Near the end

but I wanted to say I am very sorry you are going through this, 49 is way too young. I am just deeply sorry, you and your wife will be in my thoughts and prayers.

I'm so sorry for both of your situations.  Your wife sounds like she has a wonderful caregiver and you going through treatments at the same time has to be very hard.  I'm glad that she isn't in any pain and hope that she goes peacefully.  May you find comfort in these last stages and hope that if you need moral support you know you can come to this board.

Kim

beaumontdave said:

Yeah I have, it's about as

Yeah I have, it's about as painful and lonely a place as one could find themselves in. Four years ago, on April 30, Cindy slipped away quietly, while I read nearby. I was several months out from my third cancer surgery. a liver resection, and they were running Ct's and PET scans every three months, scoping me both ways, all because their was fluid in my right lung that they thought might be cancer caused. They drained it twice. All of this, and I still had to work in between appointments, while my son or sometimes the daughter kept up the 2 hour liquid morphine dose to my wife. The hospice bed was in the living room so she could be easily tended to, a nurse was coming 3-4 days a week to bath, change sheets, tend her, so that helped. Her brain tumor by now was distorting her pretty face, forcing it's way into her ear canal. I was screaming in my mind for her to just go unconscious, which she did 3 days before the 30th. I gave her that medicine through those last days just to be certain she'd stay asleep, her lips were stained blue by it. She was 53. Sorry if this seems graphic to anybody, but it's part of the things I remember this time every year, along with all the great stuff. Anyway, they finally stopped my three month scans and tests in December of 2015, and went to a yearly CT and 6 month blood panels, and I've been counting time ever since. The part that hurt most before the end, back at the liver surgery was having her in ICU a hundred miles away from me as I checked in to have that surgery. We hadn't been apart before then, we walked through almost all our appointments, surgeries, whatever, together through all of it, and now I was on my own and she was where I couldn't be. I sympathize with the load your carrying and the painful helplessness of watching your partner slip away, and still having to look after your own issues. At the time I didn't want hear any tell me it would get better with time, I couldn't think beyond the moment I was in, just one foot in front of the other. Life does go on, different, with the aching loss never very far away in my mind, but I do enjoy life's offerings, working with my youngest, seeing my grandkids grow, working on my poor, neglected house. Simple stuff. May you find the strength to get you through all this, and the spirit to find some good in your life after all this recedes into memory..................................................Dave

Some times the hardest thing to deal with is that life goes on. The universe blinks when your loved one goes but life goes on. It’s all so  harsh. 

Thank you for sharing this.

k

beaumontdave said:

Yeah I have, it's about as

Yeah I have, it's about as painful and lonely a place as one could find themselves in. Four years ago, on April 30, Cindy slipped away quietly, while I read nearby. I was several months out from my third cancer surgery. a liver resection, and they were running Ct's and PET scans every three months, scoping me both ways, all because their was fluid in my right lung that they thought might be cancer caused. They drained it twice. All of this, and I still had to work in between appointments, while my son or sometimes the daughter kept up the 2 hour liquid morphine dose to my wife. The hospice bed was in the living room so she could be easily tended to, a nurse was coming 3-4 days a week to bath, change sheets, tend her, so that helped. Her brain tumor by now was distorting her pretty face, forcing it's way into her ear canal. I was screaming in my mind for her to just go unconscious, which she did 3 days before the 30th. I gave her that medicine through those last days just to be certain she'd stay asleep, her lips were stained blue by it. She was 53. Sorry if this seems graphic to anybody, but it's part of the things I remember this time every year, along with all the great stuff. Anyway, they finally stopped my three month scans and tests in December of 2015, and went to a yearly CT and 6 month blood panels, and I've been counting time ever since. The part that hurt most before the end, back at the liver surgery was having her in ICU a hundred miles away from me as I checked in to have that surgery. We hadn't been apart before then, we walked through almost all our appointments, surgeries, whatever, together through all of it, and now I was on my own and she was where I couldn't be. I sympathize with the load your carrying and the painful helplessness of watching your partner slip away, and still having to look after your own issues. At the time I didn't want hear any tell me it would get better with time, I couldn't think beyond the moment I was in, just one foot in front of the other. Life does go on, different, with the aching loss never very far away in my mind, but I do enjoy life's offerings, working with my youngest, seeing my grandkids grow, working on my poor, neglected house. Simple stuff. May you find the strength to get you through all this, and the spirit to find some good in your life after all this recedes into memory..................................................Dave

I've suffered a different loss, the loss of my only big brother when I was 16 and he was 18 and at the time you can't even process that time will make it better.  I remember my family functioning in a stuper for 3 years and then suddenly, we weren't.   It took about 10 years to even feel slightly normal.   Somehow time makes it less painful even though it's always there.  I guess the brain has a coping mechanism.  Sadly when you're in it, the pain is reeling.  I think we just need to embrace mental pain and scream it out moment by moment, otherwise we'd go insane.  30 years later, I finally go to his grave and I cry but now I can get up and continue my day afterwards.  I couldn't have imagined that when I was going through it.  I remember feeling like a pile of bricks was on my body and my head was throbbing and I wanted to just rip my brain out of my body from the mental pain.  My little brother never recovered.  He's had smoking, drinking and drugging problems ever since.  He was such a good kid back then.  It's like he's trapped in time.   Allowing the grieving process is super important, finding ways to cope minute to minute to minute or even second to second if necessary.