No one likes this part...

Well, we were are still hanging on together.

This morning I realized that I didn't have a clue what I should do after the funeral home picks him up when he is gone.

We'd talked about what he wanted, we discussed things, but he basically said he didn't care for a big Gig.

Being the Stepmother, I want to get things right. No, it was not planned ahead, he didn't want that. Oddly enough, I'm the planner of most all things. This was in the back of my mind saying "Later, I'll deal with that Later." 

I decided Later Better Be Now.

First things first. I opened up the funeral home's website and started researching information.

The funeral home had very informative website.

I was stumped at the obituary. I mean, what should I even think of writing up?

His could be short and sweet truthfully. His parents are gone, his sister in Utah is alive, and he has a daughter and many grands. Simple right? Meh. 

If someone knows him, they will know all the other important stuff.

Rich's daughter had texted me yesterday evening to come out for the day. I decided to get her in on the 'action' so to speak. 

Maybe I surprised her a bit. We went over some details of what an Obit was and how to write it. Being ME, I decided to follow a suggested outline but not go into the depths that I've seen so many times.

I suggested something quite funny and she laughed a very wonderful and true laugh. I've decided to include that 'funny' in his obit.

I told her what I'd decided as far as burial vs. cremation. I also discussed having a memorial type thing at the funeral home or something like a celebration of life but very informal. I felt like I needed to give those who knew Rich a chance to gather and exchange their favorite stories about him in a comfortable setting.

I wanted her to be involved, after all, she is his daughter. So I gave her a thumb drive with photos I've collected from our time together. I asked her sort through and decided what we could put together for the funeral home. They offer a large screen that would display photos in a video format.

She asked about flowers as her dad was not a flower guy. I laughed and said he'd love two bouquets that the mules could eat. I got a quizzical look. I reminded her that the bouquet at our wedding was just that. Wildflowers with oat, barley, and straw. Fit for an equine dining experience. She laughed, she remembered it because one of the mules tried to eat the bouquet out of her hands.

I asked her if she would speak about her father and she quickly said no. It could be uncomfortable, I knew, so I didn't press.

I said I'd prepared something.

She asked about a Pastor to speak for him. 

"Your dad does not want that. He didn't want religion involved at all. No prayers, no mention of god." She looked at me quizzically.

"Your father unequivocally felt that if there was a God, he would not have let him suffer through the things he had to do in Vietnam. Many things he was ordered to do went against his moral judgement and soul."

We talked about the graveside thing. I'm not sure what it is really called. I said I'd talk to the funeral dudes [I know not the right wording?] 
I think I'll ask about playing Taps at the gravesite.

He did serve with honor even if it tore him up. 

The only thing wrong with those hospital beds is that I can't slide in next to him and hold him in my arms. If I had designed beds like this for home use. I'd make that possible.

His daughter was hesitant when she saw her father who is now unresponsive. He will grunt a bit when given a hug. That is a response.

I showed her how to lay her chest on her Dad's and softly hug him. I left her to it. 

I often go in and bend over the bed and lay my head on his chest to listen to his heart and his breathing. As a couple we always slept close to each other wrapped in each others arms. 

The nurse came to visit today and we stood with Rich for a while. He is not in pain and seems so at peace right now. He looked at me and said, "I honestly did not think I'd be making this visit today."

I nodded to him and said, "I thought so too overnight. He keeps making small rallies after dips."

He picked up Rich's hand and held it before he left. "I'll see you brother, take care."

[Nurse Jason is ex military also]

Thankfully I had Rich's daughter to myself during the day and we settled on some things that needed to be done and we didn't have to talk under the watchful eyes of her husband.

She left after a few hours and Steve came by to check on Rich. Steve said he didn't sleep much last night as he was so worried about Rich. 

Charlie kept us all grounded with his tail wagging and lap sitting.

One more day.

Depression 101

We met with Dr. Lindsey, she is young bright and a psychologist. She is doing her stint at the VA Hospital.

She asks Rich if he knows why he is there? He squints his eyes and seems to think. I've noticed over the years that the eye squinting comes just before his answer which is:

"I want to feel better. I just want to feel better. I feel like I am dying bit by bit."

This has become his new mantra of sorts. Anyone asks him how he is or how he is feeling, that is his answer. As I watch the doctor glance at him and scribble notes, I realize that the words are slightly different but the answers have been consistently the same for all of the years I've known Rich.

Lindsey asks him if he knows what causes him to feel this way.

"I don't know. I just want to feel better. I am tired of feeling like this."

She looks at him and me and then prompts him by asking if he read the letter from the neuro-psychologists. He shrugs. Their letter with multiple diagnosis of his medical issues weren't of interest to him. I let her know that but tell her that I did in fact read it to him.

Rich shrugs.

"Rich do you know that you have also been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder?"

Another alphabet diagnosis I think. In medical shorthand MDD. A light goes on somewhere in the back of my mind. And for some reason I am not surprised at this diagnosis. It makes sense, I felt his meds were starting to fail him, but as always his re-occurrences of depression always have a way of sneaking up on us.
So it was official. MDD. This explained quite a bit.

Lindsey continues, "So Rich I am here to help you figure out how to feel better and break this depression cycle."

He looks at her and squints again. "I have no idea how you think you can do that."

She doesn't get discouraged. Good for her, I think. Lindsey begins to explain the methods of getting a person out of major depression. She asks questions and he haltingly answers.

It almost seems as if he doesn't want to get better. But then I am not surprised as this is the depression stacked on top of COPD, and PTSD along with stroke and the some level of dementia or cognitive dysfunction. I wonder how in the hell are the doctors and I are going to pull him up and out of this.

Lindsey draws a map for Rich to explain what she is talking about.

"You want to feel better," she says, "this has to do with your thoughts and feelings, we need to help them. One of the ways is to get out and do something. Get away from the bed and be more active."

He grimaces. "I can't. I hit that wall and if I don't lay down, I'll tip over."

She thinks a moment and then asks, "Are you a fall risk?"

"No, I am fine. I just get so tired." I can see by his expression that he doesn't believe her.

Lindsey draws out something on paper and shows it to him.

[I took the liberty of going into Photoshop and making the following graphic to mimic her hand drawing. I chose bright colors because I always want to feel hopeful]

"Your behavior effects your thoughts. If you start here and get moving, doing something different that you used to enjoy then your feelings will improve and your thoughts will improve."

He stares at the paper and I know he doesn't see it.

The discussion goes on for a while. I suggest fishing. Rich says he 'can't'. What if he gets short of breath? I reply we'll have 02 along. What if he gets tired? We have seats in the Subaru that recline. What if he can't ... make it to the car? We bring fold up chairs.

Lindsey uses encouragement and Rich is given an assignment to go fishing. [Now looking at my calendar and the weather, I see no time for fishing.]

Then Lindsey does something surprising.
She turns to me and asks, "How are you doing?"

"Honestly? Some days I have no idea. I get frustrated, short tempered, ..."

"What sort of support do you have?"

"I have a neighbor who will listen. There is a group that meets in Viroqua once a month but generally I have appointments that day and it is during the time I need to be doing chores."

"Would you consider counseling?"

"Can't afford it now that I quit work to take care of Rich." I state.

Lindsey reads her notes and then says that the VA will provide those veteran spouses with care when the veteran is 100%. I am surprised, I knew about that but never had anyone at the VA approach it.
Lindsey says she will look into it. I believe she will.

Our ride back from the VA is long and I am tired after 3 appointments. Rich uses his 02 while he sleeps in the passenger seat. My mind mulls over the depression issues and how can I work to get him to 'move'.

When we get home I tell him that he will feed the two donkeys every day like he used to.

He fires back at me: What if I can't make it? What if I can't walk there and back?

Me: Then I will sit with you in the dirt until you can make it.

Him: What if I get out of breath?

Me: I'll bring you oxygen.

Him: Oh like this is going to cure me huh?

Me: Nope. But if you keep laying in bed all day long and never moving, you will make yourself worse, your heart will fail, your lungs will fail, and your mind will fail. Move it or lose it. You tell your mom to move, you need to take your own advice.

Him: I'm going to bed.

Yesterday though, I stood my ground and he did walk to the shed and get flakes of hay to feed Thor and Bob. It took an extra hour or so of my day. But it got done.

Depression is an ugly thing.

Cancer friendships

I don't know how to explain it, but by the powers that be, we met another couple who has been touched and devastated by cancer.

I met her on a social media site and after much back and forth messaging, we set up a tentative meet. We had decided that we were not axe murderers nor were we some sort of weird internet psychos.  Well we felt we weren't.

We set up a meeting in a public place and had a picnic.
Her husband N, had had stomach cancer the year before and had just finished treatment in January 2015.  It was now October.

Rich and I were getting ready for the 3 month follow up and PET scan. The guys talked about old cars and dogs.

Their lab Jeg was a great ice breaker.  Dogs always are and who can resist such a handsome face as this.

We spent a couple of hours yacking and promised to get together again.
S, N's wife and I keep in touch nearly daily.  We have each other's home phone numbers, work numbers, and cell numbers with the understanding that we can call on each other at any time of day or night.

People and caregivers who have gone through cancer don't have to pussy foot about what to say to each other.
We talk about the treatments, the chemo brain, the horrors of what they go through and... what the care giver goes through.
How we stumble from one step to another our lives tangled up in doctors, labs, radiology, blood tests, and weight loss or gain.

There is no stumbling around for the 'right' thing to say to each other.  A common bond is created.

At the end of our first meet the guys shook hands and gave each other half hugs.

S and I held on to each other like lost lovers, I think we were happy to each find each other in the living flesh.

We've tried to schedule a get together for dinner or something every few weeks.
N has been feeling unwell and today I received the text.

Tonight we'll go see him in the hospital.  We are all entering new territory here.
There are a lot of what ifs...or what now?

Our friendship has grown quite close and quite fast.

Between cancer friends, there is only this.  Enjoy each moment with each other and don't look to hard at the future.
Treat each parting as a goodbye.

Hold on tight.  Cancer is a wild ride.