Honey, We’re Home!

Yes, we are home from the hospital as of this evening. His stay was great as hospitalizations go, and the staff was wonderful to him (although it doesn’t hurt that I worked there for five years and most of the nurses, aides, and even the doctors still remember me). But it feels soooo good to be back home again……it almost seems normal.

There he is, napping in the chair just like he does everyday, looking peaceful and comfortable since he got his anti-nausea and pain meds in. He actually felt good enough to walk the dog up to the mailbox, although he paid for it with a bout of vomiting shortly thereafter; he really does need to take it a little easier, but then I am NOT going to tell him what to do. Those days are over. This is HIS life and he’s going to spend what’s left of it being spoiled and loved the way he’s always done with me.

I’ve gotten through most of the day without crying, although when people are nice to me I tend to mist up pretty badly. I called my p-doc today like I’d promised, mainly because I wanted to let him know I was using the PRN Ativan again, and I swear HE was trying not to cry—his voice was so kind, but rough around the edges like when one is holding back tears, and all he could say was “Oh, God, M____, I’m SO sorry” over and over again. Of course he offered extra visits if I need to come in, or to talk with me by phone any time I need him, but he also said he would be thinking of us and praying for Will, and the minute we hung up, I lost it again.

I don’t need to spend this time with Will being muzzy-headed, but thankfully the half tablet of Ativan I take every six or eight hours when I feel the crying jags coming on doesn’t make me sleepy……it only helps me tolerate the intolerable, and thankfully my p-doc doesn’t have a problem with my using it to get through this. Better than having an old-fashioned night of bar-hopping, so I can get drunk enough to forget for a little while that my husband has pancreatic cancer and I’m in a nightmare from which I just can’t seem to wake up.

It’s ironic that at long last, I’m having a perfectly normal reaction to some extraordinarily shitty circumstances. Yes, my anxiety is off the charts, but that’s not a ‘bipolar thing’, it’s an understandable response to the worst news I’ve ever received in my life.

All I can do right now is literally live in the moment, which is not a natural talent of mine but must be learned quickly. In three days, something may change; in three months, I may be a widow. But not today. Today is for living and enjoying each moment together. Today is for knowing glances between us and sleeping in our own bed. And above all, today is for making memories.