MikeC

Joe, you pretty much nailed it. I realized today that when I say "I'm doing OK" I am borrowing a page from my Janet's book. She always responded positively whenever anyone asked how she was doing. For that reason several people were shocked when she died--they believed her! My answer varies depending on who asks. If it is somebody I know casually or not too well, I'll temper my answer somewhat, like "Oh, you know, I'm trying to get by." or something similar. If it is somebody I know well who I think really gives a damn, I give them the honest, depressing answer. At this point I don't think I'll ever be able to honestly answer "I'm doing OK."

I just received Final Gifts from Amazon.com and read about half of it today. It was recommended by one of my wife Janet's Hospice nurses shortly before she died. If you are not familiar with this book, it is about "Nearing Death Awareness" and includes many short case studies of patients' experiences as death approaches. One chapter deals with dying persons who see people/beings/things not visible to others in the room. This topic fascinates me because as I was with Janet around the clock during her final weeks, I had several opportunities to observe this very phenomenon. Here are some of the things I remember. The first unusual event occurred one morning about 7 weeks before her death. She was asleep and I went in to our bedroom to check on her. My footsteps awakened her and I asked, "How are you this morning, sweetie?" She looked at me, smiled, and said, "You humans are funny." I asked her what she meant by that, but she just smiled and had nothing else to say about it. I wondered to myself at the time if she might have been "crossing over." The other things happened in the last week or so of her life. One afternoon I was sitting on the bed talking with her when suddenly her eyes grew wide and she stared past me. "What is it?" I asked. She replied, "Hannibal Lechter." I asked "What about Hannibal Lechter?" and she said "He's eating fava beans." I have no idea what was going on there. There were many times when she stared wide-eyed at someone/something and I would ask what she was seeing, but she would never say. She never looked frightened, but rather full of wonder. A couple of days before she died Janet suddenly looked surprised and asked "When did they get here?" She and I were the only people in the room. She wouldn't who "they" were, but I suspect she may have been seeing angels. Janet believed that angels are in the world around us and protect us. She believed that she and a friend were saved from death by angels during a very bad car wreck years ago. She saw/felt the presence of two figures in the back seat of the car that shielded her and her passenger from harm. So, did any of you have similar experiences when your spouses neared death? I'd love to hear your stories and insights. Thanks, Mike

Mary Linda, if I could I would hug you-I could really use one myself after feeling sad most of the day. In my brief time in this new role I've heard a number of unintentional but hurtful comments, as well. It is hard to shake them off given the delicate emotional state we are in. I'm new at this and I don't know what to say to help you feel better, but I would like you to know that your reply to my post last night helped me feel better. I hope this has a similar positive effect for you. Mike

Thank you all so much for your thoughtful and encouraging comments. As Karen noted, we did have a wonderful love. I know Janet loved me as deeply as I still love her, and it is devastating to realize that now my love can no longer be reciprocated. As far as strength and courage go, Janet had enough for both of us. She was my rock throughout, and now that she's gone I'm struggling to hang on. Joe, the similarities between your Kathy and my Janet are striking, and I agree that we are fortunate guys. Even with this crushing loss, I consider myself to be the luckiest guy in the world to have had Janet in my life for the time that I did. Mary Linda, people do tell me they miss Janet's smile. I like to think I had something to do with it. She liked my sense of humor and enjoyed listening to my guitar playing. But Janet drew so much joy from small things--a colorful leaf, a feather, the smell of lilacs and lavender--she was content to be just about anywhere doing just about anything. Again, thank you all. I am happy I found this site with so many caring people. Mike

My dear wife and best friend Janet recently died after fighting ovarian cancer for 3 years. It was late stage 3/stage 4 when she was diagnosed. Her initial response to the treatment was excellent and she was pronounced "cancer free", but 8 months later it came raging back. She was under Hospice care from March until her death on June 25. I was able to be with her around the clock for the last 6 weeks of her life. Hospice was able to keep her pain-free during her last weeks, but she constantly battled nausea. She died peacefully in our home as I held her hand and gently stroked her head. Our two sons were home with us as well. At Janet's memorial service a friend of ours sang "Smile", a song that exemplifies the way she approached her life and impending death. Even in her final days she would flash her beautiful smile whenever anyone came to visit her. She never complained about her own situation, but instead turned the conversation to how the other person was doing. Janet was incredibly sweet and compassionate, always putting others needs ahead of her own. In fact, she ignored her own symptoms and put off going to the doctor while she cared for her mother, who passed away a couple of months before Janet was diagnosed. We knew from the beginning of her illness that Janet's chances were not good, and after the cancer recurred that her outlook for survival was dismal. Still, we lived our remaining time as normally as possible. She was relatively "healthy" for someone so ill and felt pretty good most of the time, except during the last 5 months or so. Janet and I were married very nearly 29 years--she died 4 days before our anniversary. That day was the loneliest day of my life, but it seems like I can say that about almost every day now. I'm hoping that writing and talking about my loss and my feelings with other similarly unfortunate souls will help me work my way out of this dark place I find myself in. Thanks for listening... Mike

Walt, I am pretty new to this (one month today), and I am asking myself almost all of those questions. You are not alone. Mike