Memories flooding in

Writing in this blog is another way I am trying to cope, especially today, with a flood of memories that have come since a few days before Valentine's Day. Ed and I never went all out for Valentine's Day, just exchanging cards, an occasional gift, and always a nice dinner at home. This past one really hit me hard nevertheless. I was a crying mess at that week's support group meeting when the facilitator asked us how we were handling the hype. I think it was because the last card I ever got from Ed was Valentine's Day last year. To get through the day, I and several of my support group friends, who were also struggling with all the hype beforehand and the actual day, e-mailed each other all day long to boost our spirits.

Now today, I have come to one of the "first anniversaries." One year ago today, we were preparing for a six-day trip to Iowa to paint Melissa and Mark's newly finished basement family room. I was looking out the front window in the loft, watching Ed put our trash can out for the next morning's pickup, after which we would start our drive to Iowa. What I saw is so vivid in my mind now. He was limping, badly, favoring his right side. When he came inside, he said he thought he must have pulled a groin muscle lifting the garage door because he hadn't felt anything prior to that. Although our double garage door is on an automatic opener, the single door has to be opened manually, so it seemed possible that's what happened. Since it didn't bother him to sit, we decided that a good night's rest, some ice and some Advil would help, and we would still make the trip. The next morning we debated again but still decided to make the trip. Ed even took the first couple hours of driving. When we stopped for lunch in Champaign, IL, he was in severe pain when walking and could barely walk to get lunch. We talked about just turning back, but once again since he could sit and even drive comfortably, we kept on going. The entire time we were in Iowa, he sat in an easy chair; he just could not stand or walk without discomfort, even with taking Advil and using ice. He joked that it was a good thing the Big Ten basketball tournament was on TV to keep him occupied since he couldn't help paint. He made it to the basement twice while we were there to see how the room was coming along. Mostly we all waited on him so he wouldn't have to move around much. He seemed to feel a little bit better after a few days of inactivity. Once we got back home, we scheduled a visit to a GP for the next day. That was the start of many trips to various specialists. The GP also thought it was possible that he pulled a groin muscle or that he had arthritis in his hip, but he wanted to do other tests, too, starting with a urologist to check for prostate cancer. He gave Ed a pain pill to take and arthritis medication to try. The pain pill helped; Ed didn't like the way the Celebrex affected him and he stopped taking it after a few doses.

I really do not believe that losing a week before getting to a doctor made any difference. We obviously didn't know that the pain in Ed's hip was from the deterioration the cancer had already caused as it spread. The doctor never guessed that it was renal cell carcinoma because Ed had absolutely no symptoms of that. The urologist wasn't thinking that either, and first treated Ed for a urinary infection while waiting for test results for prostate cancer, which were negative.

I won't go into any more detail now. It's just been not the best day today even though I have tried to keep busy and not dwell on the memories that have come flooding back. Last night I had a dozen people from the support group here for supper; we had two weeks "off" between sessions, but some of us still like to get together on those off Wednesdays mainly for the companionship and the chance to talk about more than just dealing with our grief. I thought having these friends here would help me handle today, and e-mails from a couple of them today have helped. But I was painfully aware of how empty the house felt when they all left at 10 last night.

Thursday of last week, I finally got down to Cincinnati to see my sister-in-law Maryellen and niece Pat (technically Ed's niece, but she still calls me Aunt Joni, and I like that). I was finally able to deliver the family tree I created with Bob's picture and his kids' and grandkids' names, just like the one I gave everyone at Christmas with Ed's photo and names, showing the research that Ed had done back several generations. I know both Maryellen and Pat appreciated having it. We had a nice, long, lots-of-talking lunch together that I think was good for all of us. We are all still grieving the loss of both brothers--it's still so hard to believe they could both be gone within months of each other. I also had a little alone time with Pat that was good for both of us, too, I think. Kirk, Pat's husband, even made it home from work early, and with their daughter and son getting home from school, it was so pleasant to be with them all.

Some days in the past two months, I have thought that maybe I don't need the support group as much anymore, though I would definitely want to stay in touch with the friends I've made. But facing the "anniversaries" is something others in the group have talked about that I can relate to, so I will be going back for another eight weeks. If I find I'm doing OK or the issues we talk about are becoming repetitive rather than helpful, I can always stop going, or just go occasionally for "booster shots," as the facilitators call them.