Sunday, July 31, 2022

8:46 PM

Hello, thank you for accompanying us! (Not proof read! thanks for figuring out what I'm trying to say if it's not clear.)

  I was alone with Larry most of today. No dialysis today, but will have for 3 hrs. again tomorrow. Still not 100% off of oxygen. Resting more without coughing so hard & so often. Several attempts, asking Larry to open his eyes, before he would try. When he did, he managed to open them wide enough for me to see his pupils. He only stares straight ahead. I felt for a couple seconds, that he did look my way, but it may have been wishful thinking. No response all day, from asking him to squeeze my hand. Half an hour before leaving, I said "It sure would be nice Honey, if you squeezed my hand just once, before I go!" Tadaaaaa! It was so lovely, he firmly squeezed 3 times. It's so hard to imagine what he's thinking. I know from people who have been extremely ill, that they could only focus on maybe taking their next breath & unable to think or be emotional about anything, needing all of their energy to make it to the next minute.

 I wrote down 'important' information on a paper that I taped to the wall behind Larry's bed. With each new nurse & sometimes doctors I have to tell them that Larry has no peripheral vision on his right side & that he is very hard of hearing. They learn that he is 'Santa' (& melt when they see his photo), that he sings & plays guitar, that he's addicted to fly fishing, that he spent 35 yrs as a therapist at GF Strong, that he is kind, gentle & lots of fun. And very important, that he took excellent care of me last year through our journey with cancer. Today, one of the nurses spoke of the beautiful letters I posted on the board, from the residents at Luke 15 (recovery) house, telling Larry how much he means to them. Staff express appreciation for the opportunity to know the man behind the silent patient that they are caring for. It makes me smile, as a few have said how lovely & kind Larry is, without ever having heard him speak. I think that the love that comes into Larry's room from each one who visits, is a witness to the loving & good man that he is.

 Last night I reviewed each blog since Larry's stroke on July 1st as it gets harder to remember what happened & when, during his first round in ICU at RCH. I made a rough calendar today to mark down significant changes including his moves from one hospital to another and units within each. I'll post the calendar when I make it more clear on the computer. Interestingly, today a nurse asked me to walk her through Larry's last month, as best I could. It would have been mumble jumble if I hadn't jotted it down.

 The social worker today that has 'taken care' of us since the first full day at Surrey Memorial, came to have a chat. She sure knows what questions to ask, to make sure I/we are being properly informed & understand what is happening. She also is a great listener, especially if she hears in my words, that I was not happy with the way (only once) someone has spoken with us. 

 I am so cared for, by friends & family. I could not be more blessed or express my gratitude for the love that is carrying me/us. I tell Larry each day about each act of kindness toward me. One of the prayers that I prayed aloud, today with Larry was that the two of us were offering our suffering for the gift of peace & healing for so many family, friends & others we have been asked to pray for, who are suffering in so many different ways. From little children to the elderly & many in between. We also offered it for the suffering of people who are persecuted around the world, and refugees, and for government leaders to step up to the plate and act from a place of goodness, compassion and life giving truth.

 I slept well again last night, so thank you for your care & concern, which give me peace to rest well. Xoxo

 I thought I was finished, but a 'big' thing happened to me today. When I was at Mass this morning, I began to feel weak & almost faint. This has often happened since my cancer treatments. Larry has always been my great protector. Not sure if in part, it's his background helping disabled people, but for the past while, it's as though he knows it's happening before I do. When we are out, he is always beside me and grabs my arm if he thinks I'm unsteady on my feet or feeling woozy. Today, when I began feeling light headed, Larry didn't do what had become so automatic for almost a year. I dropped to my seat & started to sob (like I'm doing right now). It took a while to calm myself, then I was OK.

It's the most upset I've become since Larry's surgery. I was composed when I left the church & waited outside, to speak to a dear friend/buddy of Larry's. Then, the look from 12 ft. away, from one of the sweetest, gentlest, caring people I have ever encountered. Her name could easily be 'Compassion'! Trying not to make eye contact, didn't work. When I started to crumble, she came to me, accompanied by 2 other close friends. I know I need to release the pain that builds inside my heart. I am grateful that it happened today in such a safe and loving environment. 

  Now, I'm off to bed. Good night. God bless you. xox