Why Give A Crap What I Say? It's JUST me.
Why should you give a crap about me? I have no idea... BUT....I want to thank you for joining me on my journey of a super shitty - averagely happy - drama filled - absolutely hilariously funny life. I clearly feel the need to spill my guts about what is happening in my life to people I don't know. The funniest most off color TRUE stories you've ever heard - and when you least expect it, you'll cry like a baby.
The photo you are seeing is "my" yard in the summer. A home is not a place it is the inhabitants that make it a home.
With love, Alyce
February 19, 2012
Are you behind me?
In two days it will be ONE month since my husband died. I'm pretty sure it would bot be celebration like, "awwww my baby is one month old today", or "honey it's been one month since we married." One and one I could go but I won't bore you as I'd guess you understand.
I still turn around and while turning I'll start to talk and realize that nobody is there. For 11 years I turned around and Eric was right near me and I could say something thing like, "Why are people such douchebags?" or "God, he's so dumb. Do you think everyone else knows he's dumb?" The issue is that there is nobody there in real life. In two days it will be one month since I lost the right to ask my husband his opinion.
The last month of his life was so very hard on us as a couple. I slept on his hospital bed with him (hospice brought it. If we moved our bed together and I put a few pillow where the bed arm went down, it felt normal. Almost like Eric wasn't sick. He'd hold me around and rubbed my head. That was my second most favorite after the foot rub. Sometimes a foot rub is just too much. The second place prize wasn't difficult to accept either.
Then people, family and friends, started to come into our home. More and more people. The front was always open and people. And they kept coming. It kinda seemed like fun times. We'd gather around Eric as he was paralyzed for the last month of his life from the wait down. We all gathered around Eric in either his wheelchair at first, and then the closer to his end came it was Eric's bed and a couch near by. Private intimate conversations were had. Not by me, but by people that my husband really didn't know long or from what he'd say. "Somethin' don't seam right about that one". "Whattaya mean", I'd ask. "Not sure. Give me some time to figure it out. And figure it out he did. Don't trust this one, tolerate this one, stay away from that one, harmless, watch your money....and blah blah blah...Anyone my husband met he sized you up quickly and you got in or you were out.
This is where I deferred to Eric. He said, "This chick is nuts and I'd keep my distance." A beautiful gift he had. I think being medicated and so sick he lost some of his gift. I might want to believe everyone was genuine if I were dying in a month or two. Most were kept within the fold because of Eric. We need to be involved for the kids sake. O.K. fine. As always the woman makes the friends and the men more or less follow.
My husband thought about the cause and effect as a lifestyle It wasn't a matter of throwing out it was the fact that one man/kids trash is another tresaure. Long analogy. We would do anything for our children. We did.
Sometimes life throws you a curve ball. Hold on a second, that's me. I was thrown a curve ball. After 11 months of fighting the unbeatable and undefeated Cancer, my husband's deal served as the ball. I must say, the first week to ten day was a kinda easy. It was the first time in almost a year, I wasn't thinking about how long we have together, what can I do to make my children's journey not totally fucking heart breaking. How do I help a man who in a likelihood is going to die.
My husband was "a cancer survivor." From June until February he was a dead man walking. I knew this information since August, but didn't tell. I didn't want Eric to count backward until he died. Day 240, Day 239. That's just too much for someone to deal with. That is too much for everyone else except me. I need to be ten steps ahead of death so I can help my family cope when the time comes. In August 2011 I was told in the hallway at UIC that "we're going to try to get him to his birthday." "His birthday I asked. What about the twins birthday in March? And my birthday in June." I was told this was just a best guess, but I better get our affairs in order. We did just that, mostly.
Guiding my family through this hell really went into high gear in August. Looking as normal as possible, acting as normal as I could, I appeared A.O.K. On the inside there was no air. I could barely take a shallow before and you can forget a deep breath. My meds were perfected (thank God) and I could somewhat function.
October the cancer spread yet a'fucking'gain. Shit, I thought. It's over. I called every specialist in this nation to see what to do next? With the cancer reaching his spine and causing so much trouble - any other treatment was impossible. Late October I knew there was no more help to be had. I told no-one. Who else really needed to know. Eric would get so angry with me for not being more hopeful. Occasionally I would talk about hope, knowing there was no hope.
Continuing to take his oral chemo was important. It wasn't helpful to him physically, but it was emotionally. It wasn't harmful and gave him the hope he needed to continue to crawl to his birthday.
Around November is when people started piling into our home in droves. Bringing meals, doing chores, helping with our children. Just beautiful. Eric's health started declining quickly. Pain management was a little more challenging. He aged about 10 years by then. But he still loved our children as if he were 20.
I cared for him from September through two weeks before his death as his sole caretaker. Not his family, not his friends, but me. I cared for him in December when he was a paraplegic. We talked about our dreams for our children. His knowledge of his awareness that his end was near. This is when I started to be hopeful. Maybe because Eric's illness is so rare it'll just stop and reverse itself. Praying is not what I do, but Eric and I would pray together out loud. Not a jesus thing, but a "please let our family be o.k., regardless."
During the last month or so before my husband's death was so extraordinarily difficult emotionally. I sat and waited with him for the unknown. His birthday came on January 17. HA, I was right - this is so rare we don't know what is going to happen. Four days later Eric was dead.
So, I ask again, how long will it be before I stop turning around to ask my former(?) husband, what it is he thinks I should do. Or, do I ever need to stop asking him, the voice of reason. "Well, I'm just saying, what would you do?"
He'd tell me ahhhhh, who needs those bitches. You'll find your next project. You'll become completely involved in it, and start again as you always do. (If you remember, change is not my husband's forte.) I'd ask, "Well what do you think? Do you think it's a good idea." He'd remark, "Does it really matter, you'll do what you're gonna do any." He knew me well.
Well, darling a new day is starting. I'm gonna take the world by the balls. All the people who thought I was "seeking fame", were right. I want more people to listen, to watch, to laugh, to cry. I've got something to say, and whether you like it or not it's only me. Nothing more and certainly not a bit less.
Almost one month after your death, my dear Eric, I will still look to you for your opinion. As always I might not take it. But, I haven't bought hard wood floors yet either.