How to be a Widow

*sigh*

Who would ever want to purposely write about this crap?

Certainly not me.

I am no expert.

I know how to be a wife.

I know how to be a mom.

I know how to be a woman.

I know how to be a friend.

I know how to be a CASA

I know how to be a Flight Attendant.

I am clueless how to be a widow.

When Henry was first diagnosed, I searched the internet like a freak looking for miracles. Plenty of stories of men with this horrible disease but never an ending. Never a wonderful outcome. Henry's cancer was a rare one. I just wanted an ending. Anything that would be good.

Posts were out there written by wives or loved ones going thru this same thing but the postings would just suddenly stop....

Nothing

My heart somehow seemed to guess the outcome but my brain refused to accept defeat.

The day after Henry died, a friend of the family stopped by with trays and platters of food. Friends had all pitched in to provide food for the people that would be stopping by.

Thick slices of slow cooked tenderloin. Thin slices of fresh salmon with lemon and capers.

Desserts. Meat and cold cut trays. Buns, breads

Fruits, vegetable trays, cheeses, crackers and endless lists of food to feed the masses of people that were to stop by in the days to come.

While everyone else feasted on these foods,

my friend discreetly pulled me aside and gave me some advice.....

"Lana, people are going to be watching you. Judging you. No matter what you say or do, it will be scrutinized and picked apart. What you wear and how your makeup looks each day for the next who knows how long will all be judged. Not because of any other reason than that you are now a widow and people will talk. Be careful."

What?

Holy Crap!

That all sounded horrific.

It also sounded sadly true.

Other friends offered advice of their own. These are actual texts from friends offering their best advice. I think I used each one. Those days were all a giant blur.

Wear low heeled shoes. Don't eat a heavy meal before the showing.

Don't eat fiber or you will have to use the bathroom too often. Don't drink water or you will be running to pee every 5 minutes. Bring mints. Chew gum. Bring lipstick.

Sit whenever possible.

Ask how did you know my husband to people you do not recognize.

Hug those you love. Shake the hands of those who you don't know. Excuse yourself and go to the ladies room any time you need to. Bring Wet-Wipes for your hands. Keep your chin up. Wear waterproof mascara. (L'Oreal Voluminous is amazing! I cried the equivalent of a river but my mascara stood up)

The day of the showing came. I had two black dresses I thought would be appropriate. One a Michael Kors for the showing and the other Alice & Olivia with long black gloves for the burial and funeral mass.

No low cut cleavage showing. No mini lengths. Nothing tight or too sexy. Nothing revealing. No flashy jewelry. No heavy cakey makeup.

I wore my hair straight and not too fancy. Just subtle and sad.

That was me.

Subtle and sad.

I arrived at the funeral parlor with it's old elaborate furnishings, velvet walls and spindely chairs 3 hours before the doors would open. I asked the funeral director to please lock the doors until the family was ready to receive. Ugh. Receive?

My son and daughter-in-law on each side of me, bracing me up. Giving me strength to see him again for the long day and evening to come.

I slowly approached the coffin where my husband was lying in state.

I couldn't wait to see him. He died on a Thursday and it was now Tuesday. I hadn't seen his face since he had died. I made the funeral home wait five hours to take his body from my house.

I didn't want to ever let him go....

I missed him so much. I was excited but scared shitless too.

One on each arm I was shaking. It seemed like a mile to walk the few steps to see him.

He seemed so at peace and looked so handsome. I had brought his wedding ring. His hands had become so swollen those last weeks that he had to remove it. I found it in his bureau in an envelope with the date he had removed it along with these words..... 5/27/2012 "From My Girl. * * * * * "

Those numbers. Those words.

Those words had reduced me to tears and sent me straight to bed for an entire day.

I slipped the ring back where I had placed it so many years ago at our wedding. It looked so right on his finger again. A band of gold with 5 diamonds.

Each diamond a word.

* * * * *

I Love You Very Much.

I* Love* You * Very *Much*

We signed every note we ever left each other with 5 dots.

* * * * *

I Love You Very Much

I bent to kiss his face and whisper how much I love him.

My tears fell like tiny drops of dew onto his face.

Dried up tears.

So many.

I knew he would carry them to eternity and it gave me some dreary kind of comfort. A part of me would forever be with him and since my heart was already there, it seemed right.

I was asked where I wanted to stand.

Near my husband so I could look at his beautiful face and gather strength to get thru this

The family was in place. The doors unlocked.

The people came in droves.

So many people.

So many beautiful stories of the kindness and good deeds or humorous things my husband did to touch so many lives. Each one a treasure. I keep them all in my heart and remember them even now.

The hardest ones to bear were from the young men that worked for him. Some were still working there but many had grown and gone on to bigger and better jobs. Each one came to me with tears and a hug to tell me what my husband did to change their lives for the better. Or a funny story to tell.

To see these grown men crying and missing him so much was very heart-warming yet difficult at the same time.

Hour upon hour the people came.

I knew my husband was wonderful but had no idea so many others did as well.

For nine straight hours they came and line went on and on....

My family and dear friends didn't leave me alone. I finally caught on.

I asked, "Are you all afraid I am a danger to myself or others. Is that why you stay?"

No, they replied, we are just concerned for you to be alone.

Henry had become so much of my life in the last year since his diagnosis that my life was his. I gave up being a CASA, working, YouTube, blogging, shopping, lunches with girlfriends, friends etc. that now that he was gone, I was at a complete loss. No more feeding thru that damn feeding tube every 2 hours. No more helping him shower, no more bandages. No more being caretaker. I would have done it all again for a thousand years if he could have just stayed....

The funeral and burial was to be tomorrow. More of the same.

Sadness and tears.

He Was All I Have

Hello to all of you that have sent all of the amazing notes and to the ones that left me a Tweet or note here  every day, I owe you big-time.
You have no idea how these notes got me thru these last months. I got where I actually looked forward to them. They were a tiny bright spot in an otherwise very dark time.
A thin thread to a different place.


When I was approached to write a book during my husbands treatments, I told the publisher that I wouldn't write about his passing but instead go back. All the way back to my life as a child. 
It was a compromise. 
I totally dropped the ball on my writings the last 4 - 5 months. My hands were full with caring for the love of my life. Who can write when their heart is being crushed. I stopped everything and devoted every second to my husband.
He is gone.
I cry just thinking of him. 
I miss him so much it hurts like a physical pain. 
I seem to hang at the cemetery.
I rake and clean and preen and decorate his gravesite. 
Somehow it gives me comfort. I had to stop telling family and friends that I go there 3 times a day. Now they look at me funny as if I am loco.
Maybe I am.
It's like going to his place. It's all I have.
Someday soon I will write about it all. The 
last months, the beautiful love we had, and his passing.
Right now, I am so raw inside it would come out as rambling jibberish.
Writing clears my thoughts.  It's all I have.
Henry died the way he lived... His way.
If someone can die beautifully, he did.
I held him in my arms. He was all I have...

Take This Cancer and Shove It!

Thursday 
*sigh*
Not much happening here in this 
cancer-rabbit-hole we fell into.
I like it like that.


My husband still can't sip water... Very well anyway.
Food? Forget about it. Can you imagine not eating even ONE bite of food for FOUR whole months? I can't. 
(Food is my Friend)
He says water goes down but he's not sure if it stays there or if it's simply spit. So... I gave him a small amount of orange Gatorade to drink.
It went down and mostly 50% stayed down. Being orange-colored helped to sort out what it was he was spitting out. 
He says he still feels something back there gagging him if/when he does swallow. Hmmm. 
Is it a tumor?
Is it dead cancer?
Is it scar tissue?
Who knows, but he refuses to go see the Ear Nose and Throat doctor and I can see his point... to a point. All of my nudging and nagging get me no where.
(I've even threatened to use the Company Credit Card and go on an extravagant  Shopping Spree again... Still nope.)
He says "Why test what you won't treat."
He just simply does not  LOOK like a man with cancer any longer. 


The dull grey coloring is gone. He has those pretty flushed cheeks and ruddy complexion back that made me fall in love with him.
He is no longer losing weight. I feed him every 3 hours 6 times a day. 6 cans of Isosourse canned liquid a day via his feeding tube.
He no longer coughs up blood.
He no longer has that raspy "hot potato" voice.
He is no longer so fatigued he can't move one step in front of another.
He has even been going to the office 2-3 hours a day.
You tell me.
Does that all sound like a sick and dying man?
No symptoms~~ no cancer, right?
So, we wait. 
The PET Scan is scheduled for the end of November. That will tell the true story.
The truth, The whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
It's still too early to do the PET Scan now as the radiation is still inside his body and he would light up like a nuclear reactor.
So... As I said, we wait.
Waiting has never been my strongpoint but we are learning to cope.
Life goes on and time waits for no man... or woman.


 (Where did I put that Credit Card anyway?)


PS. I noted that Steve Jobs passed away.
RIP Steve Jobs.
He had the same rare Neuroendocrine cancer my husband has.... 
I feel a Scarlett O'Hara moment coming on again......

Today, I Am Scarlett O'Hara Again...

Today is the day.
We have been walking around this house these last few days as nervous as two long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. 
So scared.
So worried. Praying and asking God and the doctors to give good news.
All of you (my little heartbeats) have been so wonderful and diligent.
So kind and supportive. We are no longer strangers. How can we be?
You were here with us thru this fight. 
Pushing. Reading my words.
Praying.
I love you.
We both do.


We arrive at the oncologists office 5 minutes ahead of time. As I exit the car and slam the door behind me, I tell my husband...

"When we return to this car, we will be two completely different people. Our lives are about to change directions. Remember that as we climb back in to go to go on our way."
His look says it all. Kind of a "Oh Crap" look.
We enter the building arm in arm much as we did as we walked down the aisle of our cathedral after saying "I Do" at our wedding.


Both of us have been waffling at what the results of the scan will be.
One second... 
It's going to be All Clear.
The very next half second... 
It's going to be devastating news.
We check in and sit in the waiting room. 
Time clicks by. 
My heart beat quickens each time a new patient is called in. We sit and memories of radiation and chemo slip thru my mind. OUT! Those days were so grim and cold. Today is for positive not memories of painful treatments.
We are finally called.
We pass the oncologist in the hall. 
He hugs us both in a warm bear-hug.
Wait. 
Is that a good sign or a bad sign?
We are put into a holding room to wait some more.  We try to analyze everything. 
"Did he hug us because he knows we need to go choose funeral attire or did he hug us because he is about to give us happy news?" My husband asks me.
"Good grief, stop that. He hugged us because he ...."
My mind goes off that cliff.


The door opens and the doctors smiling face enters.
We both move the very edge of our seats.
He begins to ask random, mundane health questions.
"Get to the point. The Bottom line! Enough with the chit chat." I want to get right in his face and yell.
We've been waiting 6 days for this. 
Finally, his words.
I melt.


All looks Clear.
You are in Partial Remission.


Come back in a month for another CT Scan, a Flex Scope, and a PET Scan in 2 months and we will know more. We can then see if it has spread or if it is all dead. Most of the tumors are gone but some are there and I hope inactive."


Enough said! 
We Gone.
In my mind, we are out the door and escaping this place like a 2nd grader when she hears the bell ring for recess. RUN! School's out!
Freedom! Escape.
Back to the safety of our car and away from this place!


Not so fast, lady.
What the heck is "Partial Remission?
Isn't that somewhat like saying you are Kind of Pregnant?
Just like Scarlett O'Hara would do, I pick up my handbag and practically skip out the door.  Fiddle dee dee.
"We'll think about that tomorrow."

The Countdown

Monday Evening
Friday it began. 
The countdown to Thursday.
To me, it's criminal to make a person wait 6 days to find out the results of the CT Scan taken on Friday.
This weekend was brutal. We did everything to keep our minds off it.
Gin Rummy. 
A race to see who could complete the USA Today Crossword first.  Watched old movies curled up together on the couch. 
It didn't help at all. It's always there. 
Haunting your mind. 
Taking your breath away. One minute convinced the outcome will be perfect. Then in the next instant, dashed to depths of despair that it won't be.
Our appointment on Thursday is at 10:00 and I may not have any eyelashes left by then from stress and worry.
You see, this test will show if the cancer is gone or not. Did the treatments work? All of the pain and trauma? Will it be good news?
So, basically, we will get a 
"You will live" or a "You will not live"
verdict. 
Sometimes I can't even wrap my mind around that.
To look at dying so close and personal? 
Someone asked me in the comments about Henry's anti-nausea medicine. Is the dose strong enough?
It's not that sadly.
It's when he tries to swallow. Tries to brush his teeth, sip water.
He says he gags. 
The tiniest sip of water goes down then comes right back up.
(He hasn't drank water or eaten by mouth in over 3 months)
He says he feels something back there and it chokes him.
(I cringe just writing these words down)
My hope is that it's dead cancer stuck back there. Cancer that was killed by the radiation. Cancer just stuck  there doing nothing but being dead.
Please be DEAD! Please don't show up on a CT Scan as alive!


The doctor's words are our future. 
I wonder if I will whoop in glee or melt into a puddle of crying blubber on the floor of the office. 
If this is this hard for ME... Imagine how it must feel to be Henry?
I can't even.
So... We wait.
We continue to play cards, do the crossword and watch movies with Thursday, 10:00 on our minds.....

Living In Purgatory

Today 
Thursday Sept 22
I drug my laptop out to the front porch on this beautiful autumn day to write this.
Dappled sunlight peeking thru the almost century old trees in the front yard. Light breeze.  Crisp air
You can almost smell fall's impending arrival today. Fall is my 3rd least favorite season. 
Everything is dying....


My Mother-In-Law passed away.
Our good friend with brain cancer did too.
My husband and I didn't even attend either funeral. Not that we didn't care or want to be there to show support and say good-bye  to these two wonderful souls.... 
You see, the day they died, My poor husband was battling his own illness and was crouched once again in front of the lavatory puking his guts up. His blood values so poor that hugging or shaking the hands of loved ones that did come to pay their respects would have and could have been deadly.
Infection.
 I truly think his Mom wouldn't have minded a bit that we weren't there for her on that last day. Our friend wouldn't have cared either. 
Funerals and graveyards and sadness. They are my envelope these days and if I don't put that stamp on them and seal them up tight, what does it even matter? It doesn't.
September 15th came and went but the appointments to check and scan and scope didn't happen for us. My husband refused.
He hasn't given up, he simply doesn't want to know or deal.
I have been nudging him more as each day passes. 
"We really ought to make a phone call to see what is happening with you."
 Limbo is a fabulous place to be but some days it is more like Purgatory. Not knowing what next month or next week or tomorrow or even 30 minutes from now will be is no good way to live.
Last Saturday I had reached my absolute limit. 
My curling iron took the brunt of it and now looks more like the letter "C" than any kind of hair styling tool since I banged it over and over and over on my vanity table  until it was DEAD.  
Repeating over and over with each blow the word 
DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD DEAD.
My heart feels dead. My mother in law is dead. 
Our lives and our future seems dead.
Do I exaggerate? Too much Drama?
Ha~ 
Try it for a week.
Live it for a month.
Experience it with a loved one.
I feel like we are living in a pressure cooker and the lid blew straight off the top on Saturday.
I get so many notes and phone calls from amazing friends that say,
"Just hire someone. Pay a nurse to come feed him via the tube for a day or even two. Hire someone to give him his meds and clean up the puke and do what you are doing daily. Get out of that house! 
Go LIVE!"
Ya, right.... How in the name of God do you PAY to have someone hold your husbands hand or rub his shoulders as he hurls up two days of meals? Will someone that doesn't truly love him bother to wipe his mouth and give him comfort when he's hurting?
 How do you PAY to have a nurse LOVE your man for you?
My answer, at least for me... You don't.


I did what any red blooded American wife would do in time of crisis and frustration.
I took the credit card and Went Shopping! 
Boy, did I shop. It felt so good. So wrong yet so right.
I returned home after a 2 hour binge at the mall.
It was my version of Shopping Fast and Shopping Furious.
 Sephora, Saks, Neiman Marcus, Macy's. 
Pure Bliss and forgetfulness and racks and shelves of normalcy. 






You know how you lay in bed in the quiet of the night right before you go to sleep but instead you and your spouse talk? 
Some of our best talks are at that time. Heart to heart in-depth talks.
Two nights ago, holding hands in the dark, we made the decision to finally call the doctors in two weeks and get the ball rolling once again. See what and where we are  in this disease. 
Is the cancer gone? 
Two weeks.


The phone rang yesterday morning.
It was the oncologist's office. 
"We have you scheduled for your scans on Friday after blood work at the lab. Be there at 12:45. Expect the scans to last 4 hours. Then, you have an appointment on Thursday the 29th with the doctor to discuss your results."
Friday.
Tomorrow.
We will have the results on Thursday, next week.
I think we both want to rush back to the safe cocoon of our ignorance now that it's out of our hands.
I WILL get him to that appointment tomorrow. 
I will!
We are both so Nervous. Anxious. Fearful.
Fingers Crossed.....

Let's Do the Limbo Dance

Good Morning.
Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I have no excuse except my life is not my own anymore and at the end of each day, I am usually too tired or too emotionally drained to write my own name.

Besides, there's not much happening in the way of new information that would or could help anyone going thru this nightmare.
I have made a point to take at least one hour each day and either go for a walk or go to the gym to punch a punching bag or do something so simple and delightful as visit a friend. 
The 15th of September is fast approaching. The 15th is the day we are to go get the Flex-Scope to look and see what is happening in the throat that we so recently burned to a crisp to kill the cancer and anything else in it's path.
But.... Here is where it comes down to choices. Not MY choices but my husbands. It is, after all his life and illness.

He wants to do absolutely nothing. 
Nothing.
No tests or scopes or scans or needles or IV fluids or blood transfusions. No shots or pills or rinses. 
No more medications.
No doctors. 
No appointments.
Nothing.
At first, I raved at him like a lunatic. 

WHY?
What do you mean do nothing? 
"ARE YOU CRAZY?"
I am one of those people that learned a thing or two from watching Dr. Phil.
My philosophy is: 
"I'd rather be Happy than Right"
I don't need to be right. I'd rather be happy. Being right all the time isn't me. I can be wrong too. I am not a control freak in any way but I was going to fight this one to the bitter end! 
In tears and in a rage I stood my ground. 
Face red. Hair in tangles and fists clenched.
This side of hysterical. 


"Yes, you ARE going to scans and scopes and appointments. I'll drag your sorry ass all over town but we ARE and we will! Are you hearing me, Mister?"
We were NOT going to do nothing. 
Nope. No way. Not an option. 

Then out of the blue I got this note from a beautiful YouTube Subscriber:

Hi

Just wanted to let you know that you aren't alone with this cancer thing. My dad was diagnosed last year with poorly differentiated carcinoma. Pretty much the same thing your husband has, but different wording. My dad, at the age of 58 noticed a growth on his tonsils. He went to have it checked out, which is when the doctors decided to remove his tonsils and do a biopsy. The say the older you get the worse the recovery is for having your tonsils removed. Tis a true statement. The biopsy came back stating my dad had cancer. They immediately started chemo twice a week and radiation 5 days a week (as I'm sure you know EKG's and whatnot). My dads whole face and neck was blistered. He was constantly spitting of that mucus stuff you were mentioning. He couldn't eat, he couldn't drink, he could barely sleep. I've never seen my father be as thin as he was. The pain pills he was on, made him hallucinate. It was terrifying and I really thought I was going to lose my father. He pulled through it though. He last step was to go get a final test to see if the treatments worked. Being the stubborn man he was. He refused. The doctors told him if the treatments didn't work, the next step was to do a massive surgery on his neck and jaw, removing part of the jaw and going in and removing the cancer, as well as additional chemo and radiation. My dad said that wasn't an option. He said he rather not know if he still has it. He said if he has it, then he will die from it, but he rather not live the rest of his life knowing that is what will lay him to rest.

Anyway, I rambled enough, but just know you are not alone and I know what you are going through. I hope for the best for you two and I hope your husband stays strong!

I read this note 5 times. I read it to my husband. He made me read it again nodding to each word in the entire note.

We did everything we were told to do to this point. 

We failed at nothing.

No matter what the scopes and scans and tests reveal, my husband won't do the surgery (Can you blame him?) So why?

It's up to God.

So, we are sitting in Limbo Land doing the Limbo Dance and that's fine. 

In a month, I will gently nudge him to move in that direction but for now....

I would rather be happy than right.

Limbo cool limbo fine

Ev'rybody gets a chance

Clap your hands it's party time

Do the limbo dance

Let's go on a holiday

(let's go to jamaica)

Fly in to montego bay

(let's go to jamaica)

Maybe find a hideaway

(let's go to jamaica)

We can limbo on the sand

To a steel drum band

Limbo cool limbo fine

Ev'rybody gets a chance

Come on and move your body down

Do the limbo dance

Limbo cool limbo fine

Ev'rybody gets a chance

Clap your hands it's party time

Do the limbo dance

You will hear the limbo song

(when you're in jamaica)

You'll be dancin'all night long

(when you're in jamaica)

We can party on and on

(when you're in jamaica)

We can limbo on the sand

To a steel drum band

Nothing Left Today

Sunday
Today,  I am writing this because I have a break. Two minutes.
 I have had so many notes and letters and calls wondering "Why no blog post?" 
"Is everything ok?"
No. Not really. It's not.


My husband is better one day and then bottoms out the next. Two trips to the ER. IV fluids every Thursday and blood work. 
Vomiting.
Diarrhea one day
Constipation the next.
Did I say vomiting? 
Anti-nausea meds and Murilax.
Which is it today? Vomiting.


Blood results call for blood transfusions.Hemoglobin is as low as it gets.
6-8 hours in the Emergency Room.
New blood. Thank You to whoever donated this blood. Who are you?


My Mother in law is dying.
My heart is breaking.
Will I ever stop crying?


I can't go next door to see her. I have nothing left. Zero.
I feel so guilty. My mother in law is like the mom I never had to me and I can't see her like this. I can't spare one second of heartache to give her? 
I feel so numb and empty today. Hopeless.


My son just called. His girlfriend left him. He told me he wants to starve himself to death.
I just hung up on him.  My heart is wrung out to the last drop.
Tomorrow will be better, right?

What a Day

Thursday 5:00 a.m.
I am writing this in complete darkness on my iPad on 3G.
How did we ever get by in life without 3G?

Now that treatments are over and we are "Out to Pasture" I finally made an appointment to get my hair done. Nasty looking roots and scruffy hair. Who am I these days?
I needed a three hour window between feeding tubes, bandage dressings, pills and just being "nurse" and was really looking forward to today. 
To go to a salon and forget for three hours and be pampered. *sigh


My three hour hair appointment was going to be like Heaven. Escape.
3 hours in a beauty salon... New sights and smells and people becoming beautiful. Beautiful hasn't been in my vocabulary at all lately. I feel a mess. No feeding tubes or bandages or nausea here... As soon as my sister Karen applies the color to my hair and the foil wraps I take two minutes to call home.
The phone rings. I almost hang up worried that I will have woken him and sleep is so precious right now. It comes and goes for him in 3-5 minute intervals. The mucus is like the Spawn of Satan waiting there to choke or drown.
One more ring and I'm going to hang up and fly out the door foils and all and go check on him. I can peek in the window and just see and know he's alright.


He answers in a sad little croak. "Hello?"
"How are you? Are you ok?" I ask with a load of apprehension sitting on me like a brick bat.
"I'm fine. He answers back but I can tell, Something isn't fine.
"What is it? I can tell by your voice something's up, now spill it. Spill it now!" 





I tell him with so much authority. 
When did I become so authoritative?
He knows I mean business so he tells me. 
"I found a lesion on my tongue. It's small but it hurts."
My heart just sinks and I swear I feel every foil on my head go limp.
A sore on his tongue could mean this stuff is spreading. Already? Treatment just ended on Monday. Does this and can this metastasize so quickly? Not going there. I am being and living and EATING positivity these days. Eating it for breakfast lunch and dinner.
"I'm on my way out the door" I screech into the phone. My voice so high pitched I don't even recognize that it's me once again in panic mode.
"I'm fine Lana.  Just relax and then check it when you get back. I shouldn't have told you" he says so weakly into the phone, his voice so tired.


My day at the salon just turned not so fun and I asked Karen to step it up. It's finished and looks fine. 
It's hair.
I race home. There is a storm brewing. 
Big dark evil looking clouds fill the afternoon sky as I pull into the garage.
I run in the house throwing my handbag and heels to the side like they are enemies and get to work.
I check out this lesion. It's there but not as horrible as I had imagined on the drive home.
I will call the doctor tomorrow or as soon as this storm rages itself out. The wind is picking up and lightning strikes are everywhere outside. The world seems to be groaning in response to my fear of lesions and bad hair.
I set out to feed Henry his meal via his feeding tube. Sometimes I feel like I have a 3 month baby to care for, but as moms we don't mind feedings etc. It's what we do.
Te phone rings as soon as I flush the tube with water and shut it. It's my son telling me to watch the weather reports. It's getting worse outside by the minute.Sheets of sideways rain, hail and wind.
I run to gather candles and flashlights as the dark sky menaces and the wind howls.
I hear a limb crack off the 75 year old trees in the front yard.
The power flickers then goes off with a crack of nearby lightning then goes off. 
Total darkness.


My husband is pacing in circles and I can see in the dim light of the flashlight that he is looking  the color of a rotten green egg and says he feels nauseous.
My cell phone rings.
It's my mother in law's nurse. Her oxygen is run by electric and the power has been cut off by the storm. Can I come next door and help her? The reserve portable tanks are there and full of precious air but she can't get them running. 

Are you serious right now?

I can hear the  hail as it bounces off the skylights. :Ping


Lightning strikes are coming faster by the second. The storm intensifies and so does my husbands nausea.
My husband is on his knees puking into the guest powder room toilet. The storm is raging.
Who and what do I do first?
This rescue of my mother in law's oxygen supply has been practiced and rehearsed many times by her in the last 6 months. She lives in constant fear of the power going out and her oxygen being cut off. 
She will panic and I know it. She's 95 and very ill herself. 
She's 95.
At 95 years old you get one thing in your mind and that's all that's there. Her oxygen situation. She dwells upon it. 
Daily.


I asked her once, "Sally, if there's a full on tornado going on and your power goes out, what do you want me to do?" 
I truly dreaded her answer. She's 95 you know.
"Why Lana,  you come over and get my portable oxygen going for me!"
Simple as that, huh?
Just open the door and do I run over on foot or drive my car? Which is safer in a tornado?


 I check on my husband in the weak light of the flashlight. I give him cold washcloths for his mouth and get him settled back into his chair. He's ok just wracked by the heaves to his sore damaged throat and the newly filled feeding tube. Hurling with all that is so painful and traumatic.


I grab my big umbrella.
The storm has not let up one bit.

I brace myself, count to three and run the 200 yards to my Mother In Law's house.  My new hair-do or the fear of lightning hitting the umbrella? I throw the umbrella aside and make a dash. Run!
Her oxygen is off, the house is pitch black and the girl we hired to care for her is scared to death. Of the storm or the lack of Sally's oxygen I don't know which.
 Her hands are shaking. I can't see her face in the pitch darkness but I can sense her fear. 
I get her oxygen running and do most of it by memory in the dark as the storm rages on outside. Done. 


Now back home I race across the yard that separates our two houses to check on Henry.
He looks so wan and weak. Pale and puny.
Tomorrow we go for blood work and IV fluids to hopefully give him some pep in his step.
Still no electricity. 

10:45 a.m. Thursday
We arrive at the chemo infusion clinic with no showers and half brushed teeth. Mussed up hair and yesterday's clothes on.  All this from a girl that would apply blush just to go out to get the mail.
We sit in a private infusion room. No more 3G today as I write this down in my blog.  The Chemo clinic has power!
My blog has become my lifeline to the outside of this cancerous world we have found ourselves dumped in to.
Storms are over.