The Gift

A little while ago I went home for a few hours and I wasn’t sure what to expect.  In some ways I was looking forward to going home and in others I was dreading it.  I walked through the door into the breezeway and the first thing I saw was Wes’ phone, still plugged in on the little side table there.  I didn’t bother turning to look at the other table that sat across the room because I knew it would still have everything laying there exactly like he had left it the day before he came here.  That had always been ‘his’ table.  The one he would put his wallet, keys and lunch kit on when he’d come home from working at Janzen’s.  I couldn’t force myself to turn around and look at it; it would be too hard right now.  I walked up the stairs into our main living area and looked around the house sadness tugging at my heart.  This no longer felt like home.  It was strange how quickly that hit me.  It felt empty and lifeless because he wasn’t there and I knew I didn’t want to spend too much time here without him right now.  I noticed his watch and wedding ring and the first round of tears came so I kept moving clutching the little pile of mail that Nic had brought me at the hospital.  I walked to the office and laid the stack of bills down in front of the computer.  I would get the checks for these bills written up as quick as possible so I didn’t have to stay.  

All our married life Wes has been the caregiver, the strong one, the one who with the common sense (yeah, I know that didn’t surprise you!),  he wasn’t one to allow emotion to rule his decisions, ever.  That used to drive me crazy!  I wanted him to make a quick decision and that was not going to happen.  He would think long and hard before he would decide anything.  He knew how to use humor to pull me out of a bad mood.  Our house was often filled with laughter.  He loved living out in the country, he loved his space away from people.  He enjoyed the quiet and the tranquil atmosphere of the farm.  We loved being alone out there, just the two of us. Empty-nesting was as good as everyone said it was!  No offense to our boys - lol

He was my security and I always knew no matter what happened he would be there for me. And I also know that if our roles would be reversed, he would be doing for me exactly what I’m doing for him right now and much more. 

Because Wes is struggling more and more every day physically, he needs more help, more than I can physically give him.  So, I'll say it again, the nursing staff here is phenomenal!  So, because the tumors are located on the left side of his brain, his right side is being affected and is not working like it should, so he’s off balance and weak.  There are times when I hear him struggling at night to shift in bed, so I’ll get up to help him turn over and to make sure he’s completely covered with a blanket because those simple tasks are no longer easy for him.  Because he's lost a lot of muscle mass due to the steroids, he's colder than he would normally be so to keep him covered is important. Most of the time I feed him his meals because even eating expends energy he does not have right now.   Swallowing has become a bit more difficult.  He prefers the room bright when he’s eating, but, as dark as possible and completely quiet the rest of the time so he can rest and his mind doesn’t have to work so hard.  Sometimes, although rarely, he has a hard time falling asleep, those are times when I know he's thinking about something, maybe worried about something and most times I've been able to figure out what he's worried about and assure him it's being taken care of.  But, when he does sleep, day or night, he sleeps very deeply.  And he still loves.  His grandbabies were here for a short while yesterday evening and he couldn’t stop watching them.  He still responds when Tina and the boys tell him they love him.  He still smiles and holds my hand to his heart when we are alone.  He still shakes his head and smirks when I make a bad joke.  Yes, he still loves.

My time of taking from him is done; my time to provide for his needs is here and now.  And every day that I get to wake up and express my love for him in the only way I have left, well, that’s a gift to me.