A member of my family is dealing with metastatic cancer, stage 4. Chemo had to be halted as she deals with a systemic infection.
I look at her precarious situation, and somehow it seems shocking because she is someone I know. Because she is a contemporary. Because we're still dealing with the ramifications of Tim's cancer. It's starting to sort out, but it has been a huge jolt in our marriage. Today we came home from the new house. We weren't doing a lot of talking. A lot of thinking though.
I read Tim a text from my sister. I said, "It's just such a shocking thing."
Tim said, "I know it. To think you needed to have your gall bladder out and then find out all of this..."
I said, "Yeah..."
I said, "Do you ever think about it? I do sometimes. I mean, someone is going to go first."
He didn't answer.
It's morbid, I know, and I feel an idiot, but it is where my head is at.
But we cannot know the future, and I suppose that's a good thing.
It's cold here today. After a high of 54 degrees, it is now 39. It is definitely fall. I discovered that when we are at the new house, we can hear the wind as it rushes past the house. For whatever reason, we don't hear that sound here in town, but we did when we lived in the woods, and I loved that sound...because it reminded a middle aged mother of being a child, laying snug and warm in my bed and listening to the wind howl during a winter storm.
The years have flown by. I am a gray haired grandma now. The wind blows just as it always has, and for a moment, I allow myself to go back to a time when I was young enough that dying had not yet occurred to me.
Goodness, what a state of mind! I shiver, and it is not from the cold.
I grab the cat food, and the milk from the fridge and head down to the garage to feed the kittens. They are glad to see me and hungry, and dart around excitedly while I mix up their food. I give them an extra can of cat food, grateful to be able to do some small kindness in this cold season.
This evening, I found another Christmas gift and placed my order. Winter is cold, but it does have its comforts.
My favorite sound is rain on the roof when I am laying in bed, rolled up in blankets, thankful to be warm and dry. I feel like I am camping and the tent is dry. It is a freeing feeling.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry about your family member. I pray for comfort and healing. Things like this make you think about things you don't want to think about.
Right now, we're in a three story house, so I don't hear that, either. The new house has a tin roof, so I imagine I'll have that luxury as well.
DeleteMorbid thoughts, maybe, but I know what you are talking about.
ReplyDeleteAutumn has arrived here with a cold flurry of sharp winds and clear skies. Leaves cover the whole garden and crunch underfoot. Winter is not far behind.
It is not. But, winter is the time that I don't feel guilty about staying close to home. And of course, there are holidays.
DeleteI am sorry you're going through this. It's a feeling of helplessness. We're no longer any good at dealing with mortality.
ReplyDeleteUsually I'm a bit more practical about it. This struck rather close to home, and on the heels of our own bump in the road.
DeleteHaving survived cancer, and watched two family members struggle and lose their battle still fills me with survivor guilt, all you can do is watch and offer help and support. I won't complain about cold as it's warm here compared to your low temperatures.
ReplyDeleteWe may have our first frost soon. We have four downright cold days coming - highs in the 40s and lows in the 30s. Tim is excited because these kind of temperatures bring the deer out.
DeleteAutumn brings dark thoughts, the old adage, 'live each day as if it is your last' is always I think a bit pessimistic but then I have a black sense of humour which tides me over.
ReplyDeleteNormally I am a bit more pragmatic about things. I mean, no one lives without dying. It's just the way of it.
DeleteRay and I used to have such conversations, about who would die first and we both said whichever of us it was, we as the survivor would be angry with the other for leaving us. Ah, the triggers. I am back after a bit of sobbing. Little did I know the day he died, he earlier said, I'm doing ok for my age. I still shop, cook and clean. Fcuk, I am getting messy. Take two. You will have the WWW to offer you love and support if Tim goes first. What about Tim if the opposite happens?
ReplyDeleteOh no. I am sorry to have brought that all on. If you were here, I'd share my tissues with you. I know exactly how it will be if I die first. Tim will continue on as Tim always does. He's very practical. We got a call from someone who is helping her sister go through her husband's things. They had a basement with about a dozen batteries in them. Cars. Lawn tractors. Batteries everywhere. Tim explained that they were worth money to a scrapper, but they were adamant. They wanted them gone. We took them. Driving home, I said, "Well, I'm going to need you to promise that you will hang on to my stuff just a little while." He laughed. "What am I supposed to do? Sleep with your clothes?' 'No,' I said, 'but I'ma need you to hang on to the stuff until I'm actually dead." The poor man had just been admitted to a nursing home.
DeleteAs a side note, my daughter lives across the street from the sister of this nearly widowed woman. She came home to find a large bag of men's underwear on her porch. She called to ask if I had left them, and I assured her that I hadn't. They were way too big for her son, and way too small for her husband, and she was rightly flummoxed. I said, "I'll bet it was Ms W getting rid of her brother in law's stuff."
I think anyone who has had cancer always has it in the back of their mind. I know my daughter does, and it's been twelve years. She had a bad case of invasive ductal carcinoma (breast cancer).
ReplyDeleteI worried about it coming back for many years, but I am 15 years out, and rarely think about it.
DeleteMy husband was 11 years older than me so we never talked about it, it was kind of assumed. You never get over the shock of hearing he has only a few more days to live, even the fact that he was 89.
ReplyDeleteHere in toronto we are having great weather, yesterday 55 and sunny and today says high 60’s so we shall see. My daughter who lives in the country just sent my a photo of the Northern lights that she saw last night Gigi
Tim is one month to the day older than I am.
DeleteWe are going up to the new house to sit tonight and see if we can see the northern lights. They've been putting on quite a show, but you don't see them in town with all the competing light sources.
I think that someone close to us dying, always makes us think about our own death, and the deaths of those we love. Not morbid at all. We had this same discussion not that long ago and I was upset and angry. My husband refuses to take care of his health and I told him I worry about being a widow in five years. He still refuses to see a doctor. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteTim has always taken his health for granted. I guess I have too. It was a shock to find ourselves at this point where we can't and we shouldn't take our health for granted.
DeleteIt's good that you at least broached the topic with Tim, and you shouldn't feel like an idiot. It's important to have conversations like that, to work out plans and desires. I hope your family member prevails in that battle!
ReplyDeleteI don't think that Tim even cares what I do when he's gone. And truth be told, it doesn't really matter to me. We've got 5 kids between us and we agree that what we have should be divided between them. We've picked our executor to make sure that happens. Anything beyond that is his choice, if I go first.
DeleteI think that this year is the first year that I have really thought that I am past the halfway point and therefore middle aged! A lot of my peers are now the oldest generation of the family. It is sobering.
ReplyDeleteMy sister and I had that conversation last Easter.
DeleteI might be one of your oldest followers. At 83+ I realized my years might be numbered and sometimes lay awake at night far longer than I should rolling that around in my head. Will I live another 4 years? 8? I am pretty healthy for sure but think about how short 4 years REALLY is. Do I buy a new couch? Do I think seriously about a senior living facility when right now I am doing fine here in my own home, even though the gardens are now wild with overgrowth and weeds? Do I talk often enough with my grandchildren? Will they say they really never got to see me in my later years? Sobering thoughts indeed. My genes point to an older life - paternal side which I favor lived into their 90's. You and your middle-aged friends seem like such youngsters to me to be thinking about death.
ReplyDeleteAnd you would be right, Ana. We are too young...but then it happens, and we stare in shock, realizing that if it happens to them, it can happen to us. And these unfamiliar thoughts tumble around in our head.
DeleteBecause I lost several friends at an early age, I think that the awareness that death can come anytime is nothing new to me. I think about it a lot. Probably more than I should. Perhaps it is my way of dealing with the inevitable. I tell Glen often that I hope with all my heart that I go first. And it is so true.
ReplyDeleteI don't have any particular preferences about who goes first. It's more like this knowledge that it will happen, one way or the other, and life will be very different for the person left behind.
DeleteI thought about it with my parents. My dad came from a long line of farmers that died fairly young. My mom comes from a long line of people that lived well beyond average life expectancies. I always imagined life when it was just my mom alive. But then my mom died of brain cancer at age 63. My dad is still alive and healthy, older than any of his family ever got to be. Sometimes life just doesn't go the way we imagine.
ReplyDeleteIt doesn't, and I guess that's what has boggled my mind lately. Last week, an acquaintance's son died. Just out of the blue, he dropped dead, a young man in his early 40s, AFIB. The idea that something like that can (and DOES) happen, rocked me back on my heels a bit.
DeleteWhat a thoughtful post Debby. One day at a Time Sweet Jesus. I like prog rock and Lena Martell. I have very eclectic taste.
ReplyDeleteSometimes, life gives you something to think about, doesn't it?
DeleteWe discussed it, Pirate and me...he said he wouldn't survive long if he was left without me for whatever reason...but that if he went first I would have to keep doing everything....he was right.
ReplyDeleteI think that Tim would be just fine without me. He's a very pragmatic person. Life would sure be different though.
DeleteSue and I do wonder about who will stay and who will go. It comes up from time to time. I don't find it morbid, just real.
ReplyDeleteIt is just kind of a new 'think' for us. We can't quite get over that we are 'there'.
DeleteI think about it often. I don't think it morbid, just a looking ahead. Well, as one of 13 siblings, all still kicking, I guess I would think about it. Also, I have lived here for 50 years, and have seen all of the older generations pass on. Now we, the ones in our 70s, are the front line. No one there to shelter us now.
ReplyDeleteThere's always a shock to realize that you're at the front of that line. 13 kids? Zoiks. The fact that you haven't lost any of them is pretty impressive. Must be that sturdy mountain genetics!
ReplyDeleteI don't find it morbid to be realistic about life and death, illness, mortality, and the fact that we will lose loved ones and would be wise to make hay while the sun shines. My younger sisters have thought me morbid for saying we shouldn't put off making plans to spend time together regularly, because we won't always be here. It's foolish not to.
ReplyDeleteThat's a sensible way to look at it.
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