It has only been three days. I have taken care of the cremation. I am haunted by his hands outstretched to me in the hospital bed showing he had to give up. I am not angry at him, I am angry at me. I could have held him while he passed. I didn't, and I cannot forgive myself. He helped me through cancer. He was the rudder to my ship when my colon ruptured. I could not have made it without him and yet I feel I let him down those couple of hours he passed away. It was a terrible night in the ER, 4-5 hours wait with me going up to the desk over and over saying he needed a bed. I kept him covered up and held him then. We got to the hospital room at 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. I kept fussing because he would not keep his arm straight with the needle in it and I had to keep resetting the buzzer on the drip machine. Will I ever be able to forgive myself? I was a good caretaker and never minded one second of helping him. He went down in six weeks and thankfully there was not much pain. If there was, I gave him a pain pill, but he did not require much. It was already Stage IV liver/colon ? cancer when it was found in September. He was riding the elliptical 30 minutes at a time in August. They did the liver biopsy at a teaching hospital in Little Rock and it was all downhill after that. He slept mostly 24/7 without any sleeping pills or anything. He said "don't you think I see the worry in your eyes?" But I kept telling him I could not live without him. He just went so fast. We had been married 54 years and I never minded caring for him at all. He took care of me, that is what I was here for. He minded though. Even his walking was taken away and he hated me putting him in a wheelchair. He only had two chemo sessions.
