She's updating her blog "at a time like this?" Yeah, why not. It's really been "a time like this" for a long time, and today doesn't really feel all that different from the previous weeks and months - except that I am suddenly free of the daily trek to a hospital or nursing home that I'd been making since, what, late April? My husband really was "gone" several weeks ago, when the brain mets did their dirty work on his brain function - I've been "missing him" for many weeks, even while sitting with him daily.


Which leads me to Catherine's Rant du Jour - "DON'T TELL ME HOW TO GRIEVE!" I wish I had a dollar for every smarmy dumbshit who has said, "Oh, just wait, this will probably really hit you later." I feel like some people are just standing around watching me like a damn lab experiment, waiting to see when I'll "crack." Because I'm obviously "in denial" or "repressing" or some other pop psych crap they got off Oprah and a Psych 101 class. They just don't get it - where the hell were they for the past two years? "This" has been "hitting me" over and over, in various ways, for a long, long time. Yesterday was terribly sad and painful, and yet I'd be lying if I didn't say I also feel a sense of release and relief this morning. The past two and a half months have been absolutely nightmarish, a grotesque ending to a two year hell. It was absolute, grinding, draining torture to go sit with him in that nursing home every day, and watch the big, strong, handsome man I knew turn into a tiny, emaciated, twisted, brain-damaged body who rarely responded or recognized me.


At this moment, I am terribly sad and still looking forward to the future, and rebuilding a life that doesn't revolve around cancer caregiving. The most intelligent thing said to me in recent weeks was a comment from a hospice nurse who said "You've been grieving him all along, you're much further along in the grief process than people can understand." It's true. I've described it to friends this way: I feel like I've been a soldier in the Cancer Army for two years, fighting an ugly, dirty war. My world totally revolved around patient care and meds and doctors and treatments and tests. It consumed every resource we had, every minute of every day, and I learned more nasty medical shit than I ever imagined knowing in this lifetime, and learned to do things I never imagined doing - I never even played nurse as a child, for God's sake! And I did it all while knowing (because I did extensive research) that short of an absolute miracle, we were never going to win the war. I kept that knowledge to myself, because I never wanted to rob my husband of the hope that kept him going for so long (though he was a very smart guy, so I'm sure he really knew) - but I have known that I had to be prepared to face this day, because its coming was virtually inevitable. I sometimes feel like I've forgotten life Before Cancer, and it will take some time and mental effort to come in from that life of dirty, brutal, and futile warfare and adjust to the normal world again. But I'm looking forward to NOT being in that army.


It's so inappropriate to say "Happy Birthday" today, but today is Sorority Girl's 20th birthday. I could not be more proud of her, she is an absolutely outstanding young woman, very smart, self-confident and funny, and tall and beautiful to boot (and that's not just a proud mother talking). Her father's cancer was discovered a mere three weeks after her high school graduation, and she had to become an instant adult at 18 - she effectively lost both parents the day of his diagnosis, because I've been largely unavailable to be there with her or support her through her first two years of college. A lot of lesser souls would have cracked under the pressure, dropped out or flunked out, but she dug in and persevered, fighting on her own front in the Cancer War - making her father proud of her. She has had to shoulder a lot of heavy adult burdens during what should be a "carefree" time of her life, and she still manages to make the Dean's List, hold down a job, and never miss a good party. She'll be driving home today - her brother arrived in town last night. He is also an amazing young man, but I won't brag about him on his sister's birthday, it'll keep until HIS birthday.


Thank you for all your words of sympathy and support.