I've had two sessions so far. I've lost most my hair, but I'm alive. I've not been sick like so many others, and I'm still alive.
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I had not expected to hear the diagnosis. I had thought I had done everything right. I didn't really smoke, I had very few sexual partners, and I went into my doctor regularly.
It happens. I want to discuss it for a moment.
I didn't expect to be suffering from Grief and Survivor's Guilt at the same time, but here we are. I spent 18 years taking care of John; watching the slow and inevitable decline of the person I was closest to in this world. I was his voice when he couldn't or wouldn't speak for himself. I was his advocate. I was his caretaker and his protector. I was more than vested. When he passed, I had a wave of relief, knowing he was no longer in the debilitating pain he'd suffered. I was overjoyed that he was free. The other side of that wave was the deep and unending sorrow that my best friend was gone and I'd never see or hear him again. Then comes the holidays.... and the tears that he wasn't there to enjoy them. That he wouldn't see our granddaughter open her doll that he wanted her to have.... My guilt as a spouse, that I'm still here, and he's not... that I'm not doing things to improve my health.... and that I'm a wife without a husband. There's guilt for my kids too... They miss their father, and have moments of , 'gee I wish...' All of this is part of the grieving process. Just when you think you can handle it, you get smacked down by the guilt that you're here, and he's not. It's hard to enjoy moments, but it's hard not to. And these are the early days. No this is not about my descent into an alcoholic haze! I just like that song. I like a lot of Andy William's songs, so did John. Hearing one makes me think of John and how he'd react to hearing the words.
The freshness of widowhood still covers me. Learning to deal with things. Making little changes, clearing things out that are no longer needed for my disabled partner. And then a song comes on that we both loved, and I can almost feel him in the room with me. And the hurt begins again. As of November 29, 2019 I am now a widow.
The decline of my beloved John was sudden. His illness had been a long and lingering ordeal for him. His end was peaceful and in the arms of his loved ones. John entered Loyola Hospital on Nov.15th. Okay, entered isn't the right term, he was taken there by ambulance from our home. He was suffering acute respiratory failure. The next few hours were not pretty ones, and due to the build of of co2 in his system, we needed to have him vented. Again, not pretty. By Thursday the Okay, I'm really trying. I am, but this gets me down. I can't walk as far or as fast as I used to. I can't lift my leg as high as I could a year ago, and my knees are shot. That's it, they are shot! The cartilage is gone, and replacement shots don't last. I managed to twist a muscle in upper thigh, and sleeping became a nightmare. So much so that I resorted to buying a wedge pillow for between my thighs. (and it does help, but I'm still in the process of healing).
I've given up vanity. I am using a cane to get in and out of the Jeep, but I'm going to have to start looking for a lower based car eventually. I use a motorized cart at the stores... and most of the time now, I don't kill anyone with it. I refuse to be held prisoner in this body!!! I may not like what has happened, but I sure as hell am not going to just sit here and cry about it. I get it, my old age isn't the way I planned it. But if you think I'm going to just sit back and take it... you don't know the witch you're dealing with! Take my legs, I'll get a wheelchair and be the new phyco bitch from hell! 9 years ago, I began wearing a knee brace. Over the years I injured the right knee, over and over and over. By the time I was 56 it was showing wear and tear. But I didn't have insurance, you when Hubby went on disability I was too young to claim Social Security. So I waited.
Long story short, (too late) the cartilage in my knees is gone. To top it off, like a cherry, I have spurs, and I am not a candidate for surgery. So I am taking CBD oil to keep inflammation down, and trying to lose a bit more weight... In the meantime, I am learning to cope, and use mobility devices. I have a walker next to the bed to help me get up and down. I use a cane to get in and out of the jeep. I use the handicap carts at stores. I am not going to stop doing the things I love... I just have to learn to do them a bit differently. Edits, I love them, and I hate them.
Rough drafts are just that, rough. Thus you need edits, and no you cannot do them as you write... or at least I cannot. So book 3 of the Indentured series begins it's final stage now. When the edits are done, the book with it's gorgeous cover done by Sidney Blackburn, will be put on BookSprout for ARC. and then it will go to press.... I love being a writer. I keep promising myself that I'm going to be better at blogging.... yeah, right. My last post was in May.... and we're nearly at July.
I'm having a wonderful time with my grandbaby. She'll be 2 in October. And she's at that age where everything is to be explored. I'm working hard at keeping the old man alive, and some days it seems he's actually helping! Come July I'll be beginning the edits for the last of the Indentured series. And the muse is still working over time, new ideas for another Kate Lancing book, and a Wolfe and Hood mystery are in the works. So... I'll try and post more often, but for now, no promises. |
AuthorPatricia M. Bryce is a short story author, novelist and cosplayer.
She has appeared as Patricia M. Rose in the anthology, Dreams of Steam:
Gadgets, edited by Kimberly Richardson and published by Dark Oak Press.
When she's not busy writing, she's off being a playtron up at Bristol
Renaissance Faire. You can learn more at
https://www.facebook.com/PaisleyRose1 Archives
April 2019
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