Tag Archives: Death of Spouse

Sorting, Donating & Remembering

 

peru days

Robert in healthier days, working in Peru (2016)

I have been putting this off. Not that I needed to do it in a hurry. Today I spent some time sorting through my husband’s jeans and shirts. He had a stash of jeans in large sizes – he used to be a big guy. Cancer diminished his body, but not his spirit. He had given away most every piece of clothing to a local shelter where he volunteered. The only clothing left in his closet were two pair of jeans, one pair dress pants, a sport coat and 3 shirts. Then I found the stack of jeans. I’m sure he planned to take the bag to the same shelter. I will do so this week, along with some sweatshirts and PJs that I found.

Robert was a bicyclist and loved riding the trails on his mountain bike up in Memphis and in Jackson. But here in New Orleans the terrain is flat. He loved riding these streets as well. Most days he would ride ten miles. He did that until earlier this year, until his energy was zapped by chemo. All the memories fill my heart as I sort through his old biking clothes – he was serious – he had all the gear of a racer. The elastic in his biking shorts has dry rot now. Ditching those.  One thing I know, is that my husband’s life is so much more than all these things.

Bike

Biking along the Natchez Trace

As I sort and pack up his clothing, my very heart hurts with pain. Until I pull out his favorite biking shirt. Neon reflective green, with black stripes. I can see him now, soaring over the hills and through the sand, never stopping, breathing deep, sweat dripping, blowing hot breath as he pedals up a hill. He is strong. He is muscular. He is healed.

As I will be one of these days. But until then, my heart still hurts.

Mardi Gras and “Coat of Many Colors” that we made; Riding the streets of New Orleans.
~~~~~

 

First Fruits.

401668_441891082489033_1446753152_nThe thought of leaving our home – this little blue shotgun house with the white picket fence – generates pain so visceral that my very nerves ache. My heart hurts. My toes want to curl up and hide. This was our plan for so many years. The grapefruits are beginning to ripen, as are the lemons. This will be our first year for grapefruits. Robert and I have always made preserved (salted) lemons to use in cooking and as salad dressing. Insects got the lime blossoms this year, so we only harvested one lime. The okra is about done for – I will pull up those 7′ tall plants soon. We need rain. It is coming.

557880_4836025583421_495101029_nSo what will keep me here? I have friends here, and a daughter and her family. I walk around the city. Nothing is the same. This house is not the same without Robert. This was our dream our entire marriage, to retire in our favorite city and live out our days eating muffalettas in Jackson Square and walking our dog on the streets of New Orleans. Meandering through the French Quarter and through the cemeteries. Trying out new restaurants and watching the boats navigate the Mississippi. Feeling the warm breezes in Audubon Park. Listening to good music and enjoying friends.

Robert loved the heat and humidity. Riding his bike and returning home soaked with sweat was his idea of a good time. But even the heat causes tears these days.

IMG_5860I have decisions to make. Should I leave, should I stay, should I try to make my roots deeper without the one that planned to be here beside me planting his own roots deep? Where is the joy in doing this alone? There is sweetness, surely, in the memories we made during the brief two and a half years we had here. I have a ton of memories (21 year’s worth) to go through and sort. Clothing, books, papers, artifacts from our travels. That chore alone will take me many months. Nothing will be done hurriedly.

grapefrI will harvest the lemons and preserve them in salt. Sometime in October or November, I will taste those first grapefruits by myself and relish the sweet labor that went into planting that tree years ago.

But tasting them without Robert will not be the same. Nothing will ever be the same again

                                                                           ***

Life Goes On

So this is the story ….. August 2019
My husband Robert – my heart and soul and love – died on August 20, 2019.  I am broken and raw.  I will try to summarize the past two years, and what led up to his death from gastric cancer. My chronology may not be exact, but this is how I remember it.

June 2016

My husband Robert finally retires to New Orleans, so we are together after almost 2 years living apart – me living in New Orleans having opened a business, and he living in Memphis trying to sell our house.  We are so excited to be together again. We have plans! Fun plans in our favorite city in the world, New Orleans.

March 2017 Robert has a bike accident.
Robert is out riding his bike. Seems a long time gone. I hear him come in. He walks slowly into the living room and says “can you put my bike away for me?” I look down and blood is running down his leg and arm. I aim him toward the bathroom and doctor him up as well as I can – scrapes and bruises. He seems ok, just sore. Next day he can barely walk so off to the after hours clinic we go. He is injured, with a cracked collarbone and bruises and contusions, slight back injury and possible groin sprain. He is bandaged up and sent home to check in with is regular doc the next day.

Doc does xrays and blood tests and sends him home with pain meds. He is on a walker for several days, then a cane. Doc calls – blood test reveals unusually high calcium phosphatase levels. This indicates that something is happening in his bones. His regular internist schedules tests.

April 2017 Sent to Oncologist.
Scans reveal numerous lesions throughout his body. On his femur, ribs, collarbone. Metastatic carcinoma of unknown origin, they say. He comes home and says, “They say I have cancer and I could be dead by Christmas.” We fall to the floor weeping together.

After doc visit,“I’m feeling great; how is it that I have Stage 4 cancer and feel good?” he asks over and over.  He decides to go to Peru again in summer for his teaching project, even though in pain in his thigh and back. After a couple weeks in Peru, he realizes his injuries are not getting better and he comes home and schedules another visit with doctor. He begins taking X-Geva shots once a month to build up bone where the cancer is destroying it. That is working. It’s a horse race between the X-Geva and the cancer.

Summer 2017 through Summer 2018, More Tests & Scopes, and a Heart Scare.
From summer into fall, R. undergoes scopes in every organ of his body. No cancer is found other than the original lesions on his bones. He rides his bike one morning and feels some tightening in his chest. He has appointment for an EKG anyway, so he decides to drive to Touro Infirmary. In the hospital, the tech is attaching electrodes and suddenly Robert says his chest is hurting and he is going to be sick – the tech witnesses him going into cardiac arrest and pushes the Emergency button. R is surrounded by about 15 docs and nurses, they tell him he is having a heart attack and he tells them to call me. They put in a stint, he stays overnight, and he is fine – just shaken up and confused about what happened. He goes home, takes it easy for a few days.

September 2018 Decision to Close Our Shop.
Caring for Robert and running our shop by myself was beginning to take a toll on my own health, and Robert was getting sicker – we jointly made the decision to close our shop. I am glad we did.

Finally, another scope of his stomach reveals cancer cells in the lining of the stomach – the origin of his cancer is discovered there. He continues to ride his bike and do normal things – he is extremely tired and has pain in his back and severe acid reflux. Now to formulate a treatment plan – chemo is first line of defense, so he begins his first 8 week round of chemo in October, and he is so ill we don’t think he will make it fully through the 8 weeks, but he does. He loses weight and is extremely tired. He does not enjoy any holidays. He is miserable.

January 2019 and a Reprieve.
He improves after the end of the first series of treatments and regains some of his energy and appetite. We take a cruise to the Yucatan and have a very pleasant and relaxing vacation. He is able to walk around ruins and eat everything. He naps when he is tired and we really enjoy the trip.

February and Decision to Stop Chemo.
Time for his 2nd round of 8 weeks, and he is dreading it. After two weeks he tells the doc he is stopping chemo, as it is making him too sick and weak to enjoy life anymore. His left lung collapses, and fluid builds up. Doc says if he cannot tolerate chemo, then insurance may possibly pay for immunotherapy. He begins Keytruda in May – a 1.5 hour infusion every 3 weeks.  I drain fluid off the left lung every other day at home, and he goes to Touro about every 2 weeks for right lung drain.

Chemo Destroyed Pleuri and Caused Bleeding Ulcers in Esophagus.
June and July he continues the X-Geva and Keytruda, and only gets weaker and his breathing is labored. He keeps going. He cannot eat without pain, is totally miserable and cannot tolerate food unless it is soft – and even then he eats only a tablespoon or so. He is trying so hard to get better. He has a PET Scan and the cancer is stagnant. No new lesions. The keytruda is working. But he is so sick because he cannot take nutrition and cannot breathe. There is nothing that will make him comfortable. He has no enjoyment of anything, cannot walk from the sofa to the bathroom without stopping to rest. Cannot ride in car without suffering.

Decision for Hospice Care.
On Wednesday August 14 he said, with difficulty, “I can’t go on like this. I’m ready for Hospice.”
~
I believe I can heal and move through my grief if I write this story. I will write more about this journey very soon. But for now, I will stop here and let my emotions rest awhile.  Here is a link to my husband Robert’s obituary.