Short version: met the man of my dreams in 2012, introduced by our mutual best friend. Blissful bliss was blissful. In Jan 2015 he was diagnosed with a very aggressive strain of lung cancer. He was a 30 year smoker, so there are no doubts as to the cause. Anyways, surgery, chemo, radiation. Two weeks of quiet ensued in late August, and then we discovered it had metastasized to the brain. Brain surgery last September, marriage in October, couple months of wonderful normal married life before it metastasized again, this time to his spine. Surgery on New Year's Eve last year followed by a pretty much nonstop decline. He was in one of my nursing homes for the last 6 weeks. The cancer gave him dementia, which was really rough. He died on April Fool's Day, 4/1/16, at the age of 48.
It was both the worst and the best experience I have ever had. It brought us SO much closer to one another, and the quality of life we had was just incredible, even as his health declined. I was in charge of managing his health care from the start, and he wanted for absolutely nothing. I was his Valkyrie, and I made sure he got to Valhalla in no pain.
I miss him a lot, of course, but I know I did absolutely everything for him that I could, so I have no regrets whatsoever. I also know without any doubt in my mind that there's already a place in Valhalla for me when it's my time.
Interestingly, the skillset I built to ensure he got the quality medical care he deserved meant that I now have the perfect skillset to become an activist fighting against the new political regime here in the US. I find this hilarious. He would, too.
It's been 6 months, and most of the time now, life is good, with only the occasional rough patch. I inherited his (black) cat, Astrid, and she helps a lot.
Gotta go, it's time to make some phone calls to my senators to tell them I want them to obstruct Trump's scariest cabinet choices. :)
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It was both the worst and the best experience I have ever had. It brought us SO much closer to one another, and the quality of life we had was just incredible, even as his health declined. I was in charge of managing his health care from the start, and he wanted for absolutely nothing. I was his Valkyrie, and I made sure he got to Valhalla in no pain.
I miss him a lot, of course, but I know I did absolutely everything for him that I could, so I have no regrets whatsoever. I also know without any doubt in my mind that there's already a place in Valhalla for me when it's my time.
Interestingly, the skillset I built to ensure he got the quality medical care he deserved meant that I now have the perfect skillset to become an activist fighting against the new political regime here in the US. I find this hilarious. He would, too.
It's been 6 months, and most of the time now, life is good, with only the occasional rough patch. I inherited his (black) cat, Astrid, and she helps a lot.
Gotta go, it's time to make some phone calls to my senators to tell them I want them to obstruct Trump's scariest cabinet choices. :)
Hugs to you and Wolverine Nun too!
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