Today is Ed's birthday. I just heard some firecrackers go off in the neighborhood, and I am reminded that he used to claim any fireworks shot off on July 3 were a celebration of his birthday, not Independence Day.
Mass this morning at our church was for Ed and I attended, of course, since I arranged for the Mass intention. I took a dozen red roses to the cemetery afterwards. Things have been pretty quiet through the rest of my day today. I opted not to go to tonight's big Columbus fireworks display "Red, White, and Boom." Although I appreciated being there last year with Debbie and Tom and family, I just didn't have the desire to go this year. Watching them on TV will be good enough.
I guess I don't have much to say tonight. I miss Ed terribly, not just on his birthday but every day.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
One year
How can it have been a whole year since Ed's death? There have been so many times that it seems like he's just away on yet another business trip and will be coming home soon. Then reality kicks in, and my heart hurts.
My friends who already had their first anniversaries told me that the days leading up to the date were worse than the anniversary date itself. That proved true for me, too. Try as I may to focus on good memories, Ed's last weeks kept taking over my thoughts. My worst day was Saturday rather than yesterday. Perhaps that was because Ed died on Saturday, June 16 last year, the day before Father's Day. One comfort I did have on Saturday was that Melissa had asked me several weeks ago to place three red roses at his grave for Father's Day, one each from her, Mark, and Will. The florist was apologetic that she was out of baby's breath to put with them and supplied some purple-flowered stems, whose name I can't recall, instead of baby's breath along with some greenery. Little did she know how appropriate I thought the purple was--a remembrance of Norwalk city and school colors and of Melissa and Mark's wedding accent color. Then yesterday afternoon I added a rose from our rose bush to the arrangement.
Also on Saturday, I went to 5:00 Mass because Sherry had arranged for it to be in remembrance of her father; that was her Father's Day gift to Ed. Back when she did this, we both asked the woman at church who handles the Mass intentions to somehow assure that "Giesman" would be pronounced correctly. When I saw that the lector who would read the Prayer of the Faithful was a high school boy, I figured he would mispronounce it. But he said it perfectly--and that got to me instantly. It's difficult to camouflage tears streaming down your face when you're out in public, and it took me several minutes to compose myself. I was on the verge of a hard cry the entire rest of the Mass and barely made it into the car before I let it come.
A major distraction since Thursday of last week was the historic flooding in Cedar Rapids. Although their home in Fairfax, a few miles outside of Cedar Rapids, was fine and they never lost electricity or water or phone service, Melissa and Mark's work was affected because of the extreme street flooding which severely inhibited getting around and actual flooding in buildings. Melissa's work, Tanager Place Clinic, was shut down, and Mark's job in Marketing at Mercy Hospital turned into a very different role for him as part of the Emergency Management Team, especially since the hospital was evacuated. Melissa called me numerous times with updates or asking for advice on how to prepare for possible loss of power. I watched The Weather Channel a lot because they had extensive coverage of the situation. There were frequent comparisons in the news to the flooding in 1993; this flooding, however, is much worse. In 1993, we were living in Norwalk, IA, but the flooding in July then wiped out the water plant in Des Moines which provided our water, so we spent two weeks without running water. Ed missed out on some of this because he was in California on business.
My other distraction is that I'm working on SAT essays from the June test administration. I am having difficulty focusing at times, and I'm sure a computer somewhere at Pearson is tracking the fact that sometimes I've spent only 10 minutes working before taking yet another break. Yesterday I did put in a few hours total, but at midday my neighbors, Sherry Statczar and Ann Morgan, insisted on taking me to lunch--although with the largest and most comfortable car among us, I did the driving. When Sherry suggested this, I really did not want to go because I thought I just wanted to be alone for the day. But I know she wanted to do something nice for me and I didn't want to offend her, so I went. It was a pleasant time and the food was tasty, so I guess it was good "lunch therapy."
I had several e-mails in recent days and especially on Monday from Melissa, daughter Becky, niece Pat, several of my cousins, and from my support group friends, all letting me know how much they care about me. I also had a call from my sister, Marie, and one from daughter Sherry last evening. I really appreciate them all. As Ed would often say, even when we understood his diagnosis, "It is what it is." So the first anniversary is over, and my heart still hurts, but I keep putting one foot in front of the other to go on.
I have been writing this entry since 5:00 am when I woke up. I didn't think it would be so hard to compose it. Here's hoping I do a better job of focusing on those SAT essays today.
My friends who already had their first anniversaries told me that the days leading up to the date were worse than the anniversary date itself. That proved true for me, too. Try as I may to focus on good memories, Ed's last weeks kept taking over my thoughts. My worst day was Saturday rather than yesterday. Perhaps that was because Ed died on Saturday, June 16 last year, the day before Father's Day. One comfort I did have on Saturday was that Melissa had asked me several weeks ago to place three red roses at his grave for Father's Day, one each from her, Mark, and Will. The florist was apologetic that she was out of baby's breath to put with them and supplied some purple-flowered stems, whose name I can't recall, instead of baby's breath along with some greenery. Little did she know how appropriate I thought the purple was--a remembrance of Norwalk city and school colors and of Melissa and Mark's wedding accent color. Then yesterday afternoon I added a rose from our rose bush to the arrangement.
Also on Saturday, I went to 5:00 Mass because Sherry had arranged for it to be in remembrance of her father; that was her Father's Day gift to Ed. Back when she did this, we both asked the woman at church who handles the Mass intentions to somehow assure that "Giesman" would be pronounced correctly. When I saw that the lector who would read the Prayer of the Faithful was a high school boy, I figured he would mispronounce it. But he said it perfectly--and that got to me instantly. It's difficult to camouflage tears streaming down your face when you're out in public, and it took me several minutes to compose myself. I was on the verge of a hard cry the entire rest of the Mass and barely made it into the car before I let it come.
A major distraction since Thursday of last week was the historic flooding in Cedar Rapids. Although their home in Fairfax, a few miles outside of Cedar Rapids, was fine and they never lost electricity or water or phone service, Melissa and Mark's work was affected because of the extreme street flooding which severely inhibited getting around and actual flooding in buildings. Melissa's work, Tanager Place Clinic, was shut down, and Mark's job in Marketing at Mercy Hospital turned into a very different role for him as part of the Emergency Management Team, especially since the hospital was evacuated. Melissa called me numerous times with updates or asking for advice on how to prepare for possible loss of power. I watched The Weather Channel a lot because they had extensive coverage of the situation. There were frequent comparisons in the news to the flooding in 1993; this flooding, however, is much worse. In 1993, we were living in Norwalk, IA, but the flooding in July then wiped out the water plant in Des Moines which provided our water, so we spent two weeks without running water. Ed missed out on some of this because he was in California on business.
My other distraction is that I'm working on SAT essays from the June test administration. I am having difficulty focusing at times, and I'm sure a computer somewhere at Pearson is tracking the fact that sometimes I've spent only 10 minutes working before taking yet another break. Yesterday I did put in a few hours total, but at midday my neighbors, Sherry Statczar and Ann Morgan, insisted on taking me to lunch--although with the largest and most comfortable car among us, I did the driving. When Sherry suggested this, I really did not want to go because I thought I just wanted to be alone for the day. But I know she wanted to do something nice for me and I didn't want to offend her, so I went. It was a pleasant time and the food was tasty, so I guess it was good "lunch therapy."
I had several e-mails in recent days and especially on Monday from Melissa, daughter Becky, niece Pat, several of my cousins, and from my support group friends, all letting me know how much they care about me. I also had a call from my sister, Marie, and one from daughter Sherry last evening. I really appreciate them all. As Ed would often say, even when we understood his diagnosis, "It is what it is." So the first anniversary is over, and my heart still hurts, but I keep putting one foot in front of the other to go on.
I have been writing this entry since 5:00 am when I woke up. I didn't think it would be so hard to compose it. Here's hoping I do a better job of focusing on those SAT essays today.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Post-surgery update
I deliberately waited until after my follow-up visit to the surgeon to update the blog. Yes, I said surgeon. On Friday, April 25, I had my gallbladder removed. It was done with laproscopic surgery, which means it was outpatient surgery; I had 4 very small incisions to accommodate the instruments and a very quick recovery time compared with the more traditional surgery. The whole process of being admitted 1 1/2 hours before surgery time (which ended up starting an hour late) to coming out of the anesthetic took about 6 hours. Becky was my "babysitter." She took me to the hospital, waited, brought me home, stayed with me up until 24 hours past surgery time. I had no reaction to the anesthetic, very little pain afterwards, and by Thursday of last week I was out mowing already (even though neighbor Bill Morgan pestered me about doing that). The days in between the surgery and resuming normal activity I spent mostly in the recliner (shades of Ed around this time last year--that weighed on my mind heavily). From right after surgery, I began to eat normally and I have not had any problems with that. So overall, even though I had high anxiety beforehand, the surgery went very well, and the surgeon didn't even yell at me at the follow-up appointment for driving and doing things sooner than the discharge instructions said I should. I'm still not supposed to lift more than 10 pounds for another 4 weeks or so, but that's to prevent the possibility of a hernia developing in the area of the "poke hole" at my belly button. I can't do my morning stretches and crunches yet either, but I am supposed to get back to walking every day. I confess that so far, my walking has mainly been behind the lawn mower.
My last support group meeting was the Wednesday before the surgery. I along with about 10 others from my group of new friends have decided to "graduate." However, we also want to continue getting together as friends and have already laid the groundwork for doing that on a regular basis. Sixteen of us had a pot luck and lots of laughs and conversation last evening. We'll do it again next week, and next Saturday we'll spend the day at one friend's horse farm. I'm counting on this to continue because I have come to really cherish these people. It's a lot like the closeness Ed and I felt with our Lakewood/Norwalk/Iowa friends--they're more like family, very caring and ready to help each other if needed. In fact, one friend brought me supper on Sunday after my surgery, and numerous others offered to be with me for and after the surgery and to drive me around until I could drive. Our support group counselors reminded us that we can come back to the large group anytime for "booster shots." It's comforting to know that option is always there. Now, if I could just figure out how to stay asleep through the night, I wouldn't be up writing in the blog in the wee hours!
My last support group meeting was the Wednesday before the surgery. I along with about 10 others from my group of new friends have decided to "graduate." However, we also want to continue getting together as friends and have already laid the groundwork for doing that on a regular basis. Sixteen of us had a pot luck and lots of laughs and conversation last evening. We'll do it again next week, and next Saturday we'll spend the day at one friend's horse farm. I'm counting on this to continue because I have come to really cherish these people. It's a lot like the closeness Ed and I felt with our Lakewood/Norwalk/Iowa friends--they're more like family, very caring and ready to help each other if needed. In fact, one friend brought me supper on Sunday after my surgery, and numerous others offered to be with me for and after the surgery and to drive me around until I could drive. Our support group counselors reminded us that we can come back to the large group anytime for "booster shots." It's comforting to know that option is always there. Now, if I could just figure out how to stay asleep through the night, I wouldn't be up writing in the blog in the wee hours!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
A good visit and lots of visitors
Melissa, Mark, and Will arrived Thursday night, April 3, after a nine-hour drive from Iowa. Will did really well traveling, so they only stopped twice. I thought he did really well the entire visit except for refusing to take naps now and then. Too much going on that was new, I guess.
On Friday we lunched at Cheeseburger in Paradise, someplace M & M had never been, and while we were there in walked grandson Josh and his girlfriend Honesty. I think my calling out to him startled him, but I was glad to see the two of them and have them see Will (and Melissa and Mark, of course). Friday evening granddaughter Heather, Jeff, Payton, Madison, and Lillian came for a visit. The two sets of young parents compared notes and passed the baby around while I enjoyed playing with the three girls.
Neighbors Ann and Bill and Sherry all stopped by during the weekend, too. Everybody loves to meet and hold a baby. The weather was sunny and pleasant on Saturday, so Melissa and I strolled Will to the park, his first experience with that kind of setting. He is so fascinated by everything around him--that is, when he isn't focused on gnawing away at whatever he can get to his mouth. We also went to the cemetery where Melissa, Mark, and Will placed three red roses in the vase at Ed's marker.
Sunday was the big day for visitors. Will was very good in church but would not go to sleep afterwards. David, Sadie and Grayton arrived around 2:30, and Debbie, Tom and Annie shortly thereafter. As tired as he was, Will just wouldn't miss out on seeing new people and settled right into being passed around the various laps. Starting at 4:00 everyone else arrived--Becky and family, Ed and his two sons, grandson Rob and his fiance Colleen, and Judi. It was such a beautiful afternoon that I grilled some marinated chicken tenders to go with the rest of the spread. It was so good for my soul to have Melissa, Mark, and the baby here, get this meal together, and see everyone enjoying the food and conversation. This was the first time we were all together in this house since Ed's funeral. I've wanted everybody together here for so long and I knew Ed would want that. Having space to have everyone together was the primary reason we chose this house. So even though it probably sounds a little selfish--especially because I know it was hard for a few people to be here without Ed--I'm very glad it finally happened after so long.
Monday morning we went back to the cemetery; the roses were open and beautiful. I knew seeing Ed's marker and gravesite would be emotional for Melissa, but I'm grateful that she wanted to go visit the grave. I go often and my neighbor Bill has said he visits there occasionally, but I don't know if anyone else does. After that visit, M & M and Will left for home. It took a little longer to get back because Will was not a happy traveler this time, but Melissa reported that once he was free to roll all over the place on the floor at home, he was happy and even got up on all fours. He was showing signs here that he is getting ready to crawl--he "scooched" a little getting after some toys (is that how you spell that word?).
I told the support group last night that I had a really good week since last Wednesday. I thought having an empty house again would affect me immediately on Monday, and it did, but not as much as I anticipated. Perhaps it was because Monday evening I had a nutrition workshop to go to and knew I would see friends from the group there. After the workshop, three of us had one of those enjoyable parking-lot conversations that wanders all over the place--any excuse to be out in the pleasant night air for a bit with friendly people. Tuesday I picked up the tax returns, and even that didn't dampen my mood since the results weren't too bad. But now here I am, up since 4 a.m. and crying. I don't remember having a dream that triggered this, so I guess I haven't kicked that feeling-lonely and trouble-sleeping thing yet.
On Friday we lunched at Cheeseburger in Paradise, someplace M & M had never been, and while we were there in walked grandson Josh and his girlfriend Honesty. I think my calling out to him startled him, but I was glad to see the two of them and have them see Will (and Melissa and Mark, of course). Friday evening granddaughter Heather, Jeff, Payton, Madison, and Lillian came for a visit. The two sets of young parents compared notes and passed the baby around while I enjoyed playing with the three girls.
Neighbors Ann and Bill and Sherry all stopped by during the weekend, too. Everybody loves to meet and hold a baby. The weather was sunny and pleasant on Saturday, so Melissa and I strolled Will to the park, his first experience with that kind of setting. He is so fascinated by everything around him--that is, when he isn't focused on gnawing away at whatever he can get to his mouth. We also went to the cemetery where Melissa, Mark, and Will placed three red roses in the vase at Ed's marker.
Sunday was the big day for visitors. Will was very good in church but would not go to sleep afterwards. David, Sadie and Grayton arrived around 2:30, and Debbie, Tom and Annie shortly thereafter. As tired as he was, Will just wouldn't miss out on seeing new people and settled right into being passed around the various laps. Starting at 4:00 everyone else arrived--Becky and family, Ed and his two sons, grandson Rob and his fiance Colleen, and Judi. It was such a beautiful afternoon that I grilled some marinated chicken tenders to go with the rest of the spread. It was so good for my soul to have Melissa, Mark, and the baby here, get this meal together, and see everyone enjoying the food and conversation. This was the first time we were all together in this house since Ed's funeral. I've wanted everybody together here for so long and I knew Ed would want that. Having space to have everyone together was the primary reason we chose this house. So even though it probably sounds a little selfish--especially because I know it was hard for a few people to be here without Ed--I'm very glad it finally happened after so long.
Monday morning we went back to the cemetery; the roses were open and beautiful. I knew seeing Ed's marker and gravesite would be emotional for Melissa, but I'm grateful that she wanted to go visit the grave. I go often and my neighbor Bill has said he visits there occasionally, but I don't know if anyone else does. After that visit, M & M and Will left for home. It took a little longer to get back because Will was not a happy traveler this time, but Melissa reported that once he was free to roll all over the place on the floor at home, he was happy and even got up on all fours. He was showing signs here that he is getting ready to crawl--he "scooched" a little getting after some toys (is that how you spell that word?).
I told the support group last night that I had a really good week since last Wednesday. I thought having an empty house again would affect me immediately on Monday, and it did, but not as much as I anticipated. Perhaps it was because Monday evening I had a nutrition workshop to go to and knew I would see friends from the group there. After the workshop, three of us had one of those enjoyable parking-lot conversations that wanders all over the place--any excuse to be out in the pleasant night air for a bit with friendly people. Tuesday I picked up the tax returns, and even that didn't dampen my mood since the results weren't too bad. But now here I am, up since 4 a.m. and crying. I don't remember having a dream that triggered this, so I guess I haven't kicked that feeling-lonely and trouble-sleeping thing yet.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Unexpectedly hospitalized
Never did I think I would spend Easter Sunday in the hospital. I was awakened around midnight by a pain in the middle of my chest. To say I was scared is an understatement. As the pain intensified and felt like a tightening, I immediately thought I was having a heart attack and took some aspirin, wondering if I should call someone to come help me or dial 9-1-1. But then the pain radiated around my right side and up my back beside my right shoulder blade. Although it may have been foolish, I got online to look up signs of a heart attack in women because I remember reading that women may experience different symptoms than men do. I couldn't completely relate what I found to what I was experiencing, plus the aspirin seemed to help the pain subside a little and I was moving about the house OK despite the pain. But then it turned into a burning pain, so I went looking in the cabinet for something for heartburn (I've never had heartburn that I know of, so I don't know what it feels like). I chewed a Pepcid Complete, but it did nothing. The pain intensified more, so I called 9-1-1. Right after I hung up the phone, I felt nauseous and brought the Pepcid right back up. I knew nausea could be associated with a heart attack and prepared to go to the hospital, hoping I hadn't been foolish in delaying my call for help. I unlocked the front door, got dressed, gathered my purse and coat, and the paramedics arrived. They first did an EKG right in the living room and it showed no problem. By then the pain was subsiding again. They nevertheless wanted to take me in to be checked out and I agreed.
I had another EKG at the hospital and blood work to check for the tell-tale enzyme of a heart problem, but nothing showed up. Still, I was told I'd be admitted for observation and monitoring for 24 hours with continued blood draws and my wearing a heart monitor. However, other enzymes from the liver and pancreas showed slightly elevated levels, and that combined with my description of the pain and the fact that I got really sick to my stomach in the ER led the doctors to suspect stones in my gallbladder, one of which must have blocked a duct for about 1 1/2 hours and caused the pain--and an ultrasound showed that to be the case. So in addition to monitoring my heart, after I was admitted I had another, more thorough ultrasound. By mid-day, the internist who was assigned to me determined that there was no heart problem (other than my right bundle block which I've known about for a few years and which causes no problems and requires no treatment). He discontinued the IV and cancelled the rest of the blood draws, though I still had to wear the heart monitor. However, he called in a surgeon for a consult and they both studied my second ultrasound. They concluded that I was not in any danger from anything connected with the stones in my gallbladder and said I could go home. Some people have gallstones all their lives and never have a problem; they stay "silent." However, the internist recommended I have my gall bladder removed because once someone has an attack, more attacks are likely. The surgeon explained the procedure to me and recommended giving myself 2 weeks to settle back down, then see him in his office to discuss the surgery further and set a date for it sometime in the next 6 weeks. So I will discuss this with my own internist, but that's what I'm planning to do.
Getting out of the hospital was a fiasco. I won't go into all the details, but there were problems in communication among the doctors and nurses. No one signed my discharge paperwork; because all the monitoring orders were cancelled, my nurse just pretty much ignored me and then went home with the notation on my chart still saying that I was to be kept overnight. My complaints did get some attention from the night shift nurse, and after she made a bunch of calls and figured out how to discharge me electronically, I finally was disconnected from the heart monitor and allowed to leave. Debbie picked me up, and I got back in the house at about 10:15 pm, roughly 8 hours after I had been told I could go home.
Instead of writing about having Easter dinner at Becky and Tim's house--which obviously didn't happen for me--I can now tell you a lot about how the gallbladder functions and what happens in the body once it is removed. This was all quite an education for me from both the medical perspective and a more personal one. Once again I am reminded that I need to anticipate, pre-plan, keep medical and other information in order and accessible, and be sure to have a support system in place for emergencies and other times I will need help. It's quite a lesson.
I had another EKG at the hospital and blood work to check for the tell-tale enzyme of a heart problem, but nothing showed up. Still, I was told I'd be admitted for observation and monitoring for 24 hours with continued blood draws and my wearing a heart monitor. However, other enzymes from the liver and pancreas showed slightly elevated levels, and that combined with my description of the pain and the fact that I got really sick to my stomach in the ER led the doctors to suspect stones in my gallbladder, one of which must have blocked a duct for about 1 1/2 hours and caused the pain--and an ultrasound showed that to be the case. So in addition to monitoring my heart, after I was admitted I had another, more thorough ultrasound. By mid-day, the internist who was assigned to me determined that there was no heart problem (other than my right bundle block which I've known about for a few years and which causes no problems and requires no treatment). He discontinued the IV and cancelled the rest of the blood draws, though I still had to wear the heart monitor. However, he called in a surgeon for a consult and they both studied my second ultrasound. They concluded that I was not in any danger from anything connected with the stones in my gallbladder and said I could go home. Some people have gallstones all their lives and never have a problem; they stay "silent." However, the internist recommended I have my gall bladder removed because once someone has an attack, more attacks are likely. The surgeon explained the procedure to me and recommended giving myself 2 weeks to settle back down, then see him in his office to discuss the surgery further and set a date for it sometime in the next 6 weeks. So I will discuss this with my own internist, but that's what I'm planning to do.
Getting out of the hospital was a fiasco. I won't go into all the details, but there were problems in communication among the doctors and nurses. No one signed my discharge paperwork; because all the monitoring orders were cancelled, my nurse just pretty much ignored me and then went home with the notation on my chart still saying that I was to be kept overnight. My complaints did get some attention from the night shift nurse, and after she made a bunch of calls and figured out how to discharge me electronically, I finally was disconnected from the heart monitor and allowed to leave. Debbie picked me up, and I got back in the house at about 10:15 pm, roughly 8 hours after I had been told I could go home.
Instead of writing about having Easter dinner at Becky and Tim's house--which obviously didn't happen for me--I can now tell you a lot about how the gallbladder functions and what happens in the body once it is removed. This was all quite an education for me from both the medical perspective and a more personal one. Once again I am reminded that I need to anticipate, pre-plan, keep medical and other information in order and accessible, and be sure to have a support system in place for emergencies and other times I will need help. It's quite a lesson.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
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.
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.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Will's Baptism
It has taken me a while to get to writing about Will's baptism. January 20 was the date, held at St. Jude's church in Cedar Rapids after the 11 a.m. Mass. Melissa waited until after Mass to dress Will in his white knit outfit. He looks so good in white (no bias there, of course). The godparents were Melissa's good friend Jill King (now Versteeg) and Mark's brother Matt Wehr, the maid of honor and best man from Melissa and Mark's wedding. There were two other babies being baptized also, which disappointed Melissa a little because she wanted this to be a special occasion focused on Will. Of the three babies, Will had the most traditional name, William James. He was fascinated, I think, by most of the ceremony, crying only a very little towards the end--probably because he was getting hungry. Will loves his bath, so having water poured over his head was no problem. The priest got a little heavy-handed with the holy chrism, smearing it all over Will's head. A couple of us joked that maybe it would cure Will's "cradle cap" dry skin problem.
Afterwards, our group went back to the house for a very nice luncheon together. Besides Melissa, Mark, Will, and me, there were Mark's parents Jim and Marna, Melissa's Dad Jim and Peggy, Jill and her husband Todd, Matt, and Mark's sister Michelle. Although my mother and sister would have liked to be there, the weather and my Mom's health were issues. That weekend, Cedar Rapids had actual temperatures below zero and a high on that Sunday of only 4 degrees. Marie had decided well before the date that Cedar Rapids in January was likely to be too cold for her liking and, moreso, too hard on our mother. Having to change planes at O'Hare is always anybody's guess as to whether or not there will be a jetway to and from the planes--and my Mom would never be able to handle those tiny steps of a regional jet nor be able to walk any distance within the airport. Melissa had Todd record the baptism, so Great-Grandma and Great Aunt Marie (she always knew she was a "great" aunt) and family can at least watch a DVD of the event.
Normally, I would have slipped right into the role of hostess at the house and been the clean-up person, but this time, others had to get the food out and do the cleaning afterwards. On Saturday evening while getting up from playing with Will on the floor, I reached to pick him up and twisted the wrong way. I should have immediately put ice on my back and quit doing things for the rest of the night, but there were still things to be done to be ready for the luncheon, so I kept at them. Big mistake. During the night I was in horrendous pain, and I knew I had a severe muscle spasm in the same spot as when I hurt my back taking care of Ed. I was in pain, despite lots of Advil and alternating ice and heat, all day and night Sunday and Monday. On Tuesday, Melissa dropped me off at the airport at 8 a.m., and I suffered my way through the flying. Of course, that happened to be the day that O'Hare shut down for several hours--the weather was cold but sunny and no one could tell me the reason for the shut down. That meant my flight out of Cedar Rapids was cancelled, the next flight I was on sat on the runway for two hours, my connection to Columbus was nowhere to be found on the board at O'Hare, and the next flight I was put on was delayed for 5 hours. I finally pulled into my garage at exactly midnight. Sitting on those planes and having to walk back and forth from B concourse to C concourse at O'Hare a couple of times because of gate changes was not exactly what my back needed, to say the least. Pity the people who had to sit near me; they were treated to the menthol smell of Icy Hot that I was rubbing on my back every hour (yes, it does come in a small enough tube that is permitted to be carried onboard a plane).
My back is partly the reason I haven't written in the blog. Sitting at the computer--in fact sitting anywhere--has not been the most comfortable position for me since I got back home. It has taken over a week to get that muscle spasm worked out. It wasn't as severe as when I hurt myself in May, but it still is giving me a little bit of a problem. Of course, having this happen is one of those triggers that bring back painful memories of what Ed was going through at the time. I haven't exactly been the cheeriest person these days. I haven't had to ask anybody to come help me because of my back, but the prospect looms that something could happen to me when I would need help, and it scares me to think I might be in a situation where I can't get to a phone. Guess I need to pay more attention to those Medic Alert ads.
So I'm having many roller coaster days lately, sometimes finding things to smile about and then not so much. I'm back to grading SAT essays until February 12, so that will keep me occupied for a while. With the cold weather keeping people indoors and my neighbors the Morgans being gone for January and February to a warmer climate, I don't have a whole lot of human, face-to-face contact right now. That really emphasizes the feelings of loneliness and missing Ed so much. Once again, thank goodness for the weekly support group.
Afterwards, our group went back to the house for a very nice luncheon together. Besides Melissa, Mark, Will, and me, there were Mark's parents Jim and Marna, Melissa's Dad Jim and Peggy, Jill and her husband Todd, Matt, and Mark's sister Michelle. Although my mother and sister would have liked to be there, the weather and my Mom's health were issues. That weekend, Cedar Rapids had actual temperatures below zero and a high on that Sunday of only 4 degrees. Marie had decided well before the date that Cedar Rapids in January was likely to be too cold for her liking and, moreso, too hard on our mother. Having to change planes at O'Hare is always anybody's guess as to whether or not there will be a jetway to and from the planes--and my Mom would never be able to handle those tiny steps of a regional jet nor be able to walk any distance within the airport. Melissa had Todd record the baptism, so Great-Grandma and Great Aunt Marie (she always knew she was a "great" aunt) and family can at least watch a DVD of the event.
Normally, I would have slipped right into the role of hostess at the house and been the clean-up person, but this time, others had to get the food out and do the cleaning afterwards. On Saturday evening while getting up from playing with Will on the floor, I reached to pick him up and twisted the wrong way. I should have immediately put ice on my back and quit doing things for the rest of the night, but there were still things to be done to be ready for the luncheon, so I kept at them. Big mistake. During the night I was in horrendous pain, and I knew I had a severe muscle spasm in the same spot as when I hurt my back taking care of Ed. I was in pain, despite lots of Advil and alternating ice and heat, all day and night Sunday and Monday. On Tuesday, Melissa dropped me off at the airport at 8 a.m., and I suffered my way through the flying. Of course, that happened to be the day that O'Hare shut down for several hours--the weather was cold but sunny and no one could tell me the reason for the shut down. That meant my flight out of Cedar Rapids was cancelled, the next flight I was on sat on the runway for two hours, my connection to Columbus was nowhere to be found on the board at O'Hare, and the next flight I was put on was delayed for 5 hours. I finally pulled into my garage at exactly midnight. Sitting on those planes and having to walk back and forth from B concourse to C concourse at O'Hare a couple of times because of gate changes was not exactly what my back needed, to say the least. Pity the people who had to sit near me; they were treated to the menthol smell of Icy Hot that I was rubbing on my back every hour (yes, it does come in a small enough tube that is permitted to be carried onboard a plane).
My back is partly the reason I haven't written in the blog. Sitting at the computer--in fact sitting anywhere--has not been the most comfortable position for me since I got back home. It has taken over a week to get that muscle spasm worked out. It wasn't as severe as when I hurt myself in May, but it still is giving me a little bit of a problem. Of course, having this happen is one of those triggers that bring back painful memories of what Ed was going through at the time. I haven't exactly been the cheeriest person these days. I haven't had to ask anybody to come help me because of my back, but the prospect looms that something could happen to me when I would need help, and it scares me to think I might be in a situation where I can't get to a phone. Guess I need to pay more attention to those Medic Alert ads.
So I'm having many roller coaster days lately, sometimes finding things to smile about and then not so much. I'm back to grading SAT essays until February 12, so that will keep me occupied for a while. With the cold weather keeping people indoors and my neighbors the Morgans being gone for January and February to a warmer climate, I don't have a whole lot of human, face-to-face contact right now. That really emphasizes the feelings of loneliness and missing Ed so much. Once again, thank goodness for the weekly support group.
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