Return To Life?

[HAP]

Dear friends,

I have not been sick in the more than three years since Jane began the final descent into the arms of NET cancer—until this week. I didn’t feel right last Sunday and by Monday night a sore throat had announced something more nasty than a bit of stray pollen or dust had gotten through my immune system. But when the sore throat was gone Tuesday morning I thought my body had fought it off as it had the H1N1 flu that leveled Jane in 2009 and nearly killed her then.

Wednesday morning I awoke with a hacking cough and a runny nose that screamed, “Gotcha.” I ran a mild fever Wednesday and Thursday that left me feeling weak and unfocussed but I reminded myself this was a normal cold—and that Jane had gone through far worse and I needed to be patient. “If she could spend 28 days chained to a hospital bed,” I reasoned, “I have no right to complain.”

By this morning, I had had enough. The fever is gone but my nose is still chasing around the room and periodically I want to scream. I am a lousy patient, I’ve decided, and it is a good thing I live alone. Except for Jane’s voice in my head.

That voice was chiding me this morning—and it made me angry. Not at her, of course, but at myself—until I figured out what was really bothering me. Since then, while the frustration remains, the anger has drained away. That is often what happens—what happened even before Jane got sick.

The thing people don’t understand about the loss of a spouse to cancer—or to anything else—is that the death kills you both. The moment Jane’s body died, I died, too. The person I was no longer existed because so much of who I was depended on her existence—just as so much of the person she was depended on my existence. There is huge security in knowing someone always has your back—that if you fall, they will catch you. We cloak it all in metaphor and we talk about the importance of individual growth—but the truth is we become one more and more through every hour of a good marriage.

We become attuned to each other not only in spirit but on the physical level as well. Only now have I begun to understand that the problem with my sleep comes not always from my dreams but from the absence of her heartbeat and her breathing—that the disquiet I sometimes feel during the day comes from the same source. Twenty-seven months after her death I still subconsciously seek the physical cues of her presence—like an amputee seeking the presence of a phantom limb.

As widows and widowers we sometimes talk about the “new normal”--about the lives we lead now and how they are so much different than the lives we led before the illness or before the death. We do not know how to discuss, even with each other much of the time, the depth of our loss—the fact that we are as dead—at least for a time—as our spouse’s body. Jane and I had so deeply intertwined our lives that part of me is simply waiting to die—as though I have no right to exist now that she is gone.

Every couple invents its own internal mythology over time. And that mythology looks ahead as well as back. Jane and I had a shared post-retirement vision: the writing and travelling we would do; the gardening and house projects we would undertake; and the slow decline of our mental and physical powers that would end in our deaths at most a year or so apart. Whoever was left behind would have no long wait before he or she returned home as well.

Jane died at 56. In a few weeks I will be 61. I want to go home. But the work we began here is not done. Nor is the work I promised her I would do if she died. And the last three days I have looked at the enormity of those promises against the slender resources a half-living man can bring to bear. It is not enough.

I do not want to be Lazarus. I pity him. I pity his family. What is it to have to die twice? What is it to have to mourn a spouse’s passing twice? To mourn a father’s and a brother’s?

But a half-living man can work neither among the living nor the dead. So I must choose to find my way back from the Land of the Dead, however much I hate the thought of returning to life, however much less effort it would take to remain waiting for death.

The Tao has a verse for this:

Three in ten are followers of life;

Three in ten are followers of death;

Three in ten are passing through life to death.

One in ten lives:

In him, the rhinoceros can find no place to put his horn,

The tiger, no place to put his claws.

Tomorrow marks 27 months since Jane’s death. Tonight at 6:05 will mark 27 months since the last time her body was awake enough to communicate at all. She made me promise the Saturday before her surgery I would live no matter what happened. It is time I began to honor the true spirit of that promise.

Peace,

Harry

[mfh]

"There is huge security in knowing someone always has your back—that if you fall, they will catch you.... the truth is we become one more and more through every hour of a good marriage. We become attuned to each other not only in spirit but on the physical level as well. Only now have I begun to understand that the problem with my sleep comes not always from my dreams but from the absence of her heartbeat and her breathing—that the disquiet I sometimes feel during the day comes from the same source. Twenty-nine months after her death I still subconsciously seek the physical cues of her presence—like an amputee seeking the presence of a phantom limb."

Oh, Harry, I do know. I still awaken in the night thinking Bill is sleeping beside me...only to find, of course, that he is not. When I was sick for 6 weeks recently, really sick for 2 of those 6, I got to experience at a painfully deep level just what it means to be alone and to be sick alone. It is not the first experience of that but somehow this one got to me. In 18 days, on March 27 at 10:46am, it will be exactly 3 years since Bill died. It was about now that he and I had our last conversation. It feels like forever since I last saw him and I know you and others here feel the same way. What many people do not understand is that, as you said in different words...we are one soul in two bodies...or live deeply intertwined lives...however we say it...part of each of us is gone and learning how to live and walk and breathe and want to go on without them is a huge undertaking...and one we really do not want to have to deal with but are left with no choice. Our purpose here is not accomplished...whatever it is.

The tiger can not stop you from living and in time...I believe...we will live..differently for sure...but healing takes time...go patiently into the future.

Peace

Mary

[HAP]

Dear Mary,

Some day I will get my mind back together well enough to count: 27 months tomorrow, not 29. Don't know where 29 came from three times, but there you are.

Otherwise, we both know what we are saying. Each chooses a different metaphor to describe the same essence.

Peace,

Harry

[mfh]

Harry, I do understand how affected our minds can get as we journey on and you are sick and have had a fever. What is the date of the third anniversary. Peace, Mary

[HAP]

Dear Mary,

December 10, 2013.

Peace,

Harry

[feralfae]

Dear Harry,

Each word you wrote resonated with me. Thank you.

I hear you feel the pull of your spirit to step back into life, hope, expectations, and dreams.

It will happen exactly on time, and I applaud you for the recognition of these stirrings to break into buds and their promise again. Spring is such a good time to feel the renewal of life. You are in tune with the seasons. You are in tune with your heart.

Go gently, and as Mary reminds, us, patiently.

Blessings,

*<twinkles>*

fae

[mfh]

Thanks, Harry, it is on my phone. I shall not forget. I hope you feel better. I know you have an event tomorrow and hope it goes well.

Peace

Mary

[Wifflesnook]

Dear Harry and all

I write this feeling quite ill, though its only a bad cold. But it's a bad cold with no Pete to bring me drinks, walk the dog for me and just make a fuss of me like he always did. He never let me down. I can resonate totally with all your words about having to go on as half a person (sometimes it feels like less than that). Together Pete And I made up a pretty good person but the soul that we became was so dependent upon the other and now I don't feel I have a true identity. But like you I have to live on. When we are ill our defences are weak and this is even harder than when we are well. I will try to reconnect with the world as I know Pete would want but I know from Mary's wise words (and others) that we can't make ourselves heal. We can try not to succumb to self pity (try and fail often if I am anything to go by). One things which bonds us together on this site is the wonderful relationships we shared with our loved ones. This is why we are still here. You, Harry, write about your Jane in a way that bonds me to you because I can tell that the relationship you had was of the same quality as I shared with Pete. And how can we not suffer that deep deep loss.

I'm nt even going to try to make much of an effort today. I feel dreadful so I'm going to look after myself as Pete would want me to. I do hope you feel better soon, Harry.

Jan

[mfh]

Jan, I hope you feel better soon and can stay home for a few weeks to get your health back. Mary

[MartyT]

Dear ones, for what it's worth, I too have been a victim of whatever "crud" is making the rounds this season ~ and I'm up to date on flu and pneumonia vaccinations. It was bad enough that I took myself to a doctor (something I hate to do and resist with every fiber of my being, unless it's clear that whatever it is won't go away on its own), who said it was a combination of a virus and allergies (of the hay fever variety). When you're sick, it's so hard to remember what it feels like to be well. But after feeling quite awful for several weeks, I am feeling so much better now. Please take good care of yourselves, follow the sage advice you've been given by all our fellow members, and take heart in knowing that this, too, will pass. ♥

[feralfae]

Good Heavens!

Everyone, please take the best possible care of your health and pamper, comfort, nurse, indulge, warm, heal, and love yourselves through this time. For Harry, Jan, and Marty, all best wishes for a speedy, full recovery. This is the time of year when our immune systems can be weak, coming out of winter, and susceptible to more than usual.

Please rest and restore, and be well soon. I hope you are all feeling better already.

*<twinkles>*

fae

[mfh]

Marty, so glad to hear you are feeling better. It sounds like you are still in the "not well yet" group, however. It seems we share the same resistance: i.e seeing doctors. Medicare and Medigap are probably very happy with me....I cost them very little.......so far. I go kicking and screaming.

I do believe it would be extremely appropriate and more than fair that everyone here who "nudged" me (to put it VERY mildly) when I was sick...should seriously consider doing the same to Marty (aka Truvy), Harry, Jan, Anne, Shannon, Kay, Anne and all others who are dealing with colds, flu, allergies, or other physical illnesses including fatigue (which means everyone). Nudging includes MANY reminders to REST, to drink water, to sleep, to put work aside, to nurture oneself, to drink tea especially ginger tea, to eat soup and avoid all the other things that inhibit healing and that we already know about. I must admit, in light of all this, that your nudging felt good and I was grateful. .

Mary-the other one

[enna]

Yes Mary, but we are not forgetting how easy it is for YOU to forget your own advice. I hope we cannot catch bugs from the Internet or most of us will be crawling under the covers and trying to catch up on wellness. Please be well everyone. Anne

[mfh]

Anne, I am on my way out the door to hear an author at our local bookstore. BUT I need to say to you, Anne, that I am so so happy that your visit with Jackie went so well, was warm and supportive for both of you and that soon uou will see her in Illinois. I know you miss her already. As for how easy it is for me to forget my own advice, I do plea 'guilty' as charged but only sometimes NOW.

Let us know when you see the MD again and how you are doing.

Ugly, gray, rainy, cold, damp, (soon to be lots of snow) day here. Meeting a friend at the book signing...reading. It will break up the day and I loved the book. atoms and Eden (science vs religion).

I am learning that I make a ton of typos when I use my iPad so I will try to do better. I hate typos/spelling errors ESP when I make them.

On my way,

Mary

[kayc]

I'm sorry so many are sick. I've spent the last several days trying to sleep off one of the worst viruses I've ever been hit with. I hadn't been sick in years and now all of a sudden I'm hit with two knock-downs in a row? What's upsetting is that I was exposed to both of them by people who knew they were sick and didn't tell me. Wanted to go back to work today but no can do, will sleep today and try for tomorrow.

Jan, I hear you...last night I was thinking how George and I would lay side by side, convalescing on the reclining love seat and whichever one was in the better shape would bring drinks, tylenol, kleenex, etc. to the other. I miss having him here when I'm sick. Sometimes I wonder, "George, where ARE you? Can you hear me?"