Anticipatory Grief part II

 I wrote a blog about Anticipatory Grief on March 2, last year. I'd never really heard about it until there was a remote class via the VA Caregiver Social Workers last year.

It wasn't exactly a 'happy' post, more of a reflection of what I thought I knew and understood about the term Anticipatory Grief. I'm glad I did the class. I also thought I'd had it all figured out. 

Insert a big laugh right here. I like to think I can handle all things tossed at me. 

Well, things have changed radically. I actually have adapted I think fairly well. I knew I could possibly enter a phase where I had to do most everything for my husband. The damage to his memory and thinking skills are now more evident from his resp. failure. 

Shay, who is a young single mom and our respite gal said she and Rich had good conversations and that he seems to be okay with what is happening to him. He seems settled and at peace with it.

She then asked me how did I feel?

I said I was good with it. After all, Rich and I set up our Estate plans and Living Wills in 2012 and we had these discussions about aging and illnesses before he had cancer in 2015. The doctors will argue that his cancer treatment gave him at least 10 more years of life.

What didn't happen is good of quality of life. Doctors would point out that he was still 'here' and that he was able to visit with family. The cascade of issues that followed in the next two years took everything he lived for away from him.

Living day to day became a struggle combined with Major Depressive Disorder. His PCP told him not to feel sorry for himself as there were others worse off than he was.

[Yes, she said that and I immediately asked to be transferred out of her care.]

That is when we transferred to Palliative Care. His issues were dealt with and no shaming for being depressed or feeling hopeless. No intrusive exams. Pain management and mental health support were vital to him.

We stayed with the Palliative Care Team for 6 years.  

So back to the question. How was I dealing with the fact that we were now in Hospice Care. My mantra was 'I'm good with it.'

I understand the implications. I understand that my soul mate is dying. I also wonder what happens after. 

Wait.
I lose half of me in a way. We've been partners for 30 years. We've been part of each others lives for that long. For the past 10 I've been his 'Care Giver'. For the past 30 my life has been helping him negotiate his daily life which included many times in and out Mental Health Admissions. 

I was once asked why I'd hang around someone like him. My reply was pretty simple. He is an honest man, he loves intensely, he has a true heart, and he doesn't play games with people's emotions. And. He is my partner.

So.

While driving to town to get some groceries two days ago, a song came on the radio.  I don't recall what the song was. But I did have to find a spot to pull over. I parked on a side road that overlooked a trout stream.

It hit me.
Yes, I am prepared. Maybe. I am prepared for what happens and the process of his dying. 

Maybe I am not prepared for the 'afterwards'. 

What Is Anticipatory Grief?

 Anticipatory Grief is something that can begin before the person you know has died. 

I realize now that the last nine years of my life I've assumed the role of a Caregiver. The first diagnosis of Stage IV throat cancer changed our lives. [Whoever has had cancer in a loved one or family member will know that the C word changes things forever] 

The event started a cascade of other health events that compounded on Rich's COPD. 

Now we live day to day with a routine of me doing the simple things for my husband that he cannot do. My routine has changed and his care is at the forefront of each of my days. 

At first I was frustrated and a bit angry because I never thought that I'd have to learn to do all the 'man' stuff that was always done by him. Over the years, I've taken on all of the duties around our small farm and it can be very taxing. 

Finally I've come to the realization nine years later, that I've gone nowhere and done nothing but give give and give more. Yes, it is common to feel that way as a Giver. It is also common for a Giver to feel guilty at those very same thoughts.

There are days I look outside and see myself on a camping trip I've longed for, or perhaps a Waterfalling trip...exploring the parks that my state has to offer. Wandering along wooded paths and exploring without a time clock. Reality bites and I am doing my next Giver thing. 

I'm luckier than some Givers. I can still get out for daily walks and sometimes fit in a nice hike at a park close by. 

But I daily grieve for the person I used to be married to. The energetic and sometimes pain in the butt guy. We did a lot of weekend traveling together to see other friends. We camped with our mules and rode parks. 

He fixed tires, maintained the mowers, tractors, skid steer, and did all the farm jobs. He was a force to be reckoned with.

Givers learn things. I learned to drive the skid steer, arrange for maintenance on them, fix fences and reroute them when the deer take them down or trees fall on them. I used to really go after it with gusto. But I'm growing tired of all of my extra duties.

The point is. Daily some small part of me grieves for the person I used to be married to. The one that gave out hugs all of the time. The one who was independent and vibrant. Not the person who sits quietly and stares out the window. I ask him, "What are you thinking?"  He blinks and finally looks at me and replies, "Don't know. Nothing."

I like to have a plan. I'm always thinking about the 'what if' scenario. Apparently, that is not the healthiest thing to do. However, that is the way my brain functions. 

IF this happens, what is my next step? 

Each day, I see a little less of the person I married. He moves slowly away as if he is fading. He is fading. 

Each day I grieve a bit more for the person I am losing. I know I am putting forth my best efforts but I can't change what is happening inside his body and brain. Some days I am angry that this happened and think IT is NOT fair! And then there is the guilt for thinking that terrible thought.

There is no cure for his diseases but a release of pain and suffering when the time does come.

And then I will grieve again. Not just for him, but for me who after years is suddenly out of a job. 

What will I do?

Will I feel whole or half?