is), and do whatever I must. You, and so many others here, do whatever you must, and your doing so, gives me courage. I'm grateful to you, and I admire you. I do have a gratitude notebook. I have much for which to be grateful. I have little time to write in my notebook, for much of my time is spent writing whatever Jerry's dictated to me throughout the day. I am grateful for a multitude of things regarding this one thing. No, it doesn't help to wonder why one lives, and another doesn't (sometimes we feel anger and hurt because of the apparent unfairness even so). God knows from the time of our conception the moment of our death, and I need to believe He makes the right decision for each one (sometimes not easy to accept). He keeps our tears in a bottle, and each one is precious to Him (each person and each tear). We are loved unconditionally. My eldest sister explained to me the death of our handicapped sister who died "too soon" of a pulmonary embolism. She said that our sister was like a fully ripened ear of corn, she was ready to be chosen by God. I've come to believe my original denial that I am Jerry's caregiver was my resistance to his death. I'm grateful for the privilege to be his caregiver. You are right in all you said about it. I had to work through some things. Thank you for your care regarding my sister. It hurts SO much to lose her. I know I will never see her again, for I cannot go to her. I am helpless to physically help her. I feel (am) so danged helpless regarding her! Because of my need to devote my life and time to Jerry right now, I have no other option but to postpone my grief for her, and for Ashely--and likely Callie soon. I do grief for each loss, but I'm trying to keep it down, for it feels like I can't hold anymore hurt right now. Jerry deserves my all. Blessings and hugs, ❤️ Carrie

Dear Butch, Just a note to tell you that I ask God each day to stay with you to hold you, sustain you, and help you in every way you need help. You take good care of yourself right now, and know that all of us care that you are suffering so deeply. I send you warm hugs. Carrie

Dear Anne, Marty, and Fae, I thank each of you with all my heart. It is because I know so many others here have had such soul mates as I that I know I'm understood. How could anyone who had never had such a soulmate possibly understand and feel what you all feel? You understand because your loves are just as special and just as deep as mine. It is because you still love your precious spouses deeply, and you know they are with you in spirit, and you have had such soul mates, that I have been able to talk here. I believe I've shared more with you than I've ever shared in my life, because for the first time, except with Jerry, and a bit lesser with Amberly, I feel that it's all right---safe. Fae, in order to get to know you, I went back to your introductory letter to Marty, and read forward for a while. When I saw the date of your Doug's death, I was quite affected by it. You and I came very close to sharing an anniversary date. I felt a kind of bond with you, although I had never known you. Perhaps that sounds strange to you. I'm a little surprised myself. This kind of grief still has surprises for me. You had a bit of time with your Doug as I do with Jerry. I would say to prepare, but I'm not sure that's possible. I'm trying to drink him in, and learn from him all at the same time. As I read your posts, I began to realize that I remembered where I was and what was happening to Jerry on several of the dates of your posts. I'm writing from memory, but I believe you first wrote to Marty on 2 February 2013. That was a big treatment day for Jerry. There were several dates that jogged my memories. Because Jerry's surgery, and all that happened at that time, seems like yesterday to me, I know three years is not long for you either. Please know that I care. My thoughts and my prayers will be with you throughout tomorrow. It was long ago that I lost my first husband. I still hurt for him when I remember, and especially on special dates. The raging grief is no more. I have soft memories of young love, and fond memories of going to the museums in Chicago, picnicking on the shore of Lake Michigan after church at La Grange, watching the air traffic at O'Hare airport just for fun, and other happy memories with him. We were both reared in MS, and were married there in his parents' home. We lived in IL five years. Trips into the city were a big thing for us. That death was shocking, terrible, and painful, but I did get through it. It doesn't live with me any longer. I am dreading and fearing the worst hurt I will ever have. I'm trying to prepare in some ways, and have not one whit of hope in others. It's been a bit of a rough day for me because I learned that my sister who was diagnosed with spinal cancer during Christmas week, now has it in her lungs. She will not be treated. She's opting for quality of life over quantity. She is a retired surgical RN, director of nurses, and hospital administrator. She's made an educated decision. Amberly agrees with it. I do also, but it's difficult let her go. I am comforted by knowing that she is being cared for by her daughter who is a RN also. It is almost midnight here, and I think 3 a.m. for you, Marty. I'm tired, so I hope I've actually said what I was trying to say---what is in my heart. Blessings and hugs to all. ❤️❤️❤️ Carrie

Today is an anniversary for me. Memories are pelting my mind, and are forcing me back to the Operating Room waiting area of Memorial Hospital at Modesto, California on 6 February 2013. It was two years ago today that my husband, Jerry, almost died during an attempted surgery to repair a 9-cm aneurysm just off his hepatic artery. The aneurysm had caused complete liver failure. Jerry was orange—not yellow—due to jaundice, and his blue, blue eyes were an odd shade of green. Jerry was in the OR two years ago, at this hour, and within a hair's breadth from death. Jerry went to surgery that day, after being asked by the anesthesiologist whether he understood that he was about to undergo “a big surgery—the biggest of surgeries—there is no bigger surgery.” I understood he was doing his job, but I wished he were less emphatic. We had already been told that Jerry’s chances to live were not good. Even so, Jerry gave me an encouraging smile as they wheeled him away. The OR nurse asked for my cell number, and said that she would keep Amberly and me informed as the surgery progressed. She did so, and gave us a few positive reports, which gave us hope, as we sat together in the waiting area praying. There was more of me in that OR with Jerry than was with Amberly in the waiting room. Before the surgery began, I told Amberly that I would need to be quiet, so I could pray and be with Jerry as much as was possible. I cannot explain how I knew that my Jerry's spirit was leaving his body, but I knew at the moment it happened. I suddenly knew that Jerry had either died, or was in dreadful trouble on the table. I told Amberly that something had gone terribly wrong with her father. She said, "Mama, you can't know that." I said, "You are right, Darling. I can't know, but I do." Within fewer than five minutes, the nurse called again. I could not take that call. The nurse told Amberly that she could give us no more information, and that she must direct us to the doctor for answers to our questions. We both knew then that Jerry was in terrible trouble, but we didn't know to what extent. The hepatic artery bypass surgery was not completed, because Jerry lost six liters of blood ("bled out"). He went into shock, but the surgery team were able to revive him. Several days later, one of Jerry's hospitalists, a Chinese man who took a special interest in Jerry, and wanted to do a study to learn why Jerry "grows" aneurysms, told me that he believed that I did know when Jerry was that near death. He said in cases of rare spousal closeness, one spouse will sometimes feel something of what the other feels (like twins?). I was so appreciative that someone could understand. A case study is being done because of the rarity of the location of Jerry’s aneurysm, the fact that fifty-two coils were inserted into this huge aneurysm (2-3 coils are usual), and the outcome of the surgery. The surgeon told me, “If he lives, I want to do a case study on him.” Jerry is still being watched|observed carefully. Jerry has been compliant with all the doctors ask of him from the beginning. He says that he will give whatever is asked of him in order to help someone in future. We are told to live one day at a time. My heart holds many conflicting emotions today—a mixture of joy and sadness; trust and fear; and hope and discouragement. How does one heart hold all of this? Tomorrow, I will feel better. I’m two years into this roller coaster ride, so I know whatever I’m feeling today, will likely be different tomorrow. Some of you know this story, or at least parts of it. Please forgive me for repeating myself. In truth, I’ll likely do it again. Thank you for being here for me. I know you have hurts of your own, and I care about your hurts also. May God hold each one tenderly. Blessings, Carrie

Dear Shalady, I, too, am so sorry you are hurting, both physically and emotionally. Like Anne, I understand degenerative joint disease. She is right about MRI not showing what is happening with spine/joints. MRI shows what is happening with soft tissue (e.g. muscles). X-rays show what is happening to bones and joints. Do you have a way to either take or have your INR taken? How often do you have it checked, and has the doctor advised you how long you can be off your blood thinner safely? I have to take Jerry's every day, but I know this is not the way it's usually taken. When he has to have surgery (even a lesion removal), he has to go off of his Coumadin, and I have to give him Louvonox injections in his tummy/side twice a day for about ten days. I hate to stick him, as you can imagine. I don't have a problem sticking anyone else. He's been through so much already. My back pain does not radiate down my leg, but Jerry's hip pain radiates to his ankle. Because of how he hurts, I know you are having much pain, and I'm very sorry. Were I with you, I would be trying to give you hot packs, ultrasound, and massage, provided we could get your doctor's permission. I wish I could do that for you. I send you warm hugs, and I will pray for you and with you. Blessings and hugs, Carrie

Harry, I cannot add to what has been said, for it has been said so well. It's all true. Each one of you is making a huge difference in my life, and I thank you, and I thank God for you. Carrie

I send you hugs, and join the others here who are so sorry you are hurting. I lost my little Ashley (photo) on October 10 to kidney disease at age fourteen. Our other baby, her cousin Callie, also has kidney disease. If Callie can live to June 29, she will have lived to age fifteen. I weighed her last night, and she has lost weight (from 9 to 8.5 lbs), and her breath has the telling smell of urea. I tell you these things to let you know that I know somewhat of your fear of another loss. Many here understand, and we hurt for you. I send you warm hugs, and I will pray for you. Blessings, Carrie

Thank you very much, Anne and Marty. ❤️❤️ Blessings, Carrie

Dear cee, I am so very sorry you lost your husband. My heart goes out to you. Of course, your husband will always live with you within your heart and spirit. God made you one, and so your husband will always be a part of you as long as you live. As long as someone is alive to remember the love, love lives. That isn't original, but it's true. I'm glad you are here with us now. Marty is right in saying that you will find this a very warm and friendly place. We will be here for you with our arms open wide. I am one of many others who offer you friendship and care. You don't have to hold your moans of grief inside of you. There will be others here on the forum who are more qualified to advise you, but I know that it's all right to cry as long---and as loudly---as you want to. It's good to cry and moan, because you find release of some emotions as you do so. God gave us tear ducts for this purpose. Blessings and hugs, Carrie

Dear Anne, I was just sitting here wondering how you are. I'm delighted that your physical therapy is helping you. I'm glad you didn't need to take the cortisone injection. There are more pleasant things than getting cortisone shots, but they do tend to make you feel as though you have a new body part for a while. My brother-in-law wrote to me this morning from SC that he had a cortisone shot in his knee, and feels like he has a new knee today. I'm glad to hear your hip pain is dissipating. You always focus on so many positive things, and then share them with the rest of us. Thank you. Like you, I wish I could send some of our warmth to those who are in such cold areas of our country. I'm in the office with the windows open while looking at flowering plum trees that are turning pink way too soon. I just heard from Jerry's cousin in Ohio. She was expecting a temperature of 7 degrees. Ouch! She is concerned about being able to get to her dialysis treatment, which she needs three times a week. Blessings, Carrie

Dear Hoping, Just a note to let you know that you and your family are in my thoughts and prayers today. May God bless you and hold you tenderly. May He give you just the right people for you at the hospital and wherever you have need. The social worker at the hospital was compassionate and helpful to me. Perhaps you should find one to talk with without waiting until later. I'm learning to find resources for help before I need it. Come back and share with us whenever you want to and are ready. We all care. Blessings and hugs, Carrie

Dear Fae, Thank you very much for writing to me. I welcome you to my life as a new friend, and I look forward to getting to know you better. I have been getting to know you by reading your posts. I sense you are a kind, caring, deep, sensitive soul who possesses an inner strength that enables you to meet your challenges with strength and dignity and win. I find you both delicate and strong. I find much to admire in you; not only for your accomplishments, but for who you are as a person. I have been reading your earliests posts for a couple of days. Although our backgrounds are quite different, there are close commonalities between us. As we are all the same at the feet of holy God, we all are one in grief and healing. Thank you for making me feel welcome here to your fire and to your Tribe. Your flowers sound lovely also. I'm unfamiliar with Indian Blanket and Calgary Carpet, but I do have both red and yellow yarrow. My sage is Mexican, rather than Russian. I often wish the yarrow did more for the birds and bees. I'm unaware of anything they do, except to please the eye. Thank you for telling me that our place sounds beautiful. I'm telling myself that it will be beautiful even if it must go back to its natural state and place in the forest. That is the way we found it, and loved it it as it was. I'm also telling myself that I'm being greedy to want it to be as we've made it to be. We turned one lot into what we call our "Jerry Hall Park," because he always wanted to make it look like a park (Amberly named it; he would never have been so prideful). I just feel a loss as I lose each of my much-loved plants. I will adjust. There are much bigger adjustments for me to make. Blessings, Carrie

Dear Kay, You are strong and persevering like the lovely pansy. People often misjudge the pansy, because it looks so fragile and delicate. Because we've planted pansies in our buckets, we've learned that although harsh weather comes and smacks the little pansies' faces into the snow, they pull their faces out, and stand tall again. The down time is temporary; like you, they come up smiling, and fighting back. Blessings, Carrie

Dear Marty, I’ve read what you’ve written regarding your bone and joint problems. I’m so sorry these things happened to you. You’ve been through much more than I. You surely do understand joint pain. I’m happy to learn we both like to play in the dirt still (smile). I’ve decided to cover some areas with California poppies, Chinese Forget-me-Not, and alyssum, because they’re pretty, re-seed themselves (bird and bee food), and are easy to care for. I’ve always had these, but I’ve planted them “all over” now. God is good. He gives us beautiful flowers that require little bending. Did you know Chinese Forget-me-Nots are edible? You are right about container gardening. I’ve used pots (also kitchen pans into which I've drilled holes into the bottom), but I’ve never had a window box. I'll bet yours are lovely. I’ve found container gardening fun for a few decades, even before I needed to pare down (I like “pare” better than “slow”). We knew this time of our lives would come “someday,” so we planned for it somewhat. Jerry built some raised beds for me, and would have built more had I not said that he’d built enough (I wish I hadn’t done that). Many years ago, I bought 30-40 silver, galvanized steel buckets, and painted them a light creamed-coffee brown. Jerry built shelves around the front deck for them, and added an automated watering and draining system (drains to another garden down below). We still use these buckets. We like velvety, deep-purple petunias, with white ones added for contrast, in them. We also like portulacca in them, especially when just the right petunias aren’t available. I also use half-wine barrels (love these!), but I learned the hard way to not put them on a redwood deck, even though they were set on stone blocks. We had to replace both the front and back decks, because I rotted the joists! Those were the most expensive flowers we ever had. I thank you, Marty, and each of you who has been so caring as to suggest hospice or palliative care to me for Jerry. I've talked with Amberly and Jerry about these organizations. Amberly says that Jerry doesn't qualify for hospice, and she isn't sure about palliative care. We will talk with our primary physician. I believe we will be seeing him within a month. Although this is difficult to adjust to, as it is for others, we will accept whatever help is available to us, and with grateful hearts. Thus far, I've been able to do all that is necessary for us, except drive (danged Meniere's!). Because we had such a positive experience with visiting nurses, and a visiting doctor, during our required two-month stay in the motel in Modesto after Jerry was discharged from the hospital, I planned to have them come here, if we need help again. Amberly says that hospice is very small in our rural area. Jerry has such a wonderful attitude. When we talked about hospice and palliative care, he smiled at me, and told me that he's going to live at least another ten or fifteen years, and he just might. No one expected him to make it this long. I could die before he does. I know he's trying to comfort me. My mother used to say that Jerry can fix anything. Amberly says that he can fix anything from broken dolls to broken hearts (without him, who would fix mine?). He is our "go to" person in our family. He always knows what to do about everything. There are others to whom I wanted to write today, but could not. We learned today that a friend died. He was the manager of a local bank. Blessings and hugs, Carrie

Uh oh regarding your doggie. Thank you for saying my baby is cute. I might need some hand-holding as I learn how to do the photos. Amberly and I tried hard, but just didn't get it figured. I'll keep trying. Thanks for the information. Carrie

Dear Kay, I was playing with you about the mahonia. I really like it, and ours is beginning to bloom too soon. I planted it all over the place here, because it gives us pretty yellow flowers, feeds the birds, and gives the birds shelter for their babies. The robins and western grosbeaks (orange and black, rather than red and black as they are in the Midwest, and I think, on the East Coast) share the mahonia beds. Mahonia also makes a good ground cover to keep our hills from becoming our neighbor's. I am familiar with your Douglas Fir. We've made many trips through Oregon while Jerry and I were still traveling in our business. I've seen these trees in your beautiful state, and I have one small room that has a "Doug fir" floor. We like the wood. Our county isn't keeping up with isn't keeping up with the care of our roads well either. We joke about CalTrans filling the potholes after they lose one of their workers in a hole. Perhaps they just can't do any better. No one asked me to manage their money (smile). I'm good at managing money actually. I've been told that I can squeeze a penny until Lincoln squeals (I'm Scottish and Scots-Irish, so I'm licensed to do that; I've also needed to do so). Yes, we are indeed blessed to have Amberly nearby. Were it not for her, we would be moving right away, for there is no way we could live on this hill without her. We count her at the top of our many blessings. I'm sorry your children don't live near you, especially now that you are soon to become a grandmother. I'm sure your sister is very appreciative for your help. Sometimes I'm tempted to drive regardless of my having Meniere's. It's usually not long in the day before something happens that reminds me that to do so is dangerous, not only for me, but for others. I will do it if I must (life-threatening situation), but it would be like someone driving intoxicated. Perhaps one way to explain what Meniere's feels like to me is to say that it's similar to walking in a small boat while it's moving on water. I've adjusted to it to a great degree here on our property, but I'm sometimes uncomfortable in unfamiliar places. I must look up, or around, slowly (not good for driving, huh?), or risk starting to topple. This is not always so. I just never know when it will happen. I sleep with a light on in order to tell which way is up, should I have an episode during the night. By the grace of God, I did well at the hospital. My doctor says that I did well due to my natural cortisol kicking in. God gave me my natural cortisol, so He gets the credit anyway. As for an agency that provides rides, there are two (I think two), but we don't qualify. Amberly said that she has been trying very hard to get rides for two patients who do qualify (MediCal), but their doctors must agree, and do their parts. Doctors typically hate to do paperwork (imagine that). Amberly is an animated, tenacious advocate for the clinic's patients. She fights their battles for them to get prior auths for medications, surgeries at the universities, etc. She seems to take each one on as a personal challenge to get the patient what he or she needs. Many medications are now being changed or denied, and many surgeries are delayed or denied. She's worked in the medical field a lot of years, and has never seen it this way. It's frustrating for her. The new insurance rules are difficult to work with for everyone. I showed her your post regarding rides, and she said, "You don't qualify." Well, then, I'll take that as a positive, because at least now I know. Education is good. I got wound up on something I hear from Amberly almost daily. I hope I've said nothing offensive. I will write regarding Hospice and Palliative care tomorrow. I'm going through a bit of another adjustment. Please understand, and bear with me. Because you, and so many others here, have gone through similar things, and are managing, I have hope. I thank you all for this hope. I've found such relief after finding all of you on this forum. It's just so difficult to think of Jerry and these wonderful, helpful, and much-needed agencies connected. I'll be fine again by tomorrow. I can do this. I must, and so I will. Blessings and hugs, Carrie

Dear Hoping, I am so very sorry all of this is happening to you. I am not qualified to advise you, but I can tell you I care very much. This is a place where you can talk with us and say whatever you feel like saying, and without judgment. We will wrap our arms around you, and will love you through it. I can't really even imagine what you are going through. Bless your heart. Were I near, I would come to help you. Warm hugs, Carrie

I meant to explain what Ashely was doing. She was asking Jerry for a bite of his spaghetti. Doesn't everyone let their dogs sit at the table with them? She took my chair beside Jerry while I was in the kitchen. She looks like she's praying (maybe she was). Carrie

This is to introduce our Ashely Rose. Amberly and I tried hard to learn to put her photo here, but were only able to put her where a photo of me belongs. This will work until we can learn to put her in a post along with Catey. After then, we would like to add Callie and Beauregard. We lost our wee Ashely on 10 October 2014. I'm beginning to tear up, but at least I was able to hang tough and do what I needed to do. Thanks, you all, for your encouragement. Carrie

Dear Hoping, Just a note to tell you that I'm thinking of you this morning, and I now ask our Heanenly Father to hold you, to uplift you, and to meet all your needs today. I send you a warm hug. Carrie

Dear Anne and Shalady, I know without one doubt that God has given you, and others on this caring, compassionate forum, to me (to us). Truly, God answered my prayers, and gave me you. You have already made my life easier by just being here with me. I ask no more than what I have. Jerry and I agree that if we could only stay as we are, we would ask for no more. Amberly usually makes our appointments, because she knows the best time for her. As nurse supervisor of a fast-paced clinic, she has to be there most of the time, especially if a provider is working still. She tells us to not fret, that if she knows ahead of time, she can put in for time off. Like many others, I'm just learning that hospice is more than I knew, yet I know little about it still. I do know that one of Amberly's nursing instructors is now a hospice nurse. Amberly learned this one night when she was still working as charge nurse on the rehab unit, and her instructor came to see a patient as hospice nurse. Of course, there were a lot of happy hugs. I'm glad to know hospice might be an option, but I don't want to ask for this help unless we are in trouble. I don't want to take advantage, or take a hospice worker away from someone who has a greater need. I believe tonight will be better than last night, Shalady. Jerry has been pain free all day. Because the OxyContin is addictive, he doesn't take it until he just can't tolerate the pain any longer. He was in pain all day yesterday, but he still worked on Quick Books in our office (home office). I think he waited too long to take the medicine, and the pain level got out of control. He shook (shuddered) throughout the night. I held him tightly, and downward toward the bed, in an effort to keep the shaking from being so hard. He couldn't control it. Until Jerry went to the hospital, after we got our dump trailer filled with pine needles, he would haul the needles away to the slash place (where they use it, and sell it back to us as electricity). Since that time, we've hired someone to haul the needles away. We live in a forest of huge pine trees, so there are a lot of needles. It doesn't take long for them to become inches deep (if you start to slide on a slope, it's best to "ski" to the bottom). Now, I think we must hire the raking done on the lot, and the terraced areas. Part of my balking is my arm wrestling old age. I have had a scare. I must not break myself and wind up in rehab, because Jerry depends on me. My days of working in my gardens appear to be coming to an end due to arthritis (!!!!!). The things you said a few days ago about your own back pain, Anne, is understood. I've been taking out roses, mahonia (Oregon Grape; Kay might know this plant, even though she doesn't garden ), and several other plants since Jerry got sick. I'm really hoping to keep the gardens on the lot that the house is on. Jerry loves the roses, and Amberly says that she will feed them twice a year (requires bending). I've promised him that for as long as I can, I'll see that the roses on this lot will stay. Ecclesiastes comes to mind--a time for everything. Thank you both for your kind thoughts and prayers. God bless you both really well. Warm hugs to both, Carrie

Dear Marty, I love you already. You make me laugh aloud, and cry with gratitude for the understanding I've found here. Thank you. Blessings and hugs, ❤️ Carrie

Dear Kay, Please see the letter I wrote earlier. Jerry is awake now, so I'm free to move off the bed to go feed Callie and Beauregard, and to change their potty boxes. Thank you so much for caring about me.❤️ Hugs, Carrie

Dear Shalady, Thank you for your care. I am very sorry that you may need to sell your home. That has to hurt badly, and things will likely be traumatic for you when you return, especially at first. It would be for me, so I have concern for you. At this time of our lives, we are a little uneasy about being able to keep home also, but since Amberly wants to keep it, perhaps we can work it out somehow. Getting to medical care is our big problem. We live in snow country. It's the black ice that is so dangerous. The decks might look clear, but not be. Obviously, pine needles can be sneaky also . Please see the letter I wrote, for it was written for you also. Hugs, Carrie

Harry, Thank you so much for responding. I've read many of your posts, and I feel like I am beginning to know you. I am so sorry for your loss of your Jane. I look forward to your posts, for I have begun to want to know how you are, and what you are doing. I'm glad you are managing during your blizzard. Poor Butch! You are completely right in all that you said to me, and I thank you for caring enough to write to me. Please see my letter above, for it is meant for you also. You've suffered a lot of loss. I'm sorry. Blessings, Carrie