TerriL

Butch, sometimes, I'll go for periods of time where I will just read the posts here. I can't say anything until I feel ready to do it. I lost my husband, the love of my life, last October and I still have trouble processing that he's gone. It was sudden and such a shock. I know what you mean when you say there is so much suffering. I'm sorry we all have to be here. I still can't figure out how I'm supposed to live life without my Paul by my side. Terri

I recently suspended my lawn service because we were getting no rain and my short grass was burning up. I also did not care for the divots left behind by the commercial mower they used. I'm thinking of getting an affordable electric or reel mower and cutting it myself. Like you with Billy's sander, my joints can't handle the rope yanking or lifting gas cans that go with using Paul's old gas mower. Someone told me that reel mowers are difficult for women to push, but I have no clue. I do like the idea though of no power source or cords and no fumes. I'm feeling like Rosie the Riveter! We can DO it! Seriously, you're inspiring me! Karen, I have those kinds of moments all the time and they can just hit you without warning. I've said it before, but it genuinely feels like someone has punched you in the stomach when it happens. I guess that must be why they use the phrase "it hits you". I have to suddenly catch my breath and then, the tears come. I'm kind of disappointed to think our red light days are over. Like Marg and her washing machines, I figured I'd make enough for at least a few Papa John's pizzas. Haha! But, I respect myself far too much to join a human sex ring. You just have to draw the line somewhere, you know? Hey everyone! Party at Marg's house! Just look for the cherry red door! Have a peaceful evening ladies and try to have sweet dreams. ?

Marg, I can see we'd be great neighbors. Two crazy widow ladies running through the yard on Halloween with costumes on. HAHA! I also love Grace and Frankie---I think Frankie is the hippie chick. I have always loved Lily Tomlin and used to do a spot-on imitation of her character, Ernestine, back in the Laugh-In days. What surprised me (and for those on here who are still very new to grief, they may think I'm being disrespectful, but truly, I am not) was the first time I laughed at something not long after Paul died. I thought that there definitely had to be something wrong with me, that I could laugh when my world had suddenly collapsed. Then I gave it some thought and realized that I've always used humor as a stress buffer. I've had friends who lost someone or who want through a horrible divorce and I would say something that would cause them to laugh. Instead of getting angry, they would be grateful. My deepest belief is that still being able to laugh IS that light that shines through the cracks of a shattered life or is that light at the end of a long tunnel (that isn't a train). It's a sign that you're still in there, no matter if it feels as if all of you has left this world with your loved one. You have to find something, anything., that makes you laugh or at least smile once in a while. On Thanksgiving, I ended up binge-watching that show Younger, on TV Land. I loved it and I laughed and now I'm hooked on the show. Haha! I love Kimmy Schmidt, too. I love the Carol Kane character, Lillian. She is such a riot. But, aside from the comedy, that show is about survival and doing what you have to do to stand up on your own two feet. It's harder than simply giving in and it's a struggle, but in the end, it's worth it. That's a great message for what we're all experiencing. I understand what you mean about Billy's presence. I also feel Paul around me. Not all the time, but many times I just sense him being there. I believe I've gotten help, signs or messages from him when I've needed them. Some people may find that to be "woo woo" stuff, but they've happened in ways and at times that were far too connected to something I'd just said or asked for them to be mere coincidences. At least in my mind. I spent most of January (the 25th was the 34th anniversary of our first date) listening to all the music that was popular back at that time. It brought so many memories flooding back, along with tears, but I had to do it. By the time the actual day arrived, I was very uplifted and knew he was around. But, you're right! I won't listen to songs that are sad, but that isn't always a guarantee, is it! One day, I heard "Always Something There To Remind Me" (the Naked Eyes version) and the lyrics made me start crying because they're exactly what I've been feeling. The song sounds upbeat, but the lyrics kicked my behind. I do hope that all is going well with your painting. I think it's great that you are tackling things like that. My hat is off to you, Queen of the Screwdriver! You're making me feel guilty that I should be handling the wild bougainvillea plant outside my bedroom window! There are stems growing up and out, looking like tentacles lying in wait to snag their prey! Yes, Paul is now looking at me and no doubt, shaking his head. :::sigh:::

Marg, I always wanted to do that, too. As a kid, I'd put on my go-go boots and dance around my living room to "These Boots Are Made For Walkin'" by Nancy Sinatra. Hullaballoo, Shindig and of course, American Bandstand, were my favorite shows---aside from Dark Shadows. I really wanted to grow up to become a go-go dancer in a cage wearing a short mini-dress, fishnet tights and boots. Who knew my occupation would be phased out by the time I reached the age to do it? I'd be more than happy to join you now, although some might pay me more money if I only threatened to do it. "We'll pay double if you DON'T!" Haha!

Marg, you flaunt that Mardi Gras-looking wreath of yours and be proud! As long as you don't get car loads of women driving by, lifting their tops for beads, then there's no problem! Kay, your Avon story made me literally laugh out loud! It sounds so much like something I would do! "Open mouth, insert foot." Haha! I do like the thought of "adventurous daring", but there's probably an extremely thin line between that and "total insanity". Have you ladies heard of the Advanced Style movement? Women over 60 who epitomize their own versions of style, whether it's classic or completely out there. We should get some tutus and striped tights and start our own. No one would even be looking at what color our walls are!

Maryann, thank you for sharing that information and passage with us. I just ordered the book, too. It sounds like something I can do every day to start my morning or whenever I need motivation or comfort. Short daily passages are realistic and "do-able", even for those whose attention spans have been overwhelmed by their grief.

George, that was a great song. I'm holding on to it for those times I need motivation. Thank you for sharing it with us. Until now, I've been using the theme song from Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt when I need a spirit boost. What can I say? Whatever works and doesn't cause harm is my motto.

Kay, thank you for your empathy regarding my family situation. They're pretty much about themselves. That old joke fits perfectly, where someone is going on and on about themselves and then says, "Well, enough about me! Let's talk about YOU! What do you think of me?" HAHA! Yep! I hate to have to say it, but hat's actually close to the truth. I also agree that staying in the present moment is a healthy way to handle our situations. At the risk of using yet another quote (I'm into quotes these days, for some reason) and I'm paraphrasing here---living in the past fuels depression and living in the future fuels anxiety. Only by living in the present can we find happiness. Of course, in our cases, happiness may not always be possible, but at least we can find some sanity and calm. Right here, right now, I'm commenting to my new friends. I can do this. I can get through this. I'll just have to deal with the rest of the day one moment at a time, as it comes. Right now, it isn't raining, but later on, it might be. I have no way to tell. (Neither do the weather people.) I am not always great at these "methods"---I have break downs all the time---but I try to not give up. I'll never stop talking to Paul, I don't care what anyone else thinks. I look at his picture and talk to him. It makes me feel better and I'm not hurting anyone, so why not? Kay, the only thing I could think of when you mentioned customers at the paint/wallpaper store wanting black and fluorescent green paints for their walls, was black lights and black light posters. When I was a teen in the 70s, some of my friends had black walls in their rooms and they'd hang those fluorescent colored posters up. Then, they'd switch on the black light and everything would GLOW. Including our white T-shirts. Haha!

Gwen, Polly, everyone---you touched on something I've been feeling, too, and didn't express. I also wonder who I am anymore. I look like me, but inside, it feels like all that I used to be has been hollowed out. I catch myself just doing the most mundane things to "kill time", as you say. It's a distraction to keep from having to think. At times, I felt like I was "holding down the fort" until Paul returned and then, yes, it hits you that this is forever. You're forced to accept that he isn't coming back and you won't ever see him in this life again. That thought just hits you right in the gut. I even had to stop playing one of my favorite games on my tablet because I used to play it most nights to unwind before bedtime. Paul would get up off the couch after watching some TV, come over and kiss me goodnight and go to bed before me. Now, since his passing, the music of this game and the game itself is too much of a reminder of our usual nightly routine when he was alive. I tried playing it at first, but I'd only get so far before I'd break down crying. So, I quit playing that one and took up another in its place. The fact that we all feel the same emotions and are exhibiting the same behaviors, no matter how divergent our lifestyles may be, never fails to amaze me. At first, I always thought I had to be the only one going through this or that until I came here and began reading the comments from all of you. I could have written what you were saying, word for word. That hasn't changed.

Wow, Mitch! 14 1/2 months. I can't even imagine. When I realized last week that I was hitting the seven month mark, it shocked me. I'm thinking, "How can that possibly be? How can that much time have passed so quickly already?" In 34 years, Paul and I had never been apart that long. The longest was maybe a couple of weeks when he'd visit his ailing father and someone had to stay behind to care for the animals. (Yeah. No help then either!) I will say that there have been times I've found courage where I thought none existed. Growing up and even into adulthood, I had a father who always told me I'd never be able to take care of myself and that i would always need my family to take care of me. My husband did take care of me but it wasn't because he thought me incapable. It was because he wanted to make me happy. When Paul died, my knee jerk reaction was to panic and think I had to rely on the family I had left. This is why I ended up dealing with my brother in law at first, who immediately went into his "control" mode, using sarcasm, condescending, judgmental remarks and withholding help from me when I wouldn't agree with his way of handling a situation. I finally had enough, stood up to him and stopped relying on his "help" altogether. I'm not perfect. A few of my decisions have been less than stellar, and there are certain things that are still a little more difficult because I decided to kick unhelpful people to the curb and go it alone. But, overall, I am proud of myself for standing on my own two feet when I'd been taught that I'd never be able to do it. Now, I KNOW Paul was proud of me when I did that! I could hear him inside my head telling me to do it. He never could stand my brother in law anyway. HAHA! There, I found something positive to take away from all this.

I do talk about Paul to people who will listen and who care. I have stopped talking about him to my family because I'm told I dwell and talk about it too much and that I'm like anyone else and just need to pull myself together. But, I do try to honor Paul in whatever way I'm capable of doing it. That's why I climbed a step ladder and attempted to fix that light fixture and went outside and chopped down that weed. Compared to where a few of you are in the process, I know I'm not really far along at all and even the prospect of seeing a new place or having a new and different experience depresses me because I would want Paul to be there with me, holding my hand. Until life suddenly threw us the worst curveball imaginable, I didn't see anything in my world---present or future---without him right by my side. All the plans we'd been making just fell apart and I was left here, sitting on top of this pile of ruined plans and broken dreams, trying to figure out how to piece something together out of them that resembles a life. And it doesn't work---like gluing a shattered glass vase. You might be able to eventually stick some flowers in it, but it will never hold water again. Not like before.

This is what I love about this forum. I read all of your replies and gain so much comfort and wisdom from them. I know what you are all saying is the truth and the only way to keep moving forward. It's just that sometimes, it's hard to put it into practice when you're in the middle of a frustrating issue. All the feelings of grief and helplessness will come flooding back at the most unusual moments. Some things Paul used to do I "sort of" learned myself by watching him. I did manage to change the fluorescent tubes in the utility room light fixture (Paul always made sure we had spare bulbs around---still looking after me), but they STILL won't come on! If I wiggle one, it begins to flicker, but that's about it. :/ In all honesty, I've never cared for fluorescent lighting; it bothers my eyes. I also managed to get outside last week and cut down this giant weed---nightshade---that I was told (by a Master Gardener with my county) had toxic properties. I put on my long sleeved shirt and gloves and cut it all down, tossed it into a garbage bag and it went out with the trash. (My neck and shoulders hurt afterward, but I was so proud of myself that day! HAHA!) Marg, you mentioned something that also happened to me and is the reason why I've avoided going back on Facebook for months now. It was only a few months after Paul had passed and I thought I'd go on Facebook and try "connecting" with others again. I posted a picture I found to be very amusing on my wall and then, here came the comments, "Oh! So glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humor!" and "Happy to see you're all better now!" Honestly, I don't believe in violence unless it's in self-defense, but I truly wanted to punch them right then and there. It's a good thing we were online. I'm so sorry for ALL the things you are dealing with Marg. Between your mother and sister, your son and grandson and the loss of the love of your life---and over fifty years together, no less---I think you are Wonder Woman, lady! I haven't wanted to hurt myself, but I do understand that feeling of "Why was I left behind?". I feel guilty that Paul is no longer here with me to enjoy the things we loved to do---and only did---together. I think about those times we enjoyed and then, it hits me that I will never again have that. Ever. Certain things were just too tied in with him being there with me that I don't even want to return to certain places, even if accompanied by a friend. Those experiences have gone with him. I believe that hugging a wall might be a good thing. Or tree-hugging. I'm all for that.

Thank you, Marty, for posting that. I also ordered the book. It's funny that this topic should come up, since I've also been struggling with things that Paul was able to do without a second thought. He was a very skilled and knowledgable mechanic, handyman, etc. You name it, he could build it or fix it! Me? I've been doing laundry in half darkness because my utility room light fixture is on the blink, our above ground pool that used to be so crystal clear and well-maintained is a deep, dark algae green and some of our blooming hedges and plants are overgrown and in need of trimming. Oh, and our vehicles have such thick layers of dirt on them that I was able to write his name on his truck. My joints are not what they used to be since my illness and I don't have all that much help, unless I pay more money for it. I need to eventually take down the pool or sell his truck, but I'm still not quite at that stage yet. He loved that truck so much and we had so many great times in that pool. I used to get such relaxation and comfort by walking out into our beautiful yard and dangling my feet in the pool, but now, in their present states, it just depresses me. I do feel as if I've let Paul down.

Good morning everyone, I haven't commented for a while, but I'm always reading the different posts. I felt as if I really had nothing more valuable to contribute than what was already being said. However, Maryann's and Marg's posts made me want to come out of the woodwork. Today is what would have been my husband's 68th birthday. It's another "first" since his passing. It's also the 7th month mark since Paul passed away. I suppose I've adjusted in some ways, but I'm still thinking along the same lines as you are, Maryann. "Am I where I'm SUPPOSED to be?" "Am I doing this correctly?"---as if there's really any such thing to begin with. There isn't a rule book as far as I know. I have used this forum as my solace, as an extended family of people who "get me" and, for now at least, in place of a professional counselor. I've tried making appointments with a therapist, but cannot bring myself to actually go. The thought of having to get myself there, sit and talk about everything and then come back home to an empty house is still too much for me. Much in the same way I post on here, I can only talk about it all when I'm READY to talk. Making an appointment to talk just doesn't work for me right now. As they say, what's right for one, is not the right thing for another. Plus, I do have to admit that the thought of having to make a co-payment every single week freaks me out a little. I already have additional expenses on top of the usual ones because I have to now pay for the things that Paul used to do himself and my income has been reduced by over half. Trying to put your broken life back together into a "new normal" isn't easy at all and is sometimes a process of one step forward, two steps back. (With many tears in between.) I had one of those "cowering" moments last week with a situation, but by the weekend, I was angry at myself for having reacted like that and regained my perspective. My belief system is more along the lines of the Earth-based religions, but it's all basically about loving, honoring and respecting yourself and others. Especially those who have gone before us. I'm trying my best to honor Paul in small ways. I'm not 100% great at this yet, but I don't let that stop me from trying. Marg, I laughed at your comment about Billy retaining his jealous gene, even in the more peaceful eternity he resides in now. I picture my Paul being much the same way. One of the retired firefighters he used to work with called me a few months ago, urging me to attend the annual retirees' picnic. I politely declined to attend, saying that I got the feeling that Paul would not really be thrilled at the prospect of my going without him. Of course, whether or not he'd truly feel that way is anyone's guess, but it's the feeling that I got and that's all that counts right now. I loved your Eleanor Roosevelt meme. She was indeed a woman ahead of her time. I hope that wherever she might be, she is proud to know that her work and her ideals are valued and as true today as they were while she still walked the planet. Besides this forum, that's another thing that has comforted and inspired me in the wake of my husband's death: seeking out stories and quotes about and from inspirational women who have faced the same issues and come through them with even more strength and success than before. They instill hope within me when my own is flagging. We also have each other on here. Thank you ALL for your honesty, compassion and your support. Even when I'm only in "reading mode" and not commenting, you still help me tremendously. I wanted you all to know that. Sending love and blessings to you!

Mitch, George and Kay: I am stunned. Truly. I'm hurting for you as I read about the nightmares you've gone through with your loved ones. Yes, there are some brilliant medical personnel out there and when you find them, you keep them and appreciate them like the rare precious stones that they are. Our dermatologist is one of those people and a dentist I used to have a long time ago, but who moved his practice from my area was another one. I only wish every doctor or dentist I encountered were like those two. When I canceled (upon his passing) Paul's dermatologist appointment he had pre-scheduled months before, our doctor was out of town. But, a week later, on a Sunday night, I received a call and it was our dermatologist, calling on his own personal cell phone, expressing his shock and giving his condolences to me. He had returned from his vacation, gone in to his office on Sunday morning to get things ready for the following day and happened to see the note they left about Paul. He had only seen my husband about a month before and the news just blew him away. (I know that feeling, Doc.) The doctor also said that if I needed anything, I should not hesitate to call him. Now THAT is something you do not experience every day. I already knew he was one of the good ones, but that just cemented it for me. I am with George in that I prefer finding natural ways to treat and prevent rather than just automatically downing a bunch of drugs. After all, many drugs are derived from plants, herbs, etc., in nature and the Chinese have been using herbs for thousands of years. Add to that the fact that the body comes with its own ability to heal itself and reestablish balance, when it's working properly. I once heard someone say that Western medicine is the go-to for trauma or people in acute distress, like a stroke or heart attack, but it still has so much to learn about preventive medicine and treating the whole person, mind, body and soul. This is yet another bone of contention between me and my sister. She's worked for our local hospital system for over 40 years and continues to work there. She always defends the doctors and medical community and boasts about being "surrounded by science" all day long. I'm a huge fan of science myself, but feel that doctors are dealing with human beings and therefore, instead of looking at them as "scientific case studies", they should look at them as the unique individuals they are and treat them accordingly. No two individuals will respond the same way to the same treatment. I had to listen to my sister explain "hospital protocol" the whole time I was dealing with Paul's situation, explaining the social worker telling me about how people need beds in the ICU. That's where Paul was when I was told about the bed situation. After the failed surgery, he had been placed in ICU. I have a close friend who has been living with lupus since her teen years. She is now 57 and still struggling with it. She has been dealing with the same doctor for so many years, never really getting any better and finally, after becoming fed up, she discovered a holistic doctor in her area who saw her, ran many tests and was appalled at the drug protocol that this other physician had her on. Drugs that interact with each other, one drug that she was showing an allergy to, etc. Just a mess. I am praying and hoping for her to finally find the relief and help that she has been seeking so desperately. She is just the sweetest, kindest person, too. She has been thinking of me and what I've been dealing with at the same time she's been going through all her own medical battles. There ARE angels on Earth. But, we commiserate constantly on the state of the medical establishment in this country.

I can feel all the frustration in our posts about the medical community! The medical establishment could truly use an overhaul, but I fear that so much money is being made this way that the powers that be want to maintain the status quo. Why switch up the very thing that's keeping you rolling in dough? Brad, I hear ya. My belief is that teaching is one of the most noble (albeit, thankless at times) professions and I know how much I owe to a few extra special teachers I had who saw my potential and encouraged me. You are more than your disease, Brad. I feel so bad for all of us with what we've encountered and endured at hospitals and with these doctors. I feel for our sweet spouses who went through just as much if not more. This is just one of those down days. I've been thinking of Paul all day and missing him so much. Guess what, Paulie? I actually remembered to clean the filter on the air conditioner and figured out how to do it by myself! You'd be proud of me. I'm trying to not let you down.

JHCP, In truth, I am so much like a guy in that respect. I do not care for doctors or dentists (having had so many negative experiences over the years with them) and it's like trying to pull teeth from a chicken to get me to go to one. I was diagnosed a couple of years ago with Crohn's and I didn't go to the doctor until I was at 86.5 pounds. Every joint in my body was hurting me. I finally went, at Paul's urging. He stayed with me every step of the way, even when they took 15 vials of blood from me. I don't know how I would have gotten through that without him. He held my hand the whole time and talked me through it. I also understand how your Jack felt about his illness. I've had an anxiety disorder since I was a teenager and someone once suggested I start a support group for that when I could not find one locally. I considered it, but I was afraid of becoming a "poster child" for my disorder. I want to be thought of as more than my anxiety or even my Crohn's and maybe that's also how Jack felt. But, yes, Paul was a stubborn one. I wish I had forced him to go to the ER. I was the one who kept saying that it might not be his eye, that it could just be a coincidence that the eye that was treated had the vision loss. That eye treatment kind of threw us a curve ball and kept me from pressing the issue as hard as I should have.

Marg, you were in such a difficult position at that time. When we're in the heat of the moment and so many things are coming at us at once, the fact that we have to also make life and death decisions for our loved ones in these moments is nothing short of insanity. We are having to keep our wits about us when our worlds are spinning out of control. The only way I could make any decisions at all when Paul fell unconscious is to reach into my memory and pull out everything he had ever said to me when we would talk about such things over the years. Honestly, that is the only thing that got me through it and let me know I was making the decisions HE wanted. But, don't beat yourself up about it, Marg. In the middle of all that, you are in shock, you are confused, you are just trying to keep going one step at a time. And KarenK, I totally believe in Karma! My anger in the beginning was so overwhelming, it was actually scaring ME. I was so worried that I would be next in line to have a medical event if I didn't find a way to deal with it. That's when I began trying to meditate. I'm not great at it yet, but I'm not giving it up. I do notice a calmer attitude when I'm doing it consistently. You are so right---our anger eats us up and leaves the other people going about their every day lives. Do any of those medical personnel think about my Paul now? Heck, no. They were on to the next one as soon as they got the bed free. Probably one of those "27" in the ER the social worker was "kind" enough to inform me about.

Oh yeah! The mess! I used to clean up the messes when Paul would cook. Come to think of it, I'd do that when I'd cook, too. And the prep part wears me out, too. If I could get someone to peel, chop, slice, dice, etc. all the components for me, the cooking wouldn't be near as bad.

Hollowheart, I understand exactly where you're coming from and nothing I say will help your hurt right now, but, I can tell you that none of us is perfect. Just like the person going through it, we also don't want to suspect that the worst could be happening. When my mom had her first heart attack, she was throwing up, had diarrhea, was gray in color and broken out own a cold sweat and she was in total denial about what was going on. Of course, when symptoms are that acute, you do call rescue. Vague symptoms---especially those that come and go---are so much harder to call and we do our best, but we are only human. Would we both do it differently if we could go back? Absolutely. You did not deliberately want to cause your sister harm and it isn't your fault. Deep down, I know it isn't really my fault either, what happened to my husband. Even a medical doctor did not consider that Paul could have had a stroke. We're all much more perceptive and brilliant in hindsight.

Exactly, Kay. I've forgotten to eat at times, but I should know better. I know I need to eat, but cooking for just me seems like too much work. The cats eat better than I do half the time now. Ha! I would never do to them what I do to myself. And you're right. One of the best things about cooking is watching the other person enjoy it.

Thank you so much, Marty. It was such a surreal experience. Sometimes, I still think I'm going to wake up from this, but it never happens. I still hold anger toward the retina doctor, who I feel handled Paul's serious symptom in far too casual a fashion. He did not KNOW it was temporal arteritis and a symptom that serious should have immediate attention in an ER. But, nothing will bring Paul back, so I try to keep breathing and let it go. If anyone can learn from this, then I will feel my husband did not die in vain. Make someone go to the ER for YOU if they won't do it for themselves. Better to have them rub it in your face for the rest of your life that it turned out to be nothing instead of having to make cremation arrangements for them a week later. (Oh, and vision loss in an eye with no other symptoms? Go to the ER. Paul had a stroke in his sleep and never knew it, because the symptoms were not what they tell you on TV.)

That's so true. A little over one month before died, Paul had treatment done at a retina specialist (he had only one good eye due to a condition he had developed in the other one) to keep the vision in his good eye. The week he passed, he was due to return to the specialist for his follow up visit (his appointment was actually scheduled for the day he passed away). The Saturday before, he woke me up in the morning and I thought it was like an other morning. Then, he said the words that will haunt me forever. "I woke up without vision in my good eye." I sat straight up and looked at him, thinking I must have heard him wrong. I kept trying all morning for him to let me drive him to the ER. But, because he had the treatment done on that eye, he assumed we would sit in the ER forever, only to be told to call his eye specialist on Monday. He did not have any of the "typical" signs of stroke. No drooping face, no slurring words, no "worst headache of your life", no weakness in his extremities. None of that. Otherwise, I would have called fire/rescue. I still kept telling him repeatedly, "What if it isn't your eye? What if it's just a coincidence and there's something else going on?" But he was stubborn and now I wish I had forced him to go. We finally saw his retina guy on Monday. Tests were run and the retina doctor said it wasn't his eye. This medical doctor told us he was leaning toward a diagnosis of "temporal arteritis" and what does he do? He schedules an appointment for the following day with the Bascom Palmer Eye institute, ll the way down in Miami. I was livid, but kept my mouth shut for Paul's sake. Paul figured that a doctor must know what he's doing and I'm the kind of person who questions ALL authority. So, an entire extra day where he's gone without proper diagnosis or treatment after waiting an entire weekend to get help. Fortunately, a male friend of ours offered to drive us to Miami. Good thing, too. We spent all day with them doing more eye tests. They sent my husband to another building for an MRI. My husband was not the same man coming out of that test as he was going in. He came out and two men were having to carry him, one on each arm. Paul was sweating profusely across his forehead, he was shaky and appeared disoriented. Remember he could not see still. He was blind, too. I knew something was seriously wrong, but I didn't know exactly what. We were supposed to return to the eye place, but I was furious when I saw Paul's condition. I said we were going home and I was going to get him to a hospital. That long ride home was HELL. Paul could not stop being sick in the back seat and it was rush hour traffic. I finally got him home and he was still sick. I tried to help him walk up the sidewalk to our front door, but he couldn't make the step up into our home, said he was tired and collapsed right there at the doorstep. He was half inside the house and his legs were still out on the patio. As I was rushing to the phone, it began ringing. It was the eye doctor from Miami, telling me that he just saw my husband's MRI and he had had multiple strokes with one of them appearing to be 1-2 days old. I explained what was going on, shouted that I had to dial 911 and hung up. I immediately called 911, told the dispatcher what the doctor had just told me and the guys came out super fast. My neighbor saw what was happening and offered to drive me to the ER. I had to lock the house up and grab my stuff and then we took off. Paul was still responsive when we got there. He knew who I was and knew his birthdate and even knew our neighbor from the sound of her voice. But, suddenly, his eyes closed, he folded his arms in on each other and he began convulsing, gasping for air with his mouth opening and closing, just as you all had stated with your spouses. I was panicking, asking what was happening with him and they ushered us out and pulled the partition across. They had to intubate him so he could breathe. They told me they were rushing him into surgery because there were clots in a several arteries coming off the brain stem. Well, the surgery was not successful obviously and Paul never did regain consciousness after the seizure he had suffered. I can only take comfort in the fact that he did know I was there with him at the end and that hopefully, his pain or suffering was not prolonged. He had made me aware of the fact that he never wanted to be in a vegetative state or in a nursing home. He also would not have wanted to be blind. He was such a proud, independent man used to being the caretaker. I was informed a few days later that there was no discernible brain activity and he was only breathing because of the ventilator. So, they removed the life support and he was gone. But, there were some moments that I will never forget and that kept me up night after night. One in particular was the social worker who came in to my husband's room and wanted to speak with me, "even though I'm sure this is not the time". She proceeded to tell me how there were 27 people down in the ER and they were all waiting for beds. And then, there were patients no longer in need of care who were in those beds. I stood there and stared at her. At that point, the doctor had told me I didn't need to rush any decisions until I thought them through. I told her that and she handed me her business card, which I threw away. I have wished over and over again that I had forced him to go to the ER that Saturday morning, on the 10th of October, when he woke up without vision. These are the things that go through ALL of our minds. Shoulda, woulda, coulda... Praying that we could go back one more time just to have a do-over, but armed with the knowledge we have now. My friends told me the same thing. He could have had the stroke IN the hospital and there would have been no guarantees they would have been able to save him. But, I can't help but feel that if I HAD gotten him to the ER on Saturday, he at least would have had a better chance. The odds would have been more in his favor. Now, I live the rest of my life without him. I apologize for the length of this post.

Marg, my birthday is at the end of October. My husband's mother died Oct. 14, 1989, 13 years later, my husband's middle brother (48 yo) died October 13, 2002, my father died two weeks after him, October 29, 2002 and now, my husband passed away 13 years after his middle brother on October 15, 2015. October used to be my favorite month growing up and Halloween was my favorite holiday. Not so much now.

Anearia, I am so sorry, as I'm sure everyone else is, that you have now become a part of this group. As they told me, when I first posted, this is a club no one truly wants to be a member of. I'm so sorry for you loss. I lost my husband almost five months ago now. He always cooked for me and it fills me with such overwhelming sadness to think that I will never again taste all of my favorite meals that he made with so much love. I'm not sure how long it has been since your beloved husband passed away, but your attitude towards the food may change with time. My wonderful husband, Paul, had made soup, pasta sauce and chili a while back and had containers of them in our freezer to take out for meals or lunch or whatever. I finally worked my way down to one container of each item. Then, I had sort of a "freak out". Those three containers would be the last of Paul's cooking in existence. If I ate them, that would be it and I would never again taste his cooking. They sat there for quite a while, but then, I began looking at it from a different perspective. I thought to myself that if I kept these items in the freezer, never eating them, and something happened to me down the road, they would probably just be thrown away. All the love and work my husband put into making these meals for us to enjoy would have been for NOTHING. Wasted. And I STILL would never have tasted his meals ever again, because I didn't eat what was in the containers! So, I took out the soup, which I had been craving, thawed it out and ate it that night for dinner. It tasted so delicious and I savored every single spoonful. And then, I realized that even in death my husband was STILL taking care of me, making sure I had something nutritious to eat. When I'm ready, I will also take out the last of the sauce and the chili and enjoy them, too. Because that is what Paul intended. For them to be appreciated and enjoyed. And I also look out and see the beauty around me and wish so much that he was here to share it with me. I look out at the garden we were planning on planting just one week before he suddenly and unexpectedly passed away last October and it sits there now, empty, with weeds growing back where the new plants should have been. At some point down the road, I may plant something there myself, in his honor, but I just don't have the energy or the enthusiasm yet for a project of that size. I hope you find the same comfort and camaraderie that I have found in this forum. In cases of such deep grief, I don't believe it's "misery loves company" as much as the miserable loving the understanding and acceptance that they are unable to find anywhere else in their lives. Take care.