Margm

Maybe it was just because Billy and I traveled that road so much and I had to pass the hospital. I did not turn and look at it coming or going and this is the 2nd hospital I retired from. These are some of my best friends that I need to go say goodbye to, but I just cannot do it. I think maybe that was it, but I have gone down that road since Billy passed away, why fear now? I don't understand life at all. Death either. I'm okay. I am not down, down, I am kinda numb-down, so I'm okay.

Love the painting.

Oh, I did get a good bit of good news, they all told me what a wonderful little truck I have. A thousand bucks later it better be wonderful. I wanted to buy one of those little clown cars, so now I will be satisfied with my purple clown truck. Really people cannot decide if it is blue or purple. I go with purple. I still have that edge on tonight/this afternoon. I am planting something, I don't know what it is, looks like baby petunias. Putting them in my excess big ole flower pots. Then I'm through with them. They sure are pretty. Didn't know I could grow stuff. Too late I learn. Will be glad to get today over with. The sun is shining.

Strange morning. I have been able to go "bear hunting with a switch" most all the time since Billy has been gone. You get the idea, "damn, if it is to be done, then I better get on with it" and you mindlessly putter on through whatever it is you have to do. Okay. Had to go to Hot Springs to Sears to get the front end aligned. I don't know why the little shop that fixed mine could not align it also. They sell tires. Maybe it has to do like an ortho doctor won't deliver babies, unless he has to. Specialized mechanics. On my way into town, same old road, same old everything (I had taken a Xanax to keep chin from shaking), but I got scared. Have no idea what I was scared of. My day is not much better. They found the shocks leak so I will go that 80 mile round trip Thursday to replace shocks, and No, I don't know why the other shop did not do the shocks. Don't care. Won't ask. To hell with it. Will just go get it done and hope I am not scared. I am so surprised and disappointed with me. I was actually scared, so stupid. I do this every day. Why am I scared now?

I love that Steve.

Well heck, two of Billy's old girlfriends are where ever he is. Hmmmmmmmmmmm

Mitch, I think that is the point of the whole forum, we are to help all of us, like you have helped all of us. You survived the horror. We have all survived the horror. I think about the mama's who have to tell the young children that Daddy cannot come home with them ever again. There are grown adults on this forum that have lived through a childhood without a dad and/or mom. How did their parent break the news to them? How was life after that? My across the street neighbors with the oldest being 9, there were four little girls, how did their daddy tell them that Mama could no longer come home with them? People live through the most horrendous lives and we wonder how they make it. Well, one way we make it is with people like you, Kay, George, Steve, Amy, Maryann, Gwenivere, Kevin, Joyce, and all of you who have gone through these horrendous times. I had my Billy for so long, but I miss him just as bad. I sometimes get angry at myself because I am so selfish I knew he was terminal and I wanted to keep him the months they said he had. But what horror would he have had to go through. I am so distraught he is not here, but if he was here, would I have him so heavily sedated and would he be hurting anyhow even with sedation? I did not want him to go. I wanted to go too. Sometimes/most times, I still do. Only now I have his granddaughter that would be so hurt, not to mention my kids. So, I have got to do what he said. The one left must stay. We try to get in as good a disposition as we can. We try to live. We try to "stay." It would be nice if we all could get in good dispositions. That is why it is so important to have Kay and Steve on here. They lived through it to fight another day. And so will we all. No, it is not fair. Life is not fair. And they lived happily ever after was a fairy tale. I almost had one, almost a real life fairy tale. We all had a real life fairy tale as long as they were with us. But anger does not put out the pain, crying does not stop the pain, screaming gives me a headache, fussing at Billy does not help. He was hard of hearing and did not listen to me when he was alive either. I sure didn't mind talking loud for him though.

She looks like she got settled very nicely. Hmmmm, I wonder if something like that might help me at night? Well, it might if I wore Depends, but I would have to come out of that blanket. It makes her feel secure. She is so sweet.

Gwen, I have no answers to anything. Sometimes my mind gets on overload and I shake all over. I have had a congenital tremor since puberty. Lots of family members have had it. When I get too upset my face twitches, my chin goes into spasms, and I just shake all over. So, anxiety is not my friend. I thought about Billy and the shock of finding him dead after just less than two hours, actually 30 minutes according to the nurse. That picture kept coming to my mind and finally after seven months I started thinking about Billy's feelings. He is not here. I do not know what the hereafter is. I know what I have been taught and I know what I want to believe. And I believe if he could see me now, the one thing he would change is my last memory of him. He was such a proud man. He would be so hurt because my last memory of him was so grim. So, I will not think that anymore. I don't know how I will quit, but when I get settled down I plan on going back to a counselor. I retired from the state hospital for my first retirement and there are doctors I remember. My doc retired, but I plan on going to another. I will go to one who can keep prescribing my Xanax. It is the only thing that stops the shaking when I get in bad situations.. I will always get into bad situations. That is just the nature of my family and there is no psychiatrist that will be able to make me "handle" my family. So, I will just have to learn to handle me, with what time is left me. I know I cannot stay inside and think about Billy all the time. I know I can get outside and think about him as well as I can inside. My family cannot help me. I have got to learn to handle myself. I don't know if you can really teach an old dog new tricks, and I might not be up to chasing a stick, but I have got to live until I can't. And truth be told, as much as Billy loved to be held and get close, I just don't think he wants to see me hurting so bad, if he can see me. And there is nothing wrong with not wanting to be with another man. I miss Billy terribly, but I think he might let me know where he is if I did something like that. If they have to have an answer, ask them why they want to know. It's your life. It's all we have left of that life. We just have to make the best of it we can. And I expect it to be like Steve says and I expect things to improve. Gwen, they have to improve. We cannot go back or get anything back from the past. I wish we could.

I like men's Tee shirts to wear for everyday and to sleep in. I get a big size because I don't like it sitting on my behind, I like shirts that swing, don't fit. I cut out the collar and shoulders of an old blouse and it sure dressed up that Tee shirt. Did you know our thrift store here in this little town has blouses for 25 cents? I bought a lot of collars to wear under my Tee shirts. As to style, well my daughter talks about what is in style, what is not in style. I just don't care. I will not wear heels to church. I can put on a pair of flats that have 1/2 inch heels on them and twist my ankle. I wear "tennis" shoes all the time. I did find three pair of flats that are dressy. And, if I wore pantyhose, I would definitely throw some joint out of place, so I will wear slacks or what I call pants. I have nice blouses to wear with this. I don't know if they are "in style" but they feel good. The only style I remember ever wanting was back in the early 1960's or late 1950's wanting the "pixie" shoes all the other girls wore. My mother made me wear Little Abner boots cause they lasted a long time. I think that cured my "style" searching. And, it is good etiquette to wear a bra when you leave the house. Well..............if I have to.

Mitch, perhaps I worded that wrong. No..........sometimes I might feel sorry for myself. I don't dwell on it. My point was we have people that need help, but we cannot help them till they reach out. My feeling sorry for myself can be any number of things, but I do not dwell on it. What can I say? "Poor me, I was married for 54 years to the most wonderful person in the world, and he was not always the most wonderful person, but neither was I." You took care of your wife, a lot of you took care of your mates for long periods of time. My friend took care of her husband after a major stroke. She changed feeding tubes, changed diapers, helped him in and out of bed for seven years. Her words were "I would have done it seven more years if I could have kept him." There are a lot of selfless people on this forum. I lost Billy fast. He did not suffer much.. Both of our fathers died with cancer, they died horrible deaths that they had the Cheyne-Stokes breathing and we would sit by their bed and hope it would not come again, but it did. My dad had sores on his heels where he dug his feet in the bed from the pain. My Billy did not have to undergo that horror. Feeling sorry for myself is such a shallow feeling. I might miss him terribly, I might feel sorry for myself because I am alone, but I would never dwell on such a self serving emotion. My point was there are a lot of people, a lot of people on this forum that have no one and I wish I could help them. And, I have a friend that is the same age as I am, she is going into assisted living. I do believe the government helps pay for this if you cannot afford it, but as dumb as I am about politics and government, I might be wrong, but it would be worth looking into when you are too ill to take care of yourself and when you know no one that will help.

Kay, I had a coworker tell me one time "Marg, you really are crazy, but its a good crazy." This morning in my daily quotes that comes to my email was this: “Nothing is more important than empathy for another human being’s suffering. Nothing. Not a career, not wealth, not intelligence, certainly not status. We have to feel for one another if we’re going to survive with dignity.” ~ Audrey Hepburn We face each day without our mates. We might feel sorry for ourselves (I know I do), but I have so much help from family and friends. I don't ask for help, it is given. I do have to turn it down sometimes because some things I want to do on my own while I can. I also have family that need more help than I can give them. I can offer suggestions, but I cannot always help. Some of "us" have no one and they are too far away in miles, but sometimes they live alone among strangers. I could suggest church, but did you know when my mom broke her hip and needed help getting to and from church, no one in her church offered to help. No one offered to come pick her up for church. This was when she had some of her mind left. So, sometimes church is not always the answer. Those that are powerless to do anything else will pray for these people. I have friends that I am not kin to (well, I think there was so much marrying cousins in the old days, I probably am kin to all my friends back home,) but when I came to this hospital to work in Arkansas I made some friends for life, and I love them for being my friend. But still, some people have no-one. My reach is not long enough. I have a member of my family that won't ask the government for help. All I can say is, if you do not reach out to someone, to some meeting with people, to a senior center if you are old enough, no one will know you are there, alone, needing help, needing assistance in the way of human feelings, assistance of some sort. If you can afford it, and even if you cannot, there are places called assisted living. I have a friend going into assisted living soon. She has family that is involved in their own close family problems she cannot/will not ask for help. So as friends, we will all be there for her and possibly a bunch of us will live together in the same assisted living facility. Sometimes we need help, even if we are too proud to ask for it. My family member that won't ask, then I will have to find her the help because she will die if she stays all alone. Now, she loves being alone. Some people do, but you can be alone in assisted living too. If you don't need people, that is fine, but at some time or the other, unless we die first, we are all going to need physical and mental help. This is Sunday morning (I think) and my old religious habits die hard, and I have a few people on my heart today.

I've got a new one but I don't know how to use it so I still use the old. No one would admit to leaving the big sander laying on the dining room floor so we have to blame it on Billy, but he cannot admit to it. Too big for me to use anyhow. Gotta get someone to tell me how to work the vacuum. That is my story and I am sticking to it.

I love this picture. I love the booties too and Great Grammy. Thanks Butch.

So happy for you Butch. Beautiful smile, happy baby.

Thanks Mitch. I did take my red lights out of the windows. We live on a dead end street. No business. I have the Eagles, Johnny Rodriguez, Gary Stewart (RIP), CCR, The Band all playing loud. Scott came in and said "Mama's jiving." Just in case anyone figured I was painting the inside doors red, I am THROUGH WITH RED. These will all be cream colored inside doors, just touch ups. I have already given the old girl her coat of red paint. No sentimental music playing. Just loud and unthinking.

Sometimes I have to fight this terror, this pain with levity. I feel so empowered. I took my purple truck to be fixed and it was $45 less than he quoted me, which was a bunch of money he quoted me, but hopefully it is fixed. I put a coat of Santa Fe Red on the door to cover the cherry red that advertised a flop house (Scott said). He also said it needed another coat of paint. Fixing to go slosh another coat on and then I am going to tackle sanding off the inside doors in the house and repaint them. Does that make sense? I had a teenager who liked to stick stuff on her doors I cannot peel off. I have two things running through my head, one is below, and I am going to leave it just like he said it, I am not going to change the wording to be politically correct. After all, in the old days "gay" meant you were happy. Did you know I attributed this old saying to Shakespeare. I get Shakespeare mixed up with the Bible often also. “All the world is queer save thee and me, and even thou art a little queer.” ― Robert Owen To you youngsters, you won't remember this. But, you can You Tube it. I keep hearing this song playing in the back of my head (maybe the front), "They are coming to take me away Oh No, they are coming to take me away ho-ho. Life is not funny.. Life is overpowering. I am not going to let them come and take me away....no-no.

Butch, I love Gracie already. Her favorite color is purple, I think. (Maybe her mom's favorite). Certainly my favorite ever.

Butch, I'm afraid I say too much most of the time. Sometimes I will reread what I wrote and find I have put the same thing down twice or three times even. Sometimes I am down and don't care if I put it five times. Like a journal, my sad notes I don't go back and read. Billy and I had a granddaughter we raised. Billy was her "Dade" and her granddaddy too. She was adopted and never knew anyone but Billy, and she was his heart. We were RVers but got off the road to get our son off drugs and along came the granddaughter. Billy was her first Nanny. Our daughter put her in his arms first and she misses her Dade so much. She and I watch movies and we try to laugh a lot. When she is back in Louisiana we stay on the phone in the evenings. You know how those grandchildren can steal our hearts and I live for her and I know Billy would want this too. We love our grandchildren. We miss our mates, but we carry on for those that are left. My prayers are with your Gracie.

I have been traumatized by seeing Billy in death too. I think we all have been. Billy was such a proud man though. He came from a poor family (we were all poor back in the 1940's and on. His clothes were hung up in the kitchen and a teacher pointed out that his clothes always smelled like bacon. He was just a little kid. He remembered that all his life. So now, his wife of 54 years is going to remember his death mask??? I will remember that no more. That is not honoring him, that would be as traumatic to him as the bacon incident. So Billy, that will be dissociated from my mind. If I can control my mind to numb down then I sure can dumb down too.

Jgillen, somewhere in this vast forum i let my "run-on" fingers ask this same question "why?" My "why's" seem so superficial compared to yours and I cannot even imagine the depth of your "why." I think sometimes we just have no answers. A while back there was someone her husband had been murdered and she had little children. I don't know if she came back on the forum. All I can tell you is the people on this forum have the biggest hearts in the world and Marty always has some article that helps. I am so sorry for your loss and your children's loss. So many "why's" and no answers. I am so sorry.

I hope they all do Karen. I am so sorry our members, so sorry our people everywhere have to suffer.

We discussed having rings tattooed. They sure would have been easier to find. (I am deleting what I wrote up till this point. Kay, you saw it and in personally talking to you, I think you understand me. I do think I have gotten into religion a little too much. I want to find my faith, I will find it if I am given time, but I should not criticize my former faith. Your a good friend Kay.

I went back to my old post. It was seven months on the 17th. I don't think I need to remind people, I really am different. We all hurt so bad. I cannot look at recent pictures of Billy. My daughter posted one on FB of me huddled up to his hospital bed, holding his arm. I can never see that picture again. In cleaning out this house I saw my old Billy, or should I say my younger Billy. Last year, taking pictures of his fly fishing, I can look at those. Pictures after he got sick I cannot look at them. Yet, we are all so different. My daughter had a tattoo of one of his fishing flies with his name as a tribute. Her partner (who you cannot stick a pin between tattoos) had a tribute tattooed. Pictures posted. I have a beautiful wooden urn where I placed a cross with (you guessed it) purple stones on top. I put my hands on it each morning, each night. But, he is not there. I walk to get the mail and usually a cardinal appears. None yesterday, but I found a $20 bill laying in the ditch next to the mailboxes. No, I do not feel he put it there, but my cardinal did not come either. In the books I read on grief, they tell you to keep a journal. I have noticed that journal helps so many people on this forum. Again, we know I am different. I kept finding my little journals where I would post a date and tell how I felt at that time. Every time I read how I felt in October, November, or at Christmas it was like having a huge, gaping open wound and salt or alcohol was poured into the open wound.. Letting go of his death mask took a lot of doing and still it does haunt me at times I did not want it to. I know Billy, I knew Billy. He was a proud man and he would be horrified for me to remember this. Seeing my mom with her head back, her mouth open, I ran from that house hysterical when my sister came home. My sister wrote me she does not know how to talk to me. That is okay, I feel better when she does not talk to me. I saw my sister-in-law pass away. There was no movement, no facial movement at all. Her eyes stayed closed. Her mouth was closed. The only way I knew she had died was the cover on her bed located above her chest quit moving. No facial grimace. Just a clock winding down and stopping. I was the only one in the room with her. My mother has Alzheimer's, an aneurysm next to her heart and another somewhere. She manages to get around. She manages to strike her head on everything. She hurts herself all the time. She will be 95 in less than two weeks. She wants to be with all her family that has gone on. I can remember in my childhood days, she used to wring the neck of chickens to pluck, singe (ugh) and then fry. I, as a young child was terrified when she would do this. A chicken will flop around forever when it is already dead. Mama used to throw a tub on top of them. Somehow my idea of taking those pills and going way out in the woods where no one would find me until hunting season seems so much kinder to those left behind. Mama is just like the chicken thrown under the tub. She is gone but she is still flopping under that tub. You just sometimes wonder why. Why to everything. I know I am not the only person with loss, I have not taken so much Tylenol that I do not have empathy for others and no one has an answer to "why" for anything. When Scott was a little child and would do something wrong I would say "why did you do it?" His answer was always "I don't know." He still remembers this as a middle aged adult, my question and his answer, and he says "Mama, I really did not know why." Well..............neither do I.

I never left Billy's side and when he was trying to tell me that he was giving up my emotion was anger toward him. We were all exhausted. I had had him at the chemotherapy group for three days with them giving him saline, and whatever was in the infusion they gave him. No chemo. But it allowed me to roll him in a wheelchair back to the truck. He held his beautiful hands up to me in submission, I knew he was giving up and I was angry. He could not give up. The doctor Gods said we had months. This was just days, just short weeks, not months. I lay my head on his bed. My stupid body gave out on me and I slept. My last emotion to him was anger for giving up. When I awoke less than two hours later he was gone. The nurse said she had checked on him at 7:00 a.m. and at 7:30 he had his death mask on. And my last emotion was anger because he had to leave. I can numb-down sometimes and maybe one day I can forgive myself. I know he forgave me, he always did. Forgiving myself is the hardest thing, the most impossible thing I will ever have to do other than living without him. And Linda, welcome to our group. None of us want to be here. They say misery loves company. I do not really believe that, none of us want you or anyone else to hurt like we do. They called it CA of colon on his death certificate. I remember as a child having a pet that knowing it was going to die went off by itself to die. Yet, we humans do everything in our power to keep them with us. I let Billy's body go through horrible things, poking and prodding, days of exhausting tests knowing the end results. Yet our animal friends know what is best. At the end, it does not matter what the death certificate says, it does no good to question methods, diagnoses, the end results are the same. None of us can live forever and I might have kept him longer, but to see him die as both of our father's died, if he had to go, then I guess we were allowed a miracle after all. Now, we just pick up the pieces of this shattered million piece jigsaw puzzle and try to just find the corners and straight lines until it is our time. I wish you as much peace as you can find. I look for things that make me laugh. Billy liked me to laugh and he loved hearing me whistle. He knew I was happy when I whistled. I just now thought, I have not whistled in over seven months.