Driving to Iowa on Sept. 26 and back on Oct. 9 turned out to be no problem for me. Once again I surprised myself with how easily I handled it with few breaks and no naps along the way. My days at Melissa and Mark's were filled with doing things around their house so that they could concentrate on the baby. I had my turns with Will, of course. A few people have asked me how it feels to be a grandmother, and I have honestly answered that it hasn't really sunk in yet. Perhaps because Will is such a good baby and his parents are doing so well with him, I find myself thinking--and worrying--about Melissa's recovery more than about the baby. Her blood sugars have been all over the place, and she has experienced some really high blood sugars that plummet so low so quickly that she breaks out into a sweat and feels ill. That scares her and me.
Because of that and because I kept finding more things I could do around the house, I never did drive over to Des Moines to see friends. I didn't make it to tailgating with friends in Iowa City either before the football game on Sept. 29. That was because I was up until 2 a.m. after Will's birth, so getting up early and driving with the football crowd to Iowa City and finding parking and walking to the tailgate spot just didn't happen. I did, however, take a drive Sunday afternoon by myself to see North Liberty and to find the Pearson building in Coralville, which is where I call into when I have a work question. Melissa has been suggesting that the fast-growing North Liberty would be a good place for me to move to--not so close to her that I'd just drop in but close enough to be there quickly if need be. I also drove around the west side of Cedar Rapids after church on Sunday to see how it's grown since I lived there back in 1976-77. Both places have spread out and are continuing to grow, but neither gave me the feeling that I "belong" there. I have thought that if a full-time job at Pearson were available to me, I'd have a reason to move back to Iowa and locate in the Iowa City-Cedar Rapids area. Everyone who talks to me about moving assumes I will move back to Iowa to be closer to Melissa. She wants me to move somewhere closer, but at this point I don't have the energy to start all over someplace where I don't know anyone, and it really bothers me to depend on Melissa when she has so much to cope with herself. On the drive back, I listened to all the Chicagoland radio stations and thought about how much I liked working at Elgin Community College, singing with the Elgin Choral Union, and taking advantage of all Chicago offers (despite the high cost of living). In short, I'm not ready to make a decision about moving, mainly because even just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm abandoning Ed and our last home. Wow, that's some pretty heavy thinking I just shared!
Planning my travel around Pearson's work requirements worked out fine. I did the new software download and computer check before I left; did my training on Oct. 10, the last available day for it; and started grading SAT essays yesterday. I'll be working every day for 12 or 13 days. I considered going back to Iowa after that and before the next scoring session begins, especially if Melissa could use some help. But for right now I have no concrete plans about when I will next make the trip (except I do know I will fly, not drive).
Will had his first doctor checkup yesterday; he is doing well. He now weighs 9 pounds 14 ounces, is 22 inches long. Before I left, he developed more than the usual "eye gunk" around his left eye that also started to appear around his right eye. The doctor suspects a very minor eye infection, not unusual in newborns, which is being treated with some sort of oil that Melissa puts on his lids and eyelashes 3 times a day, which then works its way to the eye as he opens and closes. Last night she reported his eyes already were looking better. They have the go-ahead to introduce a bottle (she started pumping several days ago). Will seems to want to feed off and on for hours, alternating with a little sleep (called cluster feeding), and letting you know with his wailing that he's ready to eat again (hence, I call him our own William, Prince of Wails). Unfortunately, his favorite time to do that is around 10 p.m. to 2 a.m., not good for Mark getting enough sleep to function well at work. So they will try to get him to move that cluster feeding to earlier in the evening and, at the doctor's suggestion, also use some formula at night so he feels fuller for a longer time.
The other news is that yesterday Melissa and Mark bought a 2008 Toyota RAV 4. A friend who works at the dealership got them a good deal. It's silver with gray interior. What a difference in roominess and ride compared with Melissa's 1999--I just blanked on what car she had, and Ed and I even bought it for her in Elgin, IL.
Ending this blog with a fact I can't bring to mind does not bode well for focusing on essays today. Let's hope some coffee and breakfast gets my mind working better.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
It's a boy!
William James Wehr--to be known as Will
Born 10:36 p.m. Central time, Friday, September 28, 2007
9 pounds, 8 ounces, 21 inches long
lots of hair the color of Melissa's
Melissa was admitted to Mercy Hospital in Cedar Rapids at 7:30 a.m. on Friday, Sept. 28, as planned. A nurse was with her practically non-stop from the time she was admitted. By 8:30 she was settled in a large birthing room, with IV drips of fluids, insulin, and an antibiotic (she tested positive for Group B strep, not uncommon in pregnant women). At 9:00 the oxytocin drip was started. She was almost at 3 cm dilated and she actually was already having contractions when she got to the hospital, but she never felt them; the monitors picked them up immediately. Once the oxytocin was on board, the pain increased and she began to realize she had more than a backache. Up until around 2 p.m., she had contractions but handled them well with her breathing technique and was laughing and talking in between them. Her Dad and Peggy and I were with her and Mark all morning, Mark's sister Michelle came around 11, Mark's mother Marna came around 1.
At 2:15 p.m. Melissa had a much stronger, more intense contraction. Then her eyes got really wide and she thought she had gone to the bathroom and was embarrassed. I said, "Are you sure it isn't something else like your water breaking?" and at that moment the gush came, and the nurse confirmed it at 2:17. Then 1 1/2 minutes later the doctor walked in, ready to break her water--too late, doc! Things picked up after that and at 4 p.m. Melissa said, "I'm going to start getting crabby now, so everybody has to leave." The waiting area was right by her room and the nurse's station, so we could easily see who was going in and out of her room with what additional bags of fluid or whatever. At 6:50 p.m., Mark came out and said Melissa was fully dilated and was going to start pushing, but the doctor had warned it could take 3 hours. We were all sure it wouldn't take that long, but after 3 hours, her nurse came out to the nurse's station and said, "We're calling it. We're going C-section." During the 3 hours of pushing, the baby had not made much progress.
Within 15 minutes, we saw the arrival of the anesthesiologist (Michelle, who works in Mercy's cath lab, said he was one of the best and frequently specifically requested), and the neonatologist (again, Michelle said he was the best, so she was very confident). A neonatologist is always called in for C-sections, and this doctor came all dressed up and had obviously not been in the hospital when he got the call. Within minutes of their arrival, Melissa was wheeled in her birthing bed into the nearby operating room, so she saw us all standing there and we waved to each other. At about 10:40 we saw the neonatologist leave the area and presumed from that that the baby was born and was fine. At 10:45, because the other parties with us in the waiting area happened to not be speaking at that moment, I could hear the intercom-like communication to the nurses station that said, "We have a little boy at 22:36." Then within seconds, the lullaby chimed throughout the floor, the signal that a baby had been born. I told everybody that was the confirmation and I was sure I heard that it was a boy. We all sat there tensely waiting for official word. A nurse came out to us with a big smile on her face and apologized for not being able to tell us anything because of HIPPA, but she would send Mark out. He came out 5 minutes later with the announcement. Earlier in the evening, we all speculated about how Mark would look and what he would say at that moment. He had a slight smile on his face but was obviously exhausted himself, and as soon as I heard his voice I heard mostly concern and only a little relief. It took a minute for the happiness to come through.
In the operating room, Melissa opted not to be totally knocked out for the C-section but only have a spinal that would leave her alert, basically numbing only her lower half. However, that went slightly abnormally. The epidural she had had worked completely on her left side and only partially on her right side. She had been given a bolus epidural, but that didn't take on the right either, and then the spinal on top of that "traveled" too far up her spine so that she felt like she couldn't breathe. She panicked. They tried first the nasal canula to get her some oxygen, but she was really "freaking out" that she couldn't breathe. The anesthesiologist tried to talk her down but had to go to the hand-pumped oxygen because she said she couldn't feel any air in her lungs. Mark was very worried about her. As soon as they got the baby out and she saw him and held him for a second, the anesthesiologist sedated her so that she slept for about 20 minutes. He told her when she woke up she wouldn't have that feeling of not being able to breathe--and that's how it worked out. The baby was given a bottle and breast fed a little while still in the operating room. His first blood sugar reading was good enough that he could stay with Melissa and Mark rather than go to the NICU as was originally expected. At midnight, the new family finally got to go back to the birthing room and we finally got to get a glance at them. At 12:15 a.m., we were allowed in the room for a few minutes.
Mark held the baby with confidence and pride. Melissa looked totally exhausted but was smiling. The baby is BIG! At 9 pounds, 8 ounces, he has almost already outgrown the newborn diaper size. Because he is so long, he doesn't look like a pudgy baby. Melissa was surprised he has so much hair. Mark is glad it's her color and not his. We had all speculated earlier in the day that this baby would have to be a redhead because so much red hair runs through both families.
Melissa just called at 9 this morning. She didn't sleep well after we left because she kept waking up and looking to make sure Will was breathing. He has had several more blood sugar readings and they have been going up and down pretty much parallelling his feeding cycle. A pediatrician from the practice they'll be going to examined him this morning and said all is fine. Melissa and Mark are both very tired. Her blood sugar is running high, so a doctor from her internist's practice will be seeing her this morning to work out what to do for her insulin--either keep her on a drip or put her back on her pump are the two most likely choices. The anesthesiologist came to see them at 7 this morning. Melissa thanked him for all he did because he really worked at keeping her calm and reassured, but she thinks he is upset at the way things went last night. He told them her breathing panic was not normal, that that effect of the spinal was never supposed to happen. He gave them great detail about what happened within her body and reassured her there will be no aftereffects. She is only just now beginning to feel pain from the C-section incision, but she's been told she will get pain medication, she just doesn't know when that will start. She and Mark are going to try to get some more sleep this morning, so I hope they'll get the chance. There are a lot of people who want to hear all the news and talk with them, and of course there will be a steady parade of friends wanting to visit.
I was calm throughout the morning and afternoon in Melissa's birthing room and in the waiting area and took frequent walks around the hospital to give them some space. Once she started pushing, I got more tense. As those 3 hours wore on, I got more and more scared for them. During the C-section, I was constantly having to hold back tears and was totally wound up with fright. Overhearing that nurse's communication from the operating room was when I could finally breathe more normally again. Then with Mark's quick summary of what happened in the operating room, I tensed up all over again until I could see Melissa for myself. During the entire day yesterday, Ed's wedding ring, which I wear on my right hand, never before got such a workout of squeezing and twisting and rubbing.
Because of how late it was in the Eastern time zone when we finally had concrete word about Will, I called only my sister and Ed's daughter Judi (who had called several times during the evening for updates). Before I went to bed at 2 a.m., I e-mailed neice Pat, cousins Carole and Dot, and neighbor Bill Morgan. So that should start the word spreading. Now this morning I have the happy chore of calling and e-mailing more people with the news. I called my mother already--though I'm not sure she really absorbed all the details I gave her--and already got a call from my next-door neighbor Sherry who was sure that baby had to be here by now. As a flight attendant, she sometimes is assigned a flight to Cedar Rapids and sometimes is here even overnight. From her comments about already having a baby gift for Will, I'm guessing this new baby is getting something Iowa Hawkeyes from her, and she says she may even try to visit when she has an overnight in Cedar Rapids. Even though sometimes I yell at God for what happened to this family this year, I also thank Him for such good neighbors and friends and for the blessings of family.
Born 10:36 p.m. Central time, Friday, September 28, 2007
9 pounds, 8 ounces, 21 inches long
lots of hair the color of Melissa's
Melissa was admitted to Mercy Hospital in Cedar Rapids at 7:30 a.m. on Friday, Sept. 28, as planned. A nurse was with her practically non-stop from the time she was admitted. By 8:30 she was settled in a large birthing room, with IV drips of fluids, insulin, and an antibiotic (she tested positive for Group B strep, not uncommon in pregnant women). At 9:00 the oxytocin drip was started. She was almost at 3 cm dilated and she actually was already having contractions when she got to the hospital, but she never felt them; the monitors picked them up immediately. Once the oxytocin was on board, the pain increased and she began to realize she had more than a backache. Up until around 2 p.m., she had contractions but handled them well with her breathing technique and was laughing and talking in between them. Her Dad and Peggy and I were with her and Mark all morning, Mark's sister Michelle came around 11, Mark's mother Marna came around 1.
At 2:15 p.m. Melissa had a much stronger, more intense contraction. Then her eyes got really wide and she thought she had gone to the bathroom and was embarrassed. I said, "Are you sure it isn't something else like your water breaking?" and at that moment the gush came, and the nurse confirmed it at 2:17. Then 1 1/2 minutes later the doctor walked in, ready to break her water--too late, doc! Things picked up after that and at 4 p.m. Melissa said, "I'm going to start getting crabby now, so everybody has to leave." The waiting area was right by her room and the nurse's station, so we could easily see who was going in and out of her room with what additional bags of fluid or whatever. At 6:50 p.m., Mark came out and said Melissa was fully dilated and was going to start pushing, but the doctor had warned it could take 3 hours. We were all sure it wouldn't take that long, but after 3 hours, her nurse came out to the nurse's station and said, "We're calling it. We're going C-section." During the 3 hours of pushing, the baby had not made much progress.
Within 15 minutes, we saw the arrival of the anesthesiologist (Michelle, who works in Mercy's cath lab, said he was one of the best and frequently specifically requested), and the neonatologist (again, Michelle said he was the best, so she was very confident). A neonatologist is always called in for C-sections, and this doctor came all dressed up and had obviously not been in the hospital when he got the call. Within minutes of their arrival, Melissa was wheeled in her birthing bed into the nearby operating room, so she saw us all standing there and we waved to each other. At about 10:40 we saw the neonatologist leave the area and presumed from that that the baby was born and was fine. At 10:45, because the other parties with us in the waiting area happened to not be speaking at that moment, I could hear the intercom-like communication to the nurses station that said, "We have a little boy at 22:36." Then within seconds, the lullaby chimed throughout the floor, the signal that a baby had been born. I told everybody that was the confirmation and I was sure I heard that it was a boy. We all sat there tensely waiting for official word. A nurse came out to us with a big smile on her face and apologized for not being able to tell us anything because of HIPPA, but she would send Mark out. He came out 5 minutes later with the announcement. Earlier in the evening, we all speculated about how Mark would look and what he would say at that moment. He had a slight smile on his face but was obviously exhausted himself, and as soon as I heard his voice I heard mostly concern and only a little relief. It took a minute for the happiness to come through.
In the operating room, Melissa opted not to be totally knocked out for the C-section but only have a spinal that would leave her alert, basically numbing only her lower half. However, that went slightly abnormally. The epidural she had had worked completely on her left side and only partially on her right side. She had been given a bolus epidural, but that didn't take on the right either, and then the spinal on top of that "traveled" too far up her spine so that she felt like she couldn't breathe. She panicked. They tried first the nasal canula to get her some oxygen, but she was really "freaking out" that she couldn't breathe. The anesthesiologist tried to talk her down but had to go to the hand-pumped oxygen because she said she couldn't feel any air in her lungs. Mark was very worried about her. As soon as they got the baby out and she saw him and held him for a second, the anesthesiologist sedated her so that she slept for about 20 minutes. He told her when she woke up she wouldn't have that feeling of not being able to breathe--and that's how it worked out. The baby was given a bottle and breast fed a little while still in the operating room. His first blood sugar reading was good enough that he could stay with Melissa and Mark rather than go to the NICU as was originally expected. At midnight, the new family finally got to go back to the birthing room and we finally got to get a glance at them. At 12:15 a.m., we were allowed in the room for a few minutes.
Mark held the baby with confidence and pride. Melissa looked totally exhausted but was smiling. The baby is BIG! At 9 pounds, 8 ounces, he has almost already outgrown the newborn diaper size. Because he is so long, he doesn't look like a pudgy baby. Melissa was surprised he has so much hair. Mark is glad it's her color and not his. We had all speculated earlier in the day that this baby would have to be a redhead because so much red hair runs through both families.
Melissa just called at 9 this morning. She didn't sleep well after we left because she kept waking up and looking to make sure Will was breathing. He has had several more blood sugar readings and they have been going up and down pretty much parallelling his feeding cycle. A pediatrician from the practice they'll be going to examined him this morning and said all is fine. Melissa and Mark are both very tired. Her blood sugar is running high, so a doctor from her internist's practice will be seeing her this morning to work out what to do for her insulin--either keep her on a drip or put her back on her pump are the two most likely choices. The anesthesiologist came to see them at 7 this morning. Melissa thanked him for all he did because he really worked at keeping her calm and reassured, but she thinks he is upset at the way things went last night. He told them her breathing panic was not normal, that that effect of the spinal was never supposed to happen. He gave them great detail about what happened within her body and reassured her there will be no aftereffects. She is only just now beginning to feel pain from the C-section incision, but she's been told she will get pain medication, she just doesn't know when that will start. She and Mark are going to try to get some more sleep this morning, so I hope they'll get the chance. There are a lot of people who want to hear all the news and talk with them, and of course there will be a steady parade of friends wanting to visit.
I was calm throughout the morning and afternoon in Melissa's birthing room and in the waiting area and took frequent walks around the hospital to give them some space. Once she started pushing, I got more tense. As those 3 hours wore on, I got more and more scared for them. During the C-section, I was constantly having to hold back tears and was totally wound up with fright. Overhearing that nurse's communication from the operating room was when I could finally breathe more normally again. Then with Mark's quick summary of what happened in the operating room, I tensed up all over again until I could see Melissa for myself. During the entire day yesterday, Ed's wedding ring, which I wear on my right hand, never before got such a workout of squeezing and twisting and rubbing.
Because of how late it was in the Eastern time zone when we finally had concrete word about Will, I called only my sister and Ed's daughter Judi (who had called several times during the evening for updates). Before I went to bed at 2 a.m., I e-mailed neice Pat, cousins Carole and Dot, and neighbor Bill Morgan. So that should start the word spreading. Now this morning I have the happy chore of calling and e-mailing more people with the news. I called my mother already--though I'm not sure she really absorbed all the details I gave her--and already got a call from my next-door neighbor Sherry who was sure that baby had to be here by now. As a flight attendant, she sometimes is assigned a flight to Cedar Rapids and sometimes is here even overnight. From her comments about already having a baby gift for Will, I'm guessing this new baby is getting something Iowa Hawkeyes from her, and she says she may even try to visit when she has an overnight in Cedar Rapids. Even though sometimes I yell at God for what happened to this family this year, I also thank Him for such good neighbors and friends and for the blessings of family.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
The new addition will soon be here
Tomorrow is the day Melissa will be induced. Perhaps before day's end tomorrow there will be a new life in this world--and doesn't she and all of us hope this won't be two days of labor! This is supposed to be a time of excitement and anticipation, and to some degree for me, it is. But it is an unusual mix of other emotions for me as well. Mark used the phrase "lack of spontaneity" tonight when I was trying to express how different this experience seemed. There's no surprise element of going into labor, though the big surprise will be to find out the sex of this child. I suppose the list-making Ed was always doing and the organizing gene I seem to have passed on to Melissa would say that it's appropriate to have the birth planned like this, right down to the list of who is going to call whom with the news. My excitement is tempered, however. I'm worried about Melissa and the baby, how she will bear up especially if it's a long labor, how the doctors will keep her blood sugar under control during labor and afterwards, whether there will be any ill effects on the baby from having a diabetic mother, how easily and quickly she and the baby will recover. Melissa has taken such good care of herself throughout her pregnancy and has had good medical care, so I shouldn't worry so much, but I have been and am still worrying. Then I think so much about Ed not being here to share this experience with me. Sure, he had many grandchildren, most of them born after we met. So I know his elation at each one's birth. But I think the birth of this baby would have been different for us. Perhaps that is self-centered thinking, but we talked so much about this baby in the first few months of this year, not just with each other but with Melissa, and that didn't happen while we awaited the births of his grandchildren. Back in the spring, I prayed so hard that medical intervention would stem Ed's cancer long enough for him to feel good and be able to be here in Iowa for this birth and to get to know this baby. I feel like we were cheated out of this happiness, and I'm sometimes angry about that as well as so sad about it. I'm sure this mix of emotions will still be within me as this child is born, but I hope the joy will take over so I can share in Melissa and Mark's happiness.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Thinking about changes
Today I was thinking about all the changes that have occurred in my life in 2007 so far. It's rather overwhelming. Some are minor changes, but obviously others were and are major and are influencing the course of my life.
Maybe I got to thinking about such things because I sold my car today. I loved my Buick from the first time I saw it and drove it--I especially loved the sun roof. But practicality said that keeping two cars was ridiculous from an expense standpoint, and mine was a 1999 versus Ed's 2006 Buick, so mine was the one to go. It was surprisingly easy to find a buyer--it's a guy from my support group. During one recent meeting we all started talking about our frustrations with so much paperwork involved in settling an estate, not feeling up to dealing with auto service and plumbers and other household things, not knowing what to do with excess cars. I jumped in and said that I had a car that I'd probably be selling, and people started asking me about it. The group facilitator wasn't too happy with the way the discussion was going and told us to take our swap meet to the lobby during the break. I had been putting off going to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles to change the titles on both cars from our two names to just my name. Then, I had motivation to get that done. The guy sitting next to me at group asked me about the car during the break. He looked at it last week before group and brought his daughter to see and drive it on Sunday. He thought my asking price was fair--I showed him the Kelly Blue Book and the NADA values for a private sale. (Undoubtedly, Ed would say I didn't ask enough since the sale went so easily, but he'd say it with a smile.) Then tonight the guy brought me the check, and his daughter drove off with a big smile on her face. So what Melissa referred to as my "old lady car" is now proudly driven by a rather young lady. Ironically, at last week's support group during the break, a woman asked me whether my car was still for sale. Her husband might be interested, she said. So I even had a backup possible sale.
Two weeks ago I had a new roof put on the house. I know some people say not to make major decisions for a year after you lose someone, but since May I have been dealing with the insurance company about probable hail damage to the roof from a storm last fall. All my surrounding neighbors had their roofs replaced, paid for by their insurance companies. In May, Ed wasn't well enough to meet with any contractors, so I did with some help from my next-door neighbor, Bill Morgan. Despite having two go-rounds with two different insurance adjusters, one in May and one in July, and having roofers try to make my case to them as well, State Farm would not budge from the opinion that yes, there was hail damage to all the window screens and the roof ridge vent and the air conditioner fins, but there was no hail damage to the roof shingles. Ed and I had talked about replacing the roof a while ago because there were actually two different shingles up there--the original on the upper roof and a newer shingle on the lower roof as a result of a leak the original owner had, except the lower shingles were a different color. So considering that all the roofers who inspected the roof said the old shingles should be replaced and that my neighbors all had roof damage, I decided to replace the roof. I looked at the whole thing as an investment in selling the house in the future. Never did I foresee that some day I would have to handle this kind of situation.
Another major change coming up is the birth of Melissa and Mark's baby. Back in January when Melissa first told me she was pretty sure she was pregnant, Ed and I talked about how much more often we would travel to Iowa once the baby was born. His wish after retiring was to get back to where most of his kids and grandkids were, and that was why we moved to Columbus. He promised I would see this grandbaby as often as I wanted despite the distance. When we got his diagnosis, we talked about his fighting the cancer so that he could see "our newest grandchild." Ed was going to be "PaPaw," the name his first grandchild bestowed on him. I never had Ed's grandchildren call me "Grandma" but rather "Joni." This new baby, however, means I can't escape being called grandmother, or "Grammy" as I told Melissa and Mark.
So many other things are different about my life now. I hate being in church alone. I tried once to eat out alone but was totally uncomfortable. I have new acquaintances from the support group, but our bond is our sorrow and loneliness--not the way I would prefer to make friends. I'm so conscious of leaning on Melissa and my neighbors, and I try not to overdo that from their perspective. I feel like I have to think in terms of backup plans all the time--for instance, what I'd do if I locked myself out of the car or the house, what I will do if I get sick. The worst change to adjust to is not having anyone to talk with spontaneously and when there is a decision to be made. A handout from a workshop I went to on loneliness asked questions about "Who is your personal team?" It was supposed to be helpful in making me figure out who I can go to for help in a variety of areas both personal and financial, but the questions mostly pointed out to me that it takes at least 10 people to replace that one person that I relied on so much, and even 10 couldn't fill all the roles Ed was to me.
Tomorrow at the support group, we are to bring something that represents what our relationship was like with our loved one. When that was announced, I knew instantly what I would bring: the Ohio State and Penn State mascots and the picture of the cake from our picnic celebrating our wedding. The cake was decorated with "OSU" in red intertwined with "PSU" in blue. It also read, "Eat your heart out. We're married!" That's what our matching T-shirts said, too. Ed always got a laugh from people by telling them we had a "mixed marriage," and I'm sure everyone tomorrow evening will get a kick out of hearing that since they are mostly Buckeyes and they know I'm a Nittany Lion.
All this deep thinking about changes probably suggests I'm pretty much down in the dumps, but really I think I have been doing better for a couple of weeks now. I still cry but not as often and not with such gut-wrenching intensity. I'm sleeping a little better at night, sometimes even straight through for 6 hours. Once in a while, I can look at a picture of Ed and smile. I still feel the loneliness intensely and I miss Ed beyond all words, but I know I'm not the only one going through stuff like this. I guess those are all good things.
Maybe I got to thinking about such things because I sold my car today. I loved my Buick from the first time I saw it and drove it--I especially loved the sun roof. But practicality said that keeping two cars was ridiculous from an expense standpoint, and mine was a 1999 versus Ed's 2006 Buick, so mine was the one to go. It was surprisingly easy to find a buyer--it's a guy from my support group. During one recent meeting we all started talking about our frustrations with so much paperwork involved in settling an estate, not feeling up to dealing with auto service and plumbers and other household things, not knowing what to do with excess cars. I jumped in and said that I had a car that I'd probably be selling, and people started asking me about it. The group facilitator wasn't too happy with the way the discussion was going and told us to take our swap meet to the lobby during the break. I had been putting off going to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles to change the titles on both cars from our two names to just my name. Then, I had motivation to get that done. The guy sitting next to me at group asked me about the car during the break. He looked at it last week before group and brought his daughter to see and drive it on Sunday. He thought my asking price was fair--I showed him the Kelly Blue Book and the NADA values for a private sale. (Undoubtedly, Ed would say I didn't ask enough since the sale went so easily, but he'd say it with a smile.) Then tonight the guy brought me the check, and his daughter drove off with a big smile on her face. So what Melissa referred to as my "old lady car" is now proudly driven by a rather young lady. Ironically, at last week's support group during the break, a woman asked me whether my car was still for sale. Her husband might be interested, she said. So I even had a backup possible sale.
Two weeks ago I had a new roof put on the house. I know some people say not to make major decisions for a year after you lose someone, but since May I have been dealing with the insurance company about probable hail damage to the roof from a storm last fall. All my surrounding neighbors had their roofs replaced, paid for by their insurance companies. In May, Ed wasn't well enough to meet with any contractors, so I did with some help from my next-door neighbor, Bill Morgan. Despite having two go-rounds with two different insurance adjusters, one in May and one in July, and having roofers try to make my case to them as well, State Farm would not budge from the opinion that yes, there was hail damage to all the window screens and the roof ridge vent and the air conditioner fins, but there was no hail damage to the roof shingles. Ed and I had talked about replacing the roof a while ago because there were actually two different shingles up there--the original on the upper roof and a newer shingle on the lower roof as a result of a leak the original owner had, except the lower shingles were a different color. So considering that all the roofers who inspected the roof said the old shingles should be replaced and that my neighbors all had roof damage, I decided to replace the roof. I looked at the whole thing as an investment in selling the house in the future. Never did I foresee that some day I would have to handle this kind of situation.
Another major change coming up is the birth of Melissa and Mark's baby. Back in January when Melissa first told me she was pretty sure she was pregnant, Ed and I talked about how much more often we would travel to Iowa once the baby was born. His wish after retiring was to get back to where most of his kids and grandkids were, and that was why we moved to Columbus. He promised I would see this grandbaby as often as I wanted despite the distance. When we got his diagnosis, we talked about his fighting the cancer so that he could see "our newest grandchild." Ed was going to be "PaPaw," the name his first grandchild bestowed on him. I never had Ed's grandchildren call me "Grandma" but rather "Joni." This new baby, however, means I can't escape being called grandmother, or "Grammy" as I told Melissa and Mark.
So many other things are different about my life now. I hate being in church alone. I tried once to eat out alone but was totally uncomfortable. I have new acquaintances from the support group, but our bond is our sorrow and loneliness--not the way I would prefer to make friends. I'm so conscious of leaning on Melissa and my neighbors, and I try not to overdo that from their perspective. I feel like I have to think in terms of backup plans all the time--for instance, what I'd do if I locked myself out of the car or the house, what I will do if I get sick. The worst change to adjust to is not having anyone to talk with spontaneously and when there is a decision to be made. A handout from a workshop I went to on loneliness asked questions about "Who is your personal team?" It was supposed to be helpful in making me figure out who I can go to for help in a variety of areas both personal and financial, but the questions mostly pointed out to me that it takes at least 10 people to replace that one person that I relied on so much, and even 10 couldn't fill all the roles Ed was to me.
Tomorrow at the support group, we are to bring something that represents what our relationship was like with our loved one. When that was announced, I knew instantly what I would bring: the Ohio State and Penn State mascots and the picture of the cake from our picnic celebrating our wedding. The cake was decorated with "OSU" in red intertwined with "PSU" in blue. It also read, "Eat your heart out. We're married!" That's what our matching T-shirts said, too. Ed always got a laugh from people by telling them we had a "mixed marriage," and I'm sure everyone tomorrow evening will get a kick out of hearing that since they are mostly Buckeyes and they know I'm a Nittany Lion.
All this deep thinking about changes probably suggests I'm pretty much down in the dumps, but really I think I have been doing better for a couple of weeks now. I still cry but not as often and not with such gut-wrenching intensity. I'm sleeping a little better at night, sometimes even straight through for 6 hours. Once in a while, I can look at a picture of Ed and smile. I still feel the loneliness intensely and I miss Ed beyond all words, but I know I'm not the only one going through stuff like this. I guess those are all good things.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
College football season
Today is the start of the Big Ten college football season. As I heard all the hype the last two weeks, I thought that I couldn't bring myself to be interested in college football now. It was such a big deal to Ed, especially Ohio State football, and we literally planned our weekends around the televised games. We made a point of seeing every Ohio State and Penn State game on TV that we could, and since we moved to Columbus, we managed to see both teams in action in person a couple of times each season, both here in Columbus and in State College. Back in Iowa, our Penn State group was like family to us, and I've thought that if I had that closeness, then I could watch and enjoy a game. But I don't have that here.
I didn't really realize how much I was dreading the college football season until it hit me while at my support group Wednesday evening. There's no way to avoid Buckeye fanaticism around here, and I have lost my buffer. Any time I was in Penn State garb, Ed would be wearing Ohio State stuff--except when even he was showing his Penn State pride. I can't bring myself to decorate the living room windows with decals the way I used to, one window Ohio State and the other Penn State. The first year we moved here, that and the Go Bucks sign in the yard caught neighbors' attention as they walked by and usually they would comment. I wonder if anyone will notice the lack of school decor this season.
Neither the Penn State nor Ohio State games are on cable TV here, and I have no desire to go to the bar where the local Penn State alums are supposed to gather to watch via satellite. The place will undoubtedly be filled with Buckeyes because their game is at the same time as Penn State's and will be on most of the TVs at the bar. I guess I will force myself to watch at least some of the games that are on TV and see how it goes. Here's an odd thought: if someone cries over football, it's usually after a big loss, not before a game has started. Guess I'm an exception.
I didn't really realize how much I was dreading the college football season until it hit me while at my support group Wednesday evening. There's no way to avoid Buckeye fanaticism around here, and I have lost my buffer. Any time I was in Penn State garb, Ed would be wearing Ohio State stuff--except when even he was showing his Penn State pride. I can't bring myself to decorate the living room windows with decals the way I used to, one window Ohio State and the other Penn State. The first year we moved here, that and the Go Bucks sign in the yard caught neighbors' attention as they walked by and usually they would comment. I wonder if anyone will notice the lack of school decor this season.
Neither the Penn State nor Ohio State games are on cable TV here, and I have no desire to go to the bar where the local Penn State alums are supposed to gather to watch via satellite. The place will undoubtedly be filled with Buckeyes because their game is at the same time as Penn State's and will be on most of the TVs at the bar. I guess I will force myself to watch at least some of the games that are on TV and see how it goes. Here's an odd thought: if someone cries over football, it's usually after a big loss, not before a game has started. Guess I'm an exception.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Our Anniversary
Today, August 9, is our 21st wedding anniversary. I am writing this from Melissa and Mark's computer because this afternoon I flew to Cedar Rapids. Melissa's baby shower is Saturday, and Friday (tomorrow) I will paint the baby's room. As I planned this trip, I deliberately chose to come to Cedar Rapids today so that I would not be alone the entire day of our anniversary. I figured I would have the morning and part of the afternoon to be alone with my thoughts and memories and tears, to visit the cemetery and take Ed's favorite flower, a red rose, and then be distracted by the travel to get through the rest of the day. All that did happen, but much more happened that caused more tears but also was very comforting.
This morning I had a phone call from my next-door neighbor Sherry who was recently widowed. She is spending 10 days in Florida with a friend and I have been looking after her house while she is gone. I thought she was calling just to see how everything was at her place, but she was also calling to see how I was. She remembered today is our anniversary. I was touched by her call and her concern, and she gave me words of encouragement that meant so much to me because of her own recent loss. Then I checked my e-mail and found a message of comfort and encouragement from Ed's daughter Sherry. Of course I cried even more all the way driving to the cemetery. When I got there, I found the most thoughtful, touching gesture that I never, ever expected. There was a bouquet of 21 beautiful red roses with ferns and baby's breath and a card that read "Thinking of you and Uncle Ed always." It was from Pat, Ed's niece. She knew I would be going to the cemetery, and she hoped finding the roses would be a comfort. I was so taken by this gift that I literally stopped crying. I was just that stunned. I called Pat when I got home, and she told me to think of those roses as coming from Ed because he would want me to have roses on our anniversary. It was just the most beautiful thing anyone could have done for me today. My neighbor Ann, who used to have her own floral business, gave me some special solution to dip the cut stems of the roses in that will help preserve them so they will still be beautiful when I get back Monday.
I had cried so much in the days leading up to today, just because I knew our anniversary was coming. I feel as though I've made it through this day the best I could. I'm determined to focus on the joys of the baby shower this weekend, just as my neighbor Sherry said I should.
I have now been to two support group sessions, called Steps Toward Healing, sponsored by the hospice that helped us. We meet Wednesday evenings for 8 weeks and can attend more sessions if we like. Those meetings seem to help even though only a few of the people have lost spouses; most have lost a parent, a few have lost a sibling. The issues that come up, though, have all been pertinent to me so far. It's helpful to hear how other people are dealing with their grief and loneliness as well as all the necessary things that have to be done to keep living life. I'm hopeful that I am taking the right steps to heal and be the person Ed wants me to be.
This morning I had a phone call from my next-door neighbor Sherry who was recently widowed. She is spending 10 days in Florida with a friend and I have been looking after her house while she is gone. I thought she was calling just to see how everything was at her place, but she was also calling to see how I was. She remembered today is our anniversary. I was touched by her call and her concern, and she gave me words of encouragement that meant so much to me because of her own recent loss. Then I checked my e-mail and found a message of comfort and encouragement from Ed's daughter Sherry. Of course I cried even more all the way driving to the cemetery. When I got there, I found the most thoughtful, touching gesture that I never, ever expected. There was a bouquet of 21 beautiful red roses with ferns and baby's breath and a card that read "Thinking of you and Uncle Ed always." It was from Pat, Ed's niece. She knew I would be going to the cemetery, and she hoped finding the roses would be a comfort. I was so taken by this gift that I literally stopped crying. I was just that stunned. I called Pat when I got home, and she told me to think of those roses as coming from Ed because he would want me to have roses on our anniversary. It was just the most beautiful thing anyone could have done for me today. My neighbor Ann, who used to have her own floral business, gave me some special solution to dip the cut stems of the roses in that will help preserve them so they will still be beautiful when I get back Monday.
I had cried so much in the days leading up to today, just because I knew our anniversary was coming. I feel as though I've made it through this day the best I could. I'm determined to focus on the joys of the baby shower this weekend, just as my neighbor Sherry said I should.
I have now been to two support group sessions, called Steps Toward Healing, sponsored by the hospice that helped us. We meet Wednesday evenings for 8 weeks and can attend more sessions if we like. Those meetings seem to help even though only a few of the people have lost spouses; most have lost a parent, a few have lost a sibling. The issues that come up, though, have all been pertinent to me so far. It's helpful to hear how other people are dealing with their grief and loneliness as well as all the necessary things that have to be done to keep living life. I'm hopeful that I am taking the right steps to heal and be the person Ed wants me to be.
Friday, July 20, 2007
5 weeks tomorrow
I have tried several times since Ed's birthday to write again in the blog. Each time I gave up because I didn't want to depress anybody who might read it. I wish I could say I'm doing well, but too often it doesn't feel that way. I chat with the neighbors and smile, but as soon as I step back inside the house--and sometimes before I make it in the door--the grief becomes overwhelming again. I went to the Getcy family reunion last weekend (my mother's side) and managed not to break down in front of anybody except in the wee hours of the morning in the hotel room Melissa and I shared. Ed didn't go with me to the last Getcy reunion 6 years ago because he had his own Runk family reunion to attend in Ohio on the same day. As I looked around at everybody, I realized that some of my relatives Ed never met in person, yet we looked at pictures together and talked about everyone in both our families so much that we both felt like we knew them all. Gathering with family was his favorite thing to do--even beyond going to an Ohio State football game, and that's saying a lot! So I went to the reunion just as we had planned to go, and I was glad to see everybody. Since getting back, though, I don't have as good a rein on my emotions as I did the past few weeks. I don't like to admit it because I know friends and family who read this will end up worrying about me, and I don't want to cause that worry.
I was just interrupted by the doorbell, and frankly I wasn't going to answer because I know my eyes must look awful right now. But I did force myself to answer, and I just received a delivery of the most beautiful rose bouquet from Tim and Becky Sheehan, cousins of mine (on my Dad's side) in Elmhurst, IL--a "thinking of you" bouquet. While I wrote the paragraph above, I could barely manage to write through my tears and sobs, but these flowers and the note have helped to quiet me, so maybe there's hope for a better rest of the day.
Each day I plan to take care of at least one and sometimes two or three major tasks related to our estate and finances, etc., but every time I think I'm making some headway, something more piles on. For a break each day, I try to do some outdoor activity to take care of the lawn and gardens, but sometimes that just makes me miss Ed even more because those are things we always did together. Yesterday, I found out that an acquaintance, the wife of one of Ed's Household work friends, died on May 21. This friend is a little farther along in handling the grief and loss than I am, so having him say the grief is a little more tolerable for him now is encouraging for me, but having to send him condolences in response to his sending me condolences just does not seem fair.
I guess there is some good news to report: Finally, after all these weeks of going to the chiropractor frequently, my back is in pretty good shape and the residual numbness I have had especially in my left leg has subsided to the point where I can now go back on my once-a-month-checkup chiropractic routine. Also, I made plane reservations to go to Cedar Rapids August 9-13 to attend Melissa's baby shower on August 11, with plans to also paint the baby's room while I'm there. So that is something to look forward to. At least I am able to end this entry on a more positive note and without tears.
I was just interrupted by the doorbell, and frankly I wasn't going to answer because I know my eyes must look awful right now. But I did force myself to answer, and I just received a delivery of the most beautiful rose bouquet from Tim and Becky Sheehan, cousins of mine (on my Dad's side) in Elmhurst, IL--a "thinking of you" bouquet. While I wrote the paragraph above, I could barely manage to write through my tears and sobs, but these flowers and the note have helped to quiet me, so maybe there's hope for a better rest of the day.
Each day I plan to take care of at least one and sometimes two or three major tasks related to our estate and finances, etc., but every time I think I'm making some headway, something more piles on. For a break each day, I try to do some outdoor activity to take care of the lawn and gardens, but sometimes that just makes me miss Ed even more because those are things we always did together. Yesterday, I found out that an acquaintance, the wife of one of Ed's Household work friends, died on May 21. This friend is a little farther along in handling the grief and loss than I am, so having him say the grief is a little more tolerable for him now is encouraging for me, but having to send him condolences in response to his sending me condolences just does not seem fair.
I guess there is some good news to report: Finally, after all these weeks of going to the chiropractor frequently, my back is in pretty good shape and the residual numbness I have had especially in my left leg has subsided to the point where I can now go back on my once-a-month-checkup chiropractic routine. Also, I made plane reservations to go to Cedar Rapids August 9-13 to attend Melissa's baby shower on August 11, with plans to also paint the baby's room while I'm there. So that is something to look forward to. At least I am able to end this entry on a more positive note and without tears.
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