Ever since Michael passed away, I've felt numb and full of fuzz at times. Does that make sense? Sort of like this huge fog has drifted into my body and is just now slowly lifting from the landscape.
I thank God for my family and friends who have been so very supportive. My mom's phoned me almost every night since she returned home last Saturday.
One night, Andrea and her buddies went to another house for a sleepover which meant I was alone in the house for the first time. Around 9:30, I started to have a bit of a panic attack and texted Andrea.
"Are you OK?" I asked.
"Fine," she replied."Are you?"
"Not really. I'm a bit nervous,"
"Do you want me to come home?"
"Yes!"
So I drove to her friend's house and picked up ALL the girls and they camped out in my living room for the night just because I didn't want to be alone just yet. Dear Andrea has been "mothering" me for over a week now. She's gone everywhere with me in the evenings and polished my scruffy nails twice.
I returned to work on Tuesday. Many people were surprised I returned that soon after Michael's death. But, honestly, keeping my head buried in files and doctor's reports is good medicine for me at the moment. It felt strange being here at first, but by Wednesday, it felt routine and comfortable again.
Monday night I went to my church's quilting group and was surrounded by my friends with love and comfort. I also learned how to paper piece log cabin blocks. Each of us are sewing three blocks (at least) for comfort quilts for our congregation members who need a bit of, well,comfort. The pastor's wife will determine who receives the six quilts we're working on. It was an idea I proposed after seeing how much joy Michael had when he received a comfort shawl from a church in Texas.
For the first time in two years, I'm going to my mother's house for the weekend. It will be nice to celebrate Easter with her and my step-dad's huge family. One of Andrea's friends offered to watch our pets for two days.
So, dear blog followers, this "Catquilter" is slowly getting back to ordinary things and life. Each day gets better.
Love ya,
Cathy
Friday, April 22, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Michael
My husband, Michael, passed away in his sleep on April 11.
It's taken me nearly a week to have the courage to get on-line and blog about it.
Last Sunday was a rough day for him. I planned on attending the International Quilt show in Cincinnati, but his breathing and stamina were so poor, I hesitated to leave him.
"You've been looking forward to that show for over a year," he stated, "Go, I'll be fine." He insisted I leave, so I did. I drove home at 2:30 and returned to his room. He woke up and yelled at me, "I thought I told you to go to that show!" I did, I explained, you've just been sleeping the whole time. We laughed a bit about that.
Then about 6 pm, he went into respiratory distress and asked for me to phone Hospice. The emergency nurse arrived and together we got Michael back into his normal breathing pattern and comfortable. It was the worst attack I'd seen. But, he seemed OK. At 10, he wanted something to eat; he had not eaten all day - just didn't feel up to it. I told him I would fix whatever he wanted or even go out to fetch a meal. He wanted rice pudding and toast - two of his favorites.
I delivered the meal to him in bed and he turned on the telly - there just happened to be a show on PBS about the Orient Express. He was happy - his favorite comfort foods and a train show. "Go on to bed," he ordered. "You have work in the morning."
"Are you sure you'll be all right," I asked.
"Go!" he said "I'll be all right," and he smiled and waived bye-bye to me.
The next morning, I got up, started a pot of coffee and made a cup of tea for Michael. I opened the door to his room and could tell at first glance he was gone. I called out his name three times, no response. I started to get a bit shaky, but I knew what I had to do. Phoned Hospice, the on-call nurse was here in ten minutes, listened to his chest and confirmed that he had passed on probably around 4 am. The respiratory attack the previous night probably weakened his heart, already compromised by congestive failure, and he died in his sleep.
The rice pudding was gone, but the toast was untouched and the television was still on. He probably fell asleep and just never woke up.
I don't remember who I phoned first. My mom, brother, work, my friend Diane, my son and Michael's ex-wife. My brother was already with a patient in surgery, but he left as soon as he was done. Mom and my step-dad made the four hour journey and were here by 3. My dear friend, Diane, was here by 10. What a comfort they all were and still are! Pastor Tom and his wife were here at 3 - my sister-in-love phoned them. Michael's ex had just made plane reservations to be here for two weeks to help me care for Michael. I asked her to cancel those and please visit another time. She phoned all of Michael's children for me and his mum too. Andrea was here also and was a huge help keeping the pets happy, answering the phone and door. It was a flurry of activity all week.
We had a luncheon here at the house yesterday in Michael's honor. We shared a lot of happy tales, celebrated his life and comforted each other. It's how he wanted it.
Now, his ashes are on their way to his son who will host a memorial for Michael in England. Again, just what Michael wanted.
I went to church this morning, thanked my wonderful Sunday School class for catering the meal yesterday. During the service this morning, the church organist - an extremely talented musician - the pianist, the bell choir and the chorus performed "To God Be The Glory". It was by far the most beautiful rendition I've ever heard of that hymn. Until then, I had held off my tears, but mid-performance, the tears tumbled out of my eyes. A combination of joy in the glorious music and a celebration that Michael is in heaven. My friend, Donna hugged me and we both said how appropriate it all was.
Throughout everything this week, I knew Michael was and is all right. And so am I.
Love ya,
Cathy
It's taken me nearly a week to have the courage to get on-line and blog about it.
Last Sunday was a rough day for him. I planned on attending the International Quilt show in Cincinnati, but his breathing and stamina were so poor, I hesitated to leave him.
"You've been looking forward to that show for over a year," he stated, "Go, I'll be fine." He insisted I leave, so I did. I drove home at 2:30 and returned to his room. He woke up and yelled at me, "I thought I told you to go to that show!" I did, I explained, you've just been sleeping the whole time. We laughed a bit about that.
Then about 6 pm, he went into respiratory distress and asked for me to phone Hospice. The emergency nurse arrived and together we got Michael back into his normal breathing pattern and comfortable. It was the worst attack I'd seen. But, he seemed OK. At 10, he wanted something to eat; he had not eaten all day - just didn't feel up to it. I told him I would fix whatever he wanted or even go out to fetch a meal. He wanted rice pudding and toast - two of his favorites.
I delivered the meal to him in bed and he turned on the telly - there just happened to be a show on PBS about the Orient Express. He was happy - his favorite comfort foods and a train show. "Go on to bed," he ordered. "You have work in the morning."
"Are you sure you'll be all right," I asked.
"Go!" he said "I'll be all right," and he smiled and waived bye-bye to me.
The next morning, I got up, started a pot of coffee and made a cup of tea for Michael. I opened the door to his room and could tell at first glance he was gone. I called out his name three times, no response. I started to get a bit shaky, but I knew what I had to do. Phoned Hospice, the on-call nurse was here in ten minutes, listened to his chest and confirmed that he had passed on probably around 4 am. The respiratory attack the previous night probably weakened his heart, already compromised by congestive failure, and he died in his sleep.
The rice pudding was gone, but the toast was untouched and the television was still on. He probably fell asleep and just never woke up.
I don't remember who I phoned first. My mom, brother, work, my friend Diane, my son and Michael's ex-wife. My brother was already with a patient in surgery, but he left as soon as he was done. Mom and my step-dad made the four hour journey and were here by 3. My dear friend, Diane, was here by 10. What a comfort they all were and still are! Pastor Tom and his wife were here at 3 - my sister-in-love phoned them. Michael's ex had just made plane reservations to be here for two weeks to help me care for Michael. I asked her to cancel those and please visit another time. She phoned all of Michael's children for me and his mum too. Andrea was here also and was a huge help keeping the pets happy, answering the phone and door. It was a flurry of activity all week.
We had a luncheon here at the house yesterday in Michael's honor. We shared a lot of happy tales, celebrated his life and comforted each other. It's how he wanted it.
Now, his ashes are on their way to his son who will host a memorial for Michael in England. Again, just what Michael wanted.
I went to church this morning, thanked my wonderful Sunday School class for catering the meal yesterday. During the service this morning, the church organist - an extremely talented musician - the pianist, the bell choir and the chorus performed "To God Be The Glory". It was by far the most beautiful rendition I've ever heard of that hymn. Until then, I had held off my tears, but mid-performance, the tears tumbled out of my eyes. A combination of joy in the glorious music and a celebration that Michael is in heaven. My friend, Donna hugged me and we both said how appropriate it all was.
Throughout everything this week, I knew Michael was and is all right. And so am I.
Love ya,
Cathy
Friday, April 1, 2011
New Challenges
Each week presents its own set of new challenges, especially with Michael's health. His legs/feet are so swollen from the congestive heart failure his doctor has decided to increase his Lasix at the peril of his already low blood pressure. It seems like we chase away one "demon" and another takes its place with these medications. Dr. Peerless has also prescribed another anti-biotic to combat the thrush that's creating so much discomfort in his mouth and throat.
Irregardless, these prescriptions are just for comfort and do not stop his heart failure and lung disease from worsening. It's just a matter of time.
Debbie, our Hospice nurse, said to expect it any time.
So, Andrea and I had a talk the other evening: What to do if you happen to check on Michael and don't get a response from him. Horrible thing to to discuss with an 18-year-old girl. But, the beautiful thing is, she understood and is displaying an unexpected amount of maturity with all this. She's trying her best to protect me.
As much as I'd like to hide in my sewing room, Andrea's not letting me. Every night after dinner, let's play a game, let's go pick up a few groceries, let's practice the driving, etc. A bit of that is healthy, but frankly last night I was tired and wanted nothing more than to sit in my recliner and finish some hand sewing. Eventually did, but by then it was 9:30 and almost time for bed.
The weekend is almost here and I will get a bit of a battery re-charge the next two days. Catch up on my sleep (maybe), get some sewing in (perhaps), clean/do laundry (will think about it) and take care of Michael (definitely). Michael wants a few thing re-organized in his bedroom, for which I may enlist Danny's help. I tidied up the room a bit last night in an effort to make things more reachable for him.
One has to remember his "universe" is limited to just the area around his hospital bed now. So we have to bring it to him - hence the doorbell he rings when he needs help. Once in a while, the doorbell goes off either because it's in his shirt pocket and he presses it accidentally or (as in last night at 10) sits on it. It causes quite a stir - Daisy, our dog, starts barking, the kittens scatter and Andrea races to the bedroom. It does the job!
I hope we all have a lovely, relaxing weekend.
Love ya, Cathy
Irregardless, these prescriptions are just for comfort and do not stop his heart failure and lung disease from worsening. It's just a matter of time.
Debbie, our Hospice nurse, said to expect it any time.
So, Andrea and I had a talk the other evening: What to do if you happen to check on Michael and don't get a response from him. Horrible thing to to discuss with an 18-year-old girl. But, the beautiful thing is, she understood and is displaying an unexpected amount of maturity with all this. She's trying her best to protect me.
As much as I'd like to hide in my sewing room, Andrea's not letting me. Every night after dinner, let's play a game, let's go pick up a few groceries, let's practice the driving, etc. A bit of that is healthy, but frankly last night I was tired and wanted nothing more than to sit in my recliner and finish some hand sewing. Eventually did, but by then it was 9:30 and almost time for bed.
The weekend is almost here and I will get a bit of a battery re-charge the next two days. Catch up on my sleep (maybe), get some sewing in (perhaps), clean/do laundry (will think about it) and take care of Michael (definitely). Michael wants a few thing re-organized in his bedroom, for which I may enlist Danny's help. I tidied up the room a bit last night in an effort to make things more reachable for him.
One has to remember his "universe" is limited to just the area around his hospital bed now. So we have to bring it to him - hence the doorbell he rings when he needs help. Once in a while, the doorbell goes off either because it's in his shirt pocket and he presses it accidentally or (as in last night at 10) sits on it. It causes quite a stir - Daisy, our dog, starts barking, the kittens scatter and Andrea races to the bedroom. It does the job!
I hope we all have a lovely, relaxing weekend.
Love ya, Cathy
Sunday, March 27, 2011
I Love Sundays!
It's quiet in the house at the moment except for the steady hum/whoosh of Michael's oxygen machine. Andrea is out with her dad and brother for a few hours of fun. The kittens are sleeping on the kitchen chairs - dead tired from playing with the new laser pointer toy. Michael's quiet too for the time being - I just took a cup of tea to him. Once he drinks it and eats his snack, he'll soon be sleeping again.
I adore these quiet moments - a brief respite in an otherwise noisy, stress-filled week. Could be that I begin most Sundays with church and Sunday school. It's one of the few things that I truly do for and by myself.
Don't get the wrong impression - I'd love for Michael to attend services with me. However, that's just not possible. He's only attended church once with me and that was ten years ago. Andrea? She's rather sleep in - don't blame her. I've been tempted on more than one Sunday to do that as well. I find if I DO NOT attend church though, the whole week's warped and by Tuesday morning chaos rules.
I fear the lack of oxygen is affecting Michael's thought process. His facebook posts are short and very often filled with typos - something that vexes the man who is proud of his proper use of the English language. He starts conversations with me and mid-sentence he forgets what he was talking about. I politely try to get him back on course, but even that's not enough.
He complains a lot about his aide and hospice nurse not listening to him or his concerns. I KNOW that is not true - Debbie and Priscilla are quite good about listening to their patient. Michael, unfortunately, has never learned the difference between listening with empathy and listening with action. If there's no action after the listening bit, he assumes he hasn't been heard. With his disease, there's little action that CAN be taken, other than providing comfort.
I sewed this afternoon as well - a couple of potholders and a hot pad for a dear sister-in-love's upcoming birthday. Tidied up the sewing room a bit. Andrea and I have been shopping at Joann Fabrics three straight days. NEVER send me a coupon worth 25 percent off the entire order which can be used multiple times AND put batting, Debbie Mumm fabric, and licensed prints all on sale. (LOL) I bought enough John Deere fabric to make a quilt for a co-worker who is probably going to retire by the end of the year. If I know it will need to purchased at some time, best to get it when it's on sale is my motto.
Last week I found some of the flimsies in my sewing room closet which would make excellent thank you gifts for the hospice workers. After Michael has joined God, I'd like nothing better than to show my gratitude to those women via a comfort quilt. So, I'll get started on these now and hope to have three of them ready when the time comes.
Well, the silence is gone - Michael has rang the "door bell" from his bedroom. I need to close now. Hope you all have a wonderful week.
Love ya,
Cathy
I adore these quiet moments - a brief respite in an otherwise noisy, stress-filled week. Could be that I begin most Sundays with church and Sunday school. It's one of the few things that I truly do for and by myself.
Don't get the wrong impression - I'd love for Michael to attend services with me. However, that's just not possible. He's only attended church once with me and that was ten years ago. Andrea? She's rather sleep in - don't blame her. I've been tempted on more than one Sunday to do that as well. I find if I DO NOT attend church though, the whole week's warped and by Tuesday morning chaos rules.
I fear the lack of oxygen is affecting Michael's thought process. His facebook posts are short and very often filled with typos - something that vexes the man who is proud of his proper use of the English language. He starts conversations with me and mid-sentence he forgets what he was talking about. I politely try to get him back on course, but even that's not enough.
He complains a lot about his aide and hospice nurse not listening to him or his concerns. I KNOW that is not true - Debbie and Priscilla are quite good about listening to their patient. Michael, unfortunately, has never learned the difference between listening with empathy and listening with action. If there's no action after the listening bit, he assumes he hasn't been heard. With his disease, there's little action that CAN be taken, other than providing comfort.
I sewed this afternoon as well - a couple of potholders and a hot pad for a dear sister-in-love's upcoming birthday. Tidied up the sewing room a bit. Andrea and I have been shopping at Joann Fabrics three straight days. NEVER send me a coupon worth 25 percent off the entire order which can be used multiple times AND put batting, Debbie Mumm fabric, and licensed prints all on sale. (LOL) I bought enough John Deere fabric to make a quilt for a co-worker who is probably going to retire by the end of the year. If I know it will need to purchased at some time, best to get it when it's on sale is my motto.
Last week I found some of the flimsies in my sewing room closet which would make excellent thank you gifts for the hospice workers. After Michael has joined God, I'd like nothing better than to show my gratitude to those women via a comfort quilt. So, I'll get started on these now and hope to have three of them ready when the time comes.
Well, the silence is gone - Michael has rang the "door bell" from his bedroom. I need to close now. Hope you all have a wonderful week.
Love ya,
Cathy
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Fiber and Friends
Michael yelled at me last night about (of all things) a Fiber One bar.
Two days ago, I left a fiber bar on his nightstand with a package of apple pastries in case he got hungry during the night. He ate the pastries but the fiber bar was unopened. In a rush to get my lunch packed and on my way to work yesterday morning, I grabbed the bar in question, shoved it into my lunchbag and didn't think any more of it.
Michael, however, did not forget the fiber bar. He claims to have spent HOURS searching for it. (Mr. Exaggeration Man strikes again - at least that's ONE thing that hasn't changed about him!) "I took it in my lunch," says me," we've got more in the pantry, do you want one?"
No response, so I continued to change for bed.
"You aren't dressed," he yelled when I came out of the bathroom. "I thought you were going to the store to get more fiber bars."
"We have some in the pantry," I replied.
"No you did not."
"I asked you if you wanted one," I continued.
By that time he was seething, mad at himself and me, so I fetched a bar for him and plunked it on his table.
I don't know if he ate it or not. But I'm certainly not going to take any food item from his room again.
These days I spend so little time on Facebook and the internet whilst I'm home. So, it was a bit of a surprise when Michael's best friend hailed me via an instant message on Facebook late last night.
"I have something to ask you," he wrote. "Michael keeps telling me not to visit that he's either real tired or busy with the hospice aides. Tell me the truth, is he angry at me or is he just being cantankerous?"
I know how much Martin values his friendship with my husband, so I mentioned to Martin that today would be an excellent day to try again since the hospice aide won't be there. I also put a "bug" in Michael's ear, "Hey, since Priscilla's not going to be at the house tomorrow, why don't you call Martin and see if he's up to a visit?"
"Mr Friendly" (aka Michael) is not real keen on having Martin visit. I'm not 100 percent certain why, but I think he doesn't want anybody beyond our little family to see him in such a deteriorated state. I don't understand that.
There are a lot of things about Michael which I don't understand anymore. Pulmonary fibrosis has robbed me of my husband, stolen Martin's best buddy, and left in his place somebody we don't recognize.
Two days ago, I left a fiber bar on his nightstand with a package of apple pastries in case he got hungry during the night. He ate the pastries but the fiber bar was unopened. In a rush to get my lunch packed and on my way to work yesterday morning, I grabbed the bar in question, shoved it into my lunchbag and didn't think any more of it.
Michael, however, did not forget the fiber bar. He claims to have spent HOURS searching for it. (Mr. Exaggeration Man strikes again - at least that's ONE thing that hasn't changed about him!) "I took it in my lunch," says me," we've got more in the pantry, do you want one?"
No response, so I continued to change for bed.
"You aren't dressed," he yelled when I came out of the bathroom. "I thought you were going to the store to get more fiber bars."
"We have some in the pantry," I replied.
"No you did not."
"I asked you if you wanted one," I continued.
By that time he was seething, mad at himself and me, so I fetched a bar for him and plunked it on his table.
I don't know if he ate it or not. But I'm certainly not going to take any food item from his room again.
These days I spend so little time on Facebook and the internet whilst I'm home. So, it was a bit of a surprise when Michael's best friend hailed me via an instant message on Facebook late last night.
"I have something to ask you," he wrote. "Michael keeps telling me not to visit that he's either real tired or busy with the hospice aides. Tell me the truth, is he angry at me or is he just being cantankerous?"
I know how much Martin values his friendship with my husband, so I mentioned to Martin that today would be an excellent day to try again since the hospice aide won't be there. I also put a "bug" in Michael's ear, "Hey, since Priscilla's not going to be at the house tomorrow, why don't you call Martin and see if he's up to a visit?"
"Mr Friendly" (aka Michael) is not real keen on having Martin visit. I'm not 100 percent certain why, but I think he doesn't want anybody beyond our little family to see him in such a deteriorated state. I don't understand that.
There are a lot of things about Michael which I don't understand anymore. Pulmonary fibrosis has robbed me of my husband, stolen Martin's best buddy, and left in his place somebody we don't recognize.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Is It March Already?
I apologize to my friends and followers for not posting until now. My life has been rather hectic which means blogging unfortunately has taken a "back seat".
Michael's health continues to deteriorate. Each week brings a new medication, a different piece of medical equipment, or procedure to follow. He spends nearly all his time sleeping, which is probably a combination of his disease and the medications. Once he told me the only time he's truly comfortable is when he sleeps. Even sitting up in bed taxes his ability to breathe. His legs and feet are swollen from congestive heart failure and poor circulation. The hospice nurse offered to increase his medication for that, but Michael refused it. Debbie (the nurse) told me over the phone his blood pressure is very low and going lower each week. Increasing the lasix could depress it even more. Here's the dilemma: Take one pill; it causes a problem which requires another pill. The morphine creates constipation which requires the use of another drug. Last week, Michel complained of a sore throat and we discovered he has thrush - more medication.
Priscilla comes every day now to bathe Michael, monitor his symptoms, change his bedding and spoil my pets (LOL - Daisy's gained weight since Priscilla arrived at our house. She feeds Daisy biscuits.) If she notices something different with Michael, she's on the phone immediately to Debbie. Knowing that Priscilla is with Michael every afternoon, removes a huge bit of worry from my shoulders.
I cannot express how grateful I am to Hospice of Cincinnati for all the care, love and support they have given Michael and me.
Michael's children continue to disappoint me. They know their father is dying, but they don't call very often, they don't write, and until last week, they didn't even e-mail. He rarely talks about it, but I know it troubles him.
My son, however, boosted the Michael's spirits last week. He wrote an e-mail to him (As he said, it's easier to write these things) and told Michael how much he loved him. "You have contributed more to who I am today than my real father has," he wrote. It was a very loving e-mail and I'm so proud of my dear boy for writing it.
Speaking of Danny, he earned all A's winter quarter at UC. One of his works is slated for a gallery show next month.
Andrea's practicing her driving for the licensing exam. She's applied for a few jobs without success, but I'm sure she'll find the perfect little job. She's been a tremendous help with Michael as well.
Me? I find comfort in my children's successes obviously. LOL I work, attend church, shop, clean, watch a bit of television now and then. Quilting? Sometimes, but it's sad. The kittens spend more time in the sewing room than I do. I finished a quilt for a co-worker's wedding gift a couple of weeks ago and a lap quilt for a silent auction at the office. That's been the extent of my finishes. I'm working on Easter placemats - handsewing the binding. I am going to take a day off in a few weeks to attend the International Quilt Show in Cincinnati.
My mother was here two weeks ago to watch my nephews whilst my brother and his wife were on a cruise. We spent a lot of time together, which felt wonderful. I admit I cried when she went back home.
The one thing I do for myself each week is a counseling session. My therapist is a wonderful, insightful lady. Her advice is sound and I try my best to follow it. But, she asked me a question last week that I could not answer. "How much longer are you going to be able to keep doing what you are?"
Still can't answer with any degree of certainty. As long as it takes, I suppose. Only God knows when Michael will leave this earth. I do know, however, that everything is going to be all right eventually. This whole experience has drawn me closer to God and if that is the one thing which remains with me then it has been worth it.
Love ya,
Cathy
Michael's health continues to deteriorate. Each week brings a new medication, a different piece of medical equipment, or procedure to follow. He spends nearly all his time sleeping, which is probably a combination of his disease and the medications. Once he told me the only time he's truly comfortable is when he sleeps. Even sitting up in bed taxes his ability to breathe. His legs and feet are swollen from congestive heart failure and poor circulation. The hospice nurse offered to increase his medication for that, but Michael refused it. Debbie (the nurse) told me over the phone his blood pressure is very low and going lower each week. Increasing the lasix could depress it even more. Here's the dilemma: Take one pill; it causes a problem which requires another pill. The morphine creates constipation which requires the use of another drug. Last week, Michel complained of a sore throat and we discovered he has thrush - more medication.
Priscilla comes every day now to bathe Michael, monitor his symptoms, change his bedding and spoil my pets (LOL - Daisy's gained weight since Priscilla arrived at our house. She feeds Daisy biscuits.) If she notices something different with Michael, she's on the phone immediately to Debbie. Knowing that Priscilla is with Michael every afternoon, removes a huge bit of worry from my shoulders.
I cannot express how grateful I am to Hospice of Cincinnati for all the care, love and support they have given Michael and me.
Michael's children continue to disappoint me. They know their father is dying, but they don't call very often, they don't write, and until last week, they didn't even e-mail. He rarely talks about it, but I know it troubles him.
My son, however, boosted the Michael's spirits last week. He wrote an e-mail to him (As he said, it's easier to write these things) and told Michael how much he loved him. "You have contributed more to who I am today than my real father has," he wrote. It was a very loving e-mail and I'm so proud of my dear boy for writing it.
Speaking of Danny, he earned all A's winter quarter at UC. One of his works is slated for a gallery show next month.
Andrea's practicing her driving for the licensing exam. She's applied for a few jobs without success, but I'm sure she'll find the perfect little job. She's been a tremendous help with Michael as well.
Me? I find comfort in my children's successes obviously. LOL I work, attend church, shop, clean, watch a bit of television now and then. Quilting? Sometimes, but it's sad. The kittens spend more time in the sewing room than I do. I finished a quilt for a co-worker's wedding gift a couple of weeks ago and a lap quilt for a silent auction at the office. That's been the extent of my finishes. I'm working on Easter placemats - handsewing the binding. I am going to take a day off in a few weeks to attend the International Quilt Show in Cincinnati.
My mother was here two weeks ago to watch my nephews whilst my brother and his wife were on a cruise. We spent a lot of time together, which felt wonderful. I admit I cried when she went back home.
The one thing I do for myself each week is a counseling session. My therapist is a wonderful, insightful lady. Her advice is sound and I try my best to follow it. But, she asked me a question last week that I could not answer. "How much longer are you going to be able to keep doing what you are?"
Still can't answer with any degree of certainty. As long as it takes, I suppose. Only God knows when Michael will leave this earth. I do know, however, that everything is going to be all right eventually. This whole experience has drawn me closer to God and if that is the one thing which remains with me then it has been worth it.
Love ya,
Cathy
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Downhill Slide
Michael's health continues to deteriorate and along with it comes new challenges. He's now hooked up to a catheter because going to the toilet challenged his lungs/stamina so much. Morphine has also been increased. The combination of that drug and his impairments makes him sleep nearly the entire day. That's a blessing of sorts.
Hospice was at the house every day last week, including Sunday night when he was in a lot of pain. Thank goodness for 24/7 response from that organization. The aide is going to increase her visits beginning next week. She is a God-send!
Work ordinarily would be my refuge from the home front. But, even the atmosphere at the office appears toxic these days due to a firing of a long-term associate, upcoming changes which my manager tries to keep hidden from us, and a power-hungry auditor who wants to squash us all into submission. (LOL)
So, my counselor says to look for the bright spots. Believe me, I try, but they are hard to find like a "Where's Waldo" game. Never was good at that stinkin' search and find crap. Sometimes stuff has to smack me in the face before I recognize it.
One bright spot was Valentine's Day. My darling daughter made a lovely card and necklace for me. Andrea's love and support have truly been a blessing, boosting me up. She's seen me at my worst, too, like last week when I couldn't stop crying because I thought I hurt Sophie.
Sophie had crawled into the dishwasher when I wasn't looking. I slammed the rack back into the machine and was shocked to hear the kitten shriek and bolt from the dishwasher. Oh, she was ok, but I think it was the "last straw" in a horrible day for me. I cried as I held poor Sophie, her black fur sopped up some big tears. Rather confused by it all, Sophie is and was fine and hasn't crawled into the dishwasher since.
And then there's my sewing...do I ever relish my time in the sewing room. I finished piecing the wedding quilt and the mystery quilt for my church's quilting club. In addition, I made great progress with the blocks for "Buckeye Bouquet". I hope to get the wedding quilt on the frame by the weekend. I've also been asked to donate a lap quilt to the company's Fine Arts Fund week auction. Thank goodness for flimsies all ready! They do serve a purpose.
I've also gotten into the habit of reading a bit each night before going to sleep. It's also my prayer time. Honestly, I look forward to that spot of time every night.
Today I read this:
"The burden of suffering seems to be a tombstone hung around our necks. Yet, in reality it is simply the weight necessary to hold the diver down while he is searching for pearls." - Julius Richter
I'll keep looking for my "pearls".
Love ya,
Cathy
Hospice was at the house every day last week, including Sunday night when he was in a lot of pain. Thank goodness for 24/7 response from that organization. The aide is going to increase her visits beginning next week. She is a God-send!
Work ordinarily would be my refuge from the home front. But, even the atmosphere at the office appears toxic these days due to a firing of a long-term associate, upcoming changes which my manager tries to keep hidden from us, and a power-hungry auditor who wants to squash us all into submission. (LOL)
So, my counselor says to look for the bright spots. Believe me, I try, but they are hard to find like a "Where's Waldo" game. Never was good at that stinkin' search and find crap. Sometimes stuff has to smack me in the face before I recognize it.
One bright spot was Valentine's Day. My darling daughter made a lovely card and necklace for me. Andrea's love and support have truly been a blessing, boosting me up. She's seen me at my worst, too, like last week when I couldn't stop crying because I thought I hurt Sophie.
Sophie had crawled into the dishwasher when I wasn't looking. I slammed the rack back into the machine and was shocked to hear the kitten shriek and bolt from the dishwasher. Oh, she was ok, but I think it was the "last straw" in a horrible day for me. I cried as I held poor Sophie, her black fur sopped up some big tears. Rather confused by it all, Sophie is and was fine and hasn't crawled into the dishwasher since.
And then there's my sewing...do I ever relish my time in the sewing room. I finished piecing the wedding quilt and the mystery quilt for my church's quilting club. In addition, I made great progress with the blocks for "Buckeye Bouquet". I hope to get the wedding quilt on the frame by the weekend. I've also been asked to donate a lap quilt to the company's Fine Arts Fund week auction. Thank goodness for flimsies all ready! They do serve a purpose.
I've also gotten into the habit of reading a bit each night before going to sleep. It's also my prayer time. Honestly, I look forward to that spot of time every night.
Today I read this:
"The burden of suffering seems to be a tombstone hung around our necks. Yet, in reality it is simply the weight necessary to hold the diver down while he is searching for pearls." - Julius Richter
I'll keep looking for my "pearls".
Love ya,
Cathy
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