http://onepartwidow.blogspot.com/

Changing Again.

It has been a very long while since I have written. My therapist suggested that grief makes it very difficult to concentrate. I think she was right, but now that I find many of my everyday needs being met once again, I feel ready to write. I even painted a little a few weeks back.

But I am not going to write this blog. I have started a new one, one that seems more suited to my life. It is called One Part Widow. If you wish to follow me once again, please join me there.

Thank you for being a part of my life. I hope that you choose to continue reading my musings.

Ann

Anger

I am angry today.

The county wants every penny back that Dennis received for care. Yes, he had money left and I was afraid this would happen, but I am still angry that it has happened.

I am angry at the social worker for not telling us that the help was simply a loan.

I am angry that Dennis had to work to receive this loan.

I am angry at Dennis for not gifting me the money like we discussed.

I am angry at myself for being angry.

Maybe I just needed a good excuse to cry. It's been weeks since I have had a good hard cry and maybe I just need one.

Lucky you, for reading this today. No comments of sympathy, please. I am just reporting the truth as it is today

Recovery

The last three weeks I let Jane and Ralph take care of me. It wasn't until I came home to a needy cat and an even needier cat sitter, that I realized just how much I really needed to be cared for. As much as I miss Dennis, I do not miss the care-giving aspect of our relationship.

This week I took care of myself. I had three long over-due doctor visits and procedures and a dental appointment. I also contacted several friends and made plans for the next month for lunches, happy hours and walks around the lakes. I made a list of things that I need to complete to get the dead Dennis done with (taxes, county recovery reports, medicare....) allowing me to remember the rest of Dennis.

I also went back to work - my very part time job - and picked up a few new responsibilities to complete sometime over the next few weeks.

I programmed my Wii Fit Plus with a new program that would keep me working out for 43 minutes at a time. I still have my ChaLean program to work when I want (although I don't want right now) and my walks around the lakes.

Yes, I am on the road to recovery and building a new life.

Ann

A Walk in the Graveyard

I am back from a very helpful visit with my sister and brother-in-law in London. Jane and Ralph took great, nurturing care of me - feeding me, letting me be lazy, making plans for going places that I would enjoy, and taking long (for me, not for them) walks in various neighborhoods in London. For the first time in 2 or 3 years I let someone else take care of me.

A short walk from their home is a huge graveyard. It is multi-cultural, perhaps multi-denominational, but definitely it is large and ostentatious in places. It is the perfect place for long and quiet walks during the week. Jane and I went there once and then I took a walk there by myself one day.

On the walk with Jane I asked her to tell me about a time she remembered that Dennis was not sick. Dennis and I were together for 10 years; Dennis was sick for 6 years. Although I fell in love with a healthy man, I was having a difficult time remembering him without an aid to walk, a diaper or a fight needing to be fought. I needed to hear something else.

She was not able to remember much either, but did remember him both being aggravating by his over-indulgence of me one Christmas and by being fun at a baseball game that she indulged him in one afternoon while I worked.  We never found a non-ill memory, but did finally get to a place in our walk where we were just plain laughing or simply living our lives in the moment.

A while later I walked again by myself. It was a place in London where I could talk aloud to myself, a very rare commodity. I talked, yelled and cried and no one noticed. Finally I sat down on a bench, generously provided by someone who was honoring someone else they loved. I told myself it was time to move forward, to plan a life by myself.

I can, and do, miss Dennis daily. Sometimes I miss his complaining, his whining and other days I miss his stories and his laughter. But I know that I must move forward. And I want to move forward. And there is really no other direction to go.

Ann

Tear Tsunami

A wave, more like a tsunami, of tears hit me today. In fact I am trying to write my way through them. My therapist, doctor and friends warmed me about these waves of grief. I wish they were done. I don't like these feelings.

I am not sure of the trigger. There are so many things muddled together. I haven't left the house in two days. I haven't had the energy to get out of bed, but the cat eventually forced the situation each day. Tomorrow I have a lunch date that I cannot get out of - I only know her work email as a contact. Getting up and out of the house may help.

I have eaten. I managed to go to the grocery store and purchase ready made comfort food - potatoes, turkey and gravy. Maybe too many carbs? But at least I am eating.

The "30" day period has just come and gone, maybe that is part of it. I found out today that someone slightly related to me, living in another country, may also have MSA. I was asked to please write a Press Release letter for MSA Awareness Month, a skill way beyond my competence. I found an editor who graciously helped me through the process.

The tipping point came when the county sent me another estate recovery letter today. They want proof of Dennis' checking, savings and other financial accounts as of the date that he died. They want money. It was just one too many things.


All of this is simple life, I know that. And I also know that I have to face all of it, and I am responsible for my life. But I don't want to be right now. I want someone to take care of me and fix all of this. And at the same time that is exactly what I do not want.

And I guess all of that adds up to a wave of tears and sadness overwhelming me once in a while.

Ann, not dealing with grief with a smile today

MSA Awareness

As many of you know, Dennis died of a rare neurological disorder called Multiple System Atrophy. This disease is considered an orphan disease, meaning it is so rare that it affects too few people to be given much thought by the medical community, politicians, and funding for research.

However, currently there is a petition that you can sign that only asks that MSA be brought to the attention of others. I would be very appreciative if you would take a few minutes to sign this petition. Signing it will not bring new information to your inbox (unless you choose it to do so) and will do you no harm. It may, just may however, bring MSA the attention it is due.

MSA Awareness Petition

A Painting for Dennis

A while before Dennis died, I started painting a series of paintings using symbols that promoted good health. This was the last one I painted.

I am an abstract artist, so this may not be your cup of tea. But Dennis liked it and I loved it.

It is Dennis (on the right) yelling at his brain (the big head shaped thing - he did have a big head) to start working the way it was suppose to work. The angel is because we both knew all the yelling, anger and frustration in the whole wide world would not change the outcome. Dennis was dying and we knew it.

Those last years of care-giving were difficult at the best of times. But I was proud of the way both of us handled Dennis' impending death. We fought like hell to make life as good as possible. We also learned to accept the inevitable with grace and honesty. We spoke, cried and yelled our anger out, especially during the last 6 months.

Ann

Lake Street

I live on the far west side of Minneapolis. Yesterday I had a meeting on the far east side of Minneapolis' twin city, St Paul. There are several ways to get from one city to the other, most involving highways, but given the snow and the crawling pace of traffic, I chose to take the direct route on one of the more famous streets in Minneapolis and in St. Paul.

I live a few blocks off of a street named Excelsior which turns into Lake Street as you near Lake Calhoun, one of the uptown lakes in Minneapolis. It continues to be called Lake Street until you cross the Mississippi and enter St. Paul, where it becomes Marshall. I don't know as much about the history of Marshall, but I do know Excelsior and Lake Street quite well.

When I first moved to Minneapolis, some thirty plus years ago Excelsior was where my friends and I would go to party. There were a few bars with music and tons of people. And there was Miracle Mile - probably one of the original strip malls in the states. The rest of Excelsior was a blur to me - I don't recall there being any other reason to be on Excelsior.

Lake street had distinct areas - uptown on the west, the large Sears store and K-Mart as you headed toward the less reputable parts of Lake Street and then the east side, which consisted of an odd assortment of stores, bars, and a few houses.

When Dennis and I lived in south Minneapolis, I often drove this route going west to take him to the emergency center or the hospital, which are just a bit west of where I live now. It was always rush hour, after I came home from work and the drive seemed to be a chore. I was tired, hungry and Dennis was hurting somewhere, somehow.

Yesterday I thought about how this route has evolved over the years. Miracle Mile is still a mainstay of Excelsior on the south end, but the bars on the north side have been replaced by medical clinics, chain stores and restaurants and condominiums galore. As it turns into Lake Street, the uptown area was once a bustling shopping stop full of unique stores. It has changed many times over the years, but it has always been a place for the independent minded to live and congregate.

The next part of Lake street has it mainstays - but the culture of the street has changed. What was one time considered a fairly dangerous part of town filled with drugs and hookers and drunks, has become a multi-cultural plethora of ethnic restaurants and stores.

I could go on, but I won't.

What crossed my mind as I drove this road was how much life has changed since I first moved here. Life is always evolving, as is this street.

There was some peace in thinking about that yesterday. Just a little bit of peace.

Quiet

For the past 10 years, a television set has been on from morning until bedtime. Dennis was addicted, even though he never really watched it much. He just wanted the noise, I guess.

Dennis talked a lot, when he was able. He still talked a lot when no one could understand him. He talked all of the time.

The past six months, since I retired from teaching, Raquel, his PCA, was around and we chatted together. Then Dennis and Raquel would chat. Then we would all chat. And of course, the TV was still on in the background.

The phone was ringing constantly. Doctor appointments, travel agents, medical supplies, travel arrangements, hospice,,,,

Always some noise.

Now it's always quiet. Even the cat is a quiet cat. I still turn on the television, but I turn it off if I am not watching something. I talk to the cat quiet often, but "Pretty kitty" does not make for a stimulating conversation.

The phone doesn't ring as much any more. And that's okay, I never have liked phone calls much.

It's just quiet. It's okay, but different.

Pupil

Okay, a disclaimer first.

Some of you will think I am nuts (I'm not) and some of you will just say it's her imagination. Or perhaps, it's what she wants to be true. And some of you will relate.

Either way, this is my story.

The first few nights after Dennis died, I was so exhausted that I slept 12 hours easily. Some nights I would take the Klonopin that had been prescribed for me, other nights I tried to sleep naturally. This past week or so (tomorrow it will be 3 weeks) I have been waking up in the middle of the night, more or less wide awake. Since I am sorta retired, this isn't a huge problem, but I would like to get back to a normal schedule.

Two nights ago, I woke again at 3 AM. I played some games on my IPad to get myself out of my head. Soon, I was relaxed again, and closed my eyes to sleep.

When I closed my eyes, I saw an all white background under my lids. At first I attributed this to playing with a backlit toy, but it was different. It was soft like cotton balls or a ball of really fine cashmere. I just let it happen and in a few seconds an iris appeared in the middle of this white. It was obviously the pupil of an eye, and it was only a pupil. And it was looking at me directly into my own iris.

It wasn't there long. But it was Dennis' eye. I would know his eyes anywhere, any day, any time.

The next morning I woke up with a smile on my face.

Can't Sleep

I cannot sleep.

I have been sedating myself with a mild (very mild) narcotic that my doctor prescribed quite a while back. I take a low dose when I retire, and another half if I wake in the middle of the morning - usually around 3:00

I tried it again tonight, but my body wasn't going to relax. And then I remembered that I am retired and I do not have to get up in the morning at any special hour. Well, sorta retired, and there were no schools on my agenda for today.

So I got up.

But what does a person with no motivation do at 3 AM? Now it's 5 AM and I am still unmotivated.

I was crying last night. I received a email from Dennis' sister, Donna, right before I went to bed. She sounds dragged down, too. I tried to answer the email, but I got bogged down in tears and sentiment, and I didn't think she needed that from me.

Then I looked at the calendar and noticed I wasn't returning from the UK until the day before taxes are due. I suppose that was on my mind. I still haven't made it through all the papers in Dennis' room and now I know that I need to finish that. I don't need trouble with the IRS.

I have also been thinking about how I can support MSA Awareness Month in March. Oh, I had big plans of making a video, but then I was overwhelmed by how many computers we have that are loaded with pictures, and how would I put them all together. Even with help from a friend, Angelika, in Germany, it seemed way to over-whelming.

I have had enough over-whelming in my life the last few years. I need to do what pleases me for a while. If that means getting up in the middle of the morning and writing in my blog, then that is what I will do.

But, still, I can't avoid the IRS. On the agenda for the weekend.

Ann

Punishment Light

A while back Netflix began to stream through Wii. Since I wasn't using the Wii for exercise, as was planned, I signed up for 1 disk at a time, plus free streaming.

Weeds, seasons 1-4 were available. I had heard it was very funny and watched a few seasons, until it got a bit crazy, as all sitcoms eventually do.

There was an episode where the main character sits at an intersection she calls the Punishment Light. She is extremely stressed out by life and this damn light is always red, even when there is no traffic. She has a minor break-down while she waits for the light to change.

I live near one of those intersections. There are stop signs, then two sets of lights, a turn and another set of lights and then the great Minnesota invention - the "entering the freeway" lights. When I worked, I needed to take this route every morning. I remember timing it, and the longest was 10 minutes before actually getting on the highway. Now I am talking about a 1 mile ride here. One mile in 10 minutes.

When I was under stress, I would run red lights, swear, beat on the steering wheel, etc. I don't like waiting or being late.

Today I hit the same long wait, and I was a little behind for a school visit. But I noticed that without the stress of working full-time and caring for Dennis full time, I was able to take the 10 minutes of punishment much easier. I only thought about swearing. I stopped at red lights. I didn't take it out on my car. I took it with so much more grace.

Now, if I could only figure out why I deserve being punished by that light.

Spirit of Dennis

I was cleaning out a drawer in Dennis' desk today when my phone rang. It was the UPS dude with a package for me. As I walked down the steps all I could think of was, "what did he order?" He was always ordering something online.

As I signed for this rather large, but light weight package, I noticed it said the word lamp on the label. Dennis had many fixations - watches, lamps, night-lights - to name a few, but he usually would consult with me when it came to decorative items.

And this is what arrived:

It was Dennis' family in Massachusetts. There is a company called Memory Lane Lamps out east. As it says on the card, "the warmth and comfort of the lamp provides a lasting memory of a loved one..."

And the note that Donna and Louie and Carolyn, Katie and Daniel added, said:

"each time you use this lamp, may Dennis' love, spirit and light continue to shine."

I have been seeking Dennis spirit for the past week and a half now. So I put this by our bed so I could light it the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night.

Thank you, Donna, et. al.

Love you! Ann

Goodbye Durable Medical Equipment

There are so many ways I want to remember Dennis. And there are somethings about his last months that I do not want to be left around as reminders. So last week I donated the electric wheel chair, the manual wheel chair, the walker and the hoyer lift to Jerry's kids - the MDS.

When the call came that the driver was on the way, I lined up all of the equipment to make it easier on all of us - the driver, me and the cat. A few minutes later they were out of our lives - the equipment and the driver.

I never minded the manual wheel chair or the walker. They were a daily part of Dennis. But the electric wheel chair frightened the heck out of me when Dennis was at the helm. He drove himself into his computer desk, the dining room table and me. I should mention he only used it a dozen, or less, times.

And the Hoyer. Yes, we did need to use it once, when Dennis fell out of bed. But other than that, it just took up room in a condo that has little room to spare. And Dennis hated it, really hated it. I think it made him feel that he was really, really limited - and he did not like that one bit.

Days are getting better. I have a full schedule starting Friday. Well, a full schedule may be a bit misleading. I have one school or meeting scheduled each day for 3 weeks. For someone who has been sitting around and watching movies for 10 days, that is a big leap. But it is a leap.

For now,
Ann

Better Days

Yesterday was a much better day. Raquel, Dennis PCA that has been with us for over three years came over to help me package up and toss medical supplies.

But really we just chatted, watched a few TV shoes that we got ourselves hooked on over the past 6 months, and shared Dennis stories.

Raquel is really the only other person that has seen the day to day regression of Dennis' body and his ability to care for himself. She has seen what I have seen, done what I have done, and loved the same man I did. She is like family to me. I know she loves me, too, just as she did Dennis.

So, it was better, and Raquel is one reason for a better day.

Onward and forward,
Ann

Sundays

I woke up this morning confused. I had been dreaming about houses and people, and wasn't quite sure where I was for a moment. Then I looked for Dennis, like I have every morning and realized I was at home, in our bedroom. Only it isn't our bedroom anymore, it's mine. And it's lonely.

I finally got out of bed and almost immediately started crying. I didn't have the energy to make my coffee. I picked up my phone and my sister had called. So I called her back.

And I cried again. I was distracted for a while while she told me about Ralph's diagnosis of diverticulitis and then I started crying again.

Then my nephew, Hamed, called. Yesterday I had asked if I could come over and watch football with him and his friends - looking for a distraction - some positive energy. But now I couldn't face leaving the house. He tried to talk with me, but I couldn't stop crying.

I had planned on going to a birthday bash for January girlfriends, but I had to cancel that, too. Who needs a birthday party with a crying widow?

I blamed it on the fact that I had picked up Dennis' ashes yesterday. I blamed it on being only a week since Dennis had died.

Finally I streamed a movie from Netflix and found my crying subsiding some. When the movie was finished, I started a new one, but there had just been a few too many minutes of being inside my head, and I started crying, hard once again.

Suddenly it occurred to me that it was Sunday. Sunday was the one day that Dennis and I were always alone, together. Oh, for a while last year we had my mom on Sundays, but for most of the 10 years that we were together, we were alone on Sundays, together.

And today I am alone on Sunday with just me (and kitty).

Ann

Spanish Coffee

Sheila, a friend who happens to be a teacher, took me out to lunch yesterday. She took the day off just for me, but I suspect her hangover from karaoke night was a bit of a factor, too.

We had a great time, just catching up, sharing our stories, laughing, lots of hugs and just being together. I am learning to socialize again!

Then I stopped at the bank to make a deposit and noticed that there were 3 or 4 bankers sitting around doing nothing. Dennis had kept this expensive account open that was costing us $25 a month, but we were no longer receiving benefits from it. He was one stubborn dude - he was even more stubborn than me - so we just kept on paying $300/year for Dennis to feel some gratification of having an account for the pretend rich.

So, unfortunately, I asked if I could speak to a banker. The minute I said it I wished I could take the words back and walk away. But I am not STRONG Ann yet, and did not have the strength in me to do anything but be compliant. So I sat down for 45 minutes and answered his mundane questions while he made some changes to our account. I was strong enough to say no to a monthly credit check, no to any fee based services and no to anything that was going to keep Wells Fargo hooks in me forever.

When I returned home I made myself myself my latest concoction to calm me down, but not drink too much. I made a Spanish coffee. It's a bit of brandy, Kahlua, cinnamon, chocolate, chilpolte and hot coffee. The caffeine sends the brandy to the blood and brain quickly, and usually one does the trick.

I was sitting and thinking about how I had not sobbed all day, and only teared up a little a couple times. I called another friend to relay a story I had promised (I will tell you all later), and then had my Spanish coffee.

Gosh, it tasted so good, and I had more coffee, so I made another. And then another.


Should not have had that third. Probably not the second, either, but definitely not the third.


I was crying, and sobbing, and petting Shiva, and talking to Dennis and then to my parents and sobbing some more.


I am guessing that I have many days ahead that will be up and down and down and up. But from now on it's one or two Spanish coffees only.


Until later,
Ann


And I changed the settings on the blog so anonymous can now post comments.

I have been seeing a therapist for a few months to help me through the end of Dennis' life. Today I arrived with my own box of tissues and she knew something was big. I told her Dennis had died this past weekend and she had her arms around me before I even had a chance to catch my breath.

After I told her about the last days of his life I started talking about what I was doing to move ahead. It was a cathartic visit.

When I returned home I had a message from Janet, another caregiver whose husband died last year of the very same disease that took away my soulmate. She told me she had done the very same thing I was doing - getting rid of the medical equipment.

The call was reassuring. I was doing what other carers have done before me - donating unneeded equipment to some place that really needs the stuff. It's not about altruism, but more about clearing the home of reminders of how sick our partners had become.

I want to remember all of Dennis, but I don't need the equipment to remind me. I will never forget the last six months we spent traveling, recovering from travel and planning the next trip. But I don't.care to think everyday how we needed the Hoyer Lift to pick him up off the floor when he fell out of bed.

I am not ready to tackle anything else, but it will be nice when the wheel chair, electric chair, walker, bedside table and Hoyer Lift are out of my home and into some persons home that will use them.

Ann

Life After Care Giving

What does a girl do after devoting three years to caring for the man she loves? I guess she starts a new blog.

Unfortunately it starts with the mundane. Life becomes filled with paper work, donating, and phone calls. Friends slowly call, write and ask how they can help. Bills that I have happily given over to my partner are now needing to be handled by me.

Slowly I am picking myself up and I am trying to design a life without Dennis. We all knew this day was coming, we tried to prepare, but who is ever ready?

Not me, I guess.

So if you are willing to go onto the next chapter in my life with me, I am ready to share once again. As always I will be brutally honest, perhaps a bit too honest, and hopefully with my quirky sense of humor.

Until later,

Ann, on her own