Tag: help

Lots going on

Sometimes you have one of those days that everything seems to happen at once. Today is one of those days. Sometimes on those days, certain aspects just “come together” for you. It was one of those days, too!

I’m still wrapping up some of the financial issues that come about when your spouse passes away. That activity sometimes requires notary service. Ordinarily, you just pop into your bank or credit union,. and request it – not so in the age of COVID: you have to make an appointment to get it done. So, I had that.

For better than a month, I’ve been planning to send some Kowalski natural casing hot dogs east to my sister – apparently, they can’t get them there. The document I needed to notarize also needed to be next-day shipped via UPS, prepaid.

I had vetibular therapy today, and it is right next to the grocery store where I have been unsuccessful for the past several weeks in getting some dry ice to pack the hot dogs in. They had it today.

All of that, plus my normal work schedule, literally consumed the day from early morning until 3:30 pm.

My trusty iPhone 8 plus has ballistically met the floor too many times and is beginning to fail in ways beyond what I can tolerate, so I bit the bullet Monday and bought a replacement for it. THAT arrived today, so a major swath of the day was consumed in prepping for its use. iPhones are a bit notorious for giving issues transferring your photos to a pc. Mine decided to follow this route. More time consumed parsing the photo and video files to determine which one was causing the file error every time I tried to copy them over.

I bought a roast Saturday with the intent of making the kids a batch of jerky. It’s Wednesday, so that had to be done.

Finally, if you haven’t noticed in any of my writings, I’m a wee bit on the religious side. Tonight started an online bible study on the gospels of Mark – my first, true bible study since the 80s when I had temporarily walked away from the Catholic church.

That’s a lot of activity packed into one day.

Add to this that the mother of my friend is having complications after surgery, and my own mother was taken to St. Joe’s with what appears to be a repeat of an infection that devastated her in September…

When it rains it definitely pours.

All of this gave me little time to think about Kim, though I managed to do so, anyway. Certain happy, and certain melancholy remembrances surfaced. But, I have to say that I think happy recollections outnumbered the sad today. I think that’s a first since she passed.

Do I think I’m not going to have empty, lonely, sad, sad, sad days in the future? Certainly not. Do I think I’m making progress in my growth and healing? Most definitely. And to what do I credit this? I think writing of my experiences helps me – even some of the mundane stuff, like how busy today was. Moreso, I think my involvement in the Widowers Support Network contributes as well. It’s a place that I can talk about the things that are bothering me and get the perspective of a couple thousand other widowers in various stages of grief – but it’s also a place where I can give others my perspective; where I can try to console others – and I think it’s that last bit that helps me more than any other.

I’m no fan of facebook, but if you are a widower, I highly recommend this group. Search for Widowers Support Network – Members Only. It is primarily for widowers, but they also invite men who are the caregivers of their terminally-ill spouse. Frankly, I don’t think I would have found the time to interact with them when I was Kim’s caregiver; however, I sure could have used their support at the time. Check them out.

Empathy

Feeling how I’ve felt since Kim’s diagnosis: how did she feel? This is a thought that nags at me. Knowing the ultimate outcome, how did she keep her spirits up as she appeared to do? I know there were a lot of “last times” she rushed for – cream of celery soup (there’s an interesting story there), her deceased mom’s macaroni and cheese with tomatoes, lots of walks with me – something we loved to do, but something that, prior, things always seemed to interfere with. Walks with Jillian through the nature trails. Visiting her horses. Finishing the quilts she had planned for the kids’ Christmas presents. And finishing her own lap quilt for those winter chemo appointments that never came to be. So many things to do.

During our remaining time, I would generally be up and about between 6 and 6:30 to prepare for my work-at-home day. She would usually not be up before 8:00. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later – it depended on when she went to bed, and that depended a lot on her medications and chemo cycles.

Our means of communication when she woke up and needed help was text messaging. Usually things along the lines of helping her dress after a shower, helping put her shoes and socks on – stuff like that, because bending down wasn’t easy with the ascites, and putting socks and shoes on wasn’t easy with the swelling in her legs. Sometimes there were other issues I’d have to help her with, but the majority was pretty mundane. Through all of that time, I can only remember a handful of days where she said she felt depressed, or she wanted to cry. Me? My emotions were raw, and I would break down often, especially when discussing hospice, funerals, gravestones, and the like. (We prayed and prayed for that miracle, but we prepared for the event it was not received. I guess that’s how it’s done.)

Did Kim internalize her grief? I hate the thought of that; of her torturing herself over it in silence. Once you go through a bout of clinical depression, you build incredible empathy towards those doing similar. Kim had depression issues for much of our marriage, intensified, if not brought on by, my globe-trotting career.

Depression makes you feel trapped and hopeless. Knowing someone you love is depressed, and not knowing how to help pull them out of it leaves you feeling helpless and useless.

Oh – that cream of celery soup. That was about a week after Kim’s diagnosis, during all of the COVID grocery store frenzy. Kim wanted cream of celery soup. Ever since I’ve known her, one of her favorite comfort foods was cream of celery soup with wide egg noodles.

So, I went out to get her some. Store after wiped out store and nobody had it. I stopped, finally, at the local Busch’s Market. No soup. I was beaten. I walked into another aisle, praying “God, please! Kim wants this. Please let’s not disappoint her!” On an impulse, I went just one more time down the soup aisle, and, lo and behold: the rack now had two full rows of soup. I picked a can up, and sure enough: Campbells’ cream of celery! I grabbed all of them, and a couple of bags of wide egg noodles, and checked out…

Do you believe there’s a God in heaven that hears our prayers? I do. I don’t claim to know His mind – for instance: why would He help me find Kim’s soup, but not answer our prayers for a cure? – but I know He’s there, and He’s listening. He shows up in little ways sometimes.