Saturday, November 14, 2009Tonight's picture features Mattie with our cat, Patches. Mattie loved Patches. However, they had a rocky start together, but I have no doubt they learned a lot from each other. As a toddler, Mattie would chase and pull Patches tail. He had moments where he was down right mean to her. Patches however, was forever patient, never tried to scratch Mattie or even hiss at him, despite the treatment she received. She just put up with it. It took many, many months to teach Mattie how to care for a cat, the importance of being nurturing and gentle, and how to respect an animal friend. Not every cat would have dealt with such toddler behavior so well, which is why I have great patience for Patches now in her own time of need. She is quite sick, needs care, and a lot of medical attention. I have noticed that she is looking around the house for Mattie, smells his things, and I found her sitting in his room last night. If it is possible for a cat to look perplexed, then I would say Patches is perplexed by the lack of Mattie's presence. I can relate, so we are in good company with each other.
Poem of the day: I Loved You So by Diana Whitton
I think of you and start to cry,
It breaks my heart that you had to die.
Your final days were filled with pain,
But never once did you complain.
I miss you so with all my heart,
But I know we'll never be apart.
I'll always have memories of you and me,
With lots of pictures of you to see.
Your Angel came down and took you away,
Even though our family wanted you to stay.
Your pain is gone...it is no more,
It's time to spread your wings to soar.
I know it was your time to go,
But, always remember...I loved you so.
Today was another tough day, in what seems like a whole line of other tough days we have had, and will continue to have. I think I associate weekends with family time. After all on Saturdays and Sundays, our main focus was usually Mattie. With his absence, the weekend becomes a daunting abyss to me. In addition to the lack of structure, I find that my energy level is just very low. It is hard to imagine that just months ago, I was up at all hours of the day and night. I slept for maybe three hours each day, and yet functioned, and functioned well as I cared for Mattie. There is a big difference from where I was then to where I am now. Currently I tire easily, I can't really do many activities without physically and emotionally being exhausted. I realize these are all the by-products of months of intense stress and of course grief. But despite understanding the reasoning for the symptoms, it is still a feeling that seems not only uncomfortable to me, but also a feeling and fear that I will never pull out of this state.
Peter and I went to Michael's (Ann's son) Lego League competition today. I had never heard of such a competition until Ann introduced me to it this week. It was fascinating today to be in a room filled with a bunch of children who were equally excited about Legos as Mattie was. This event would have been right up Mattie's alley. In fact, I could picture him there today. There wasn't anything in particular about today's competition that upset me per se. Nonetheless, as I was there I could feel myself feeling more and more uneasy and shutting down. As I always try to find reasons for my feelings, there wasn't anything I could easily pinpoint. Other than I felt simply and utterly depressed. Mainly because I can't relate to the real world anymore, I can't appreciate the fun and activities others participate in anymore, and I miss what my life used to look like. I guess I also know that I will never be able to go back, and I so miss my former ignorance and innocence which existed prior to the devastation left by cancer. My head was spinning with emotions today, and Peter sensed that we had to leave early before the Lego competition was over, because I wasn't talking. Never a good sign for me, because typically I have something to say about most things. In fact, I did not say anything through the entire ride home. It would be easy to say that I should just avoid these kinds of events. But in all reality, it doesn't take an event for me to feel this way. This feeling can arise anywhere, at any time, at any place.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in bed today. Between my mood and fighting off a cold, this seemed like the best place for me. This evening, Peter and I met up with Alison (our team Mattie fund coordinator and our director of communications), her husband Kyle, Ann, and Dr. Bob. Alison treated Peter to a very lovely and generous dinner for his birthday. I think Peter felt very special tonight, and truly enjoyed the opportunity to spend this time with friends who have been with us intensely for the past year. Peter and I consider ourselves very fortunate to have such good friends who continue to support us and look out for us emotionally. I assure you, they have their work cut out for them.
I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I think what you said in your blog is so important; when you believe that a doctor has an incorrect diagnosis or you have additional information it is critical that you speak up. If the doctor is secure in themselves and their abilities, they will welcome your input as a partner in discovering the cause of the problem and the correct treatment. If not, it is time to find a new physician. I am so glad the doctor you saw yesterday was someone who like Dr Snyder seems to understand that medicine is an art of caring for the whole person. I am grateful that you and Peter are bridging the "pain divide"caused by Mattie's death; it is difficult to talk about grief with a spouse especially if you grieve differently or are in different "places" in the process but it is so critical to one's marriage to keep those lines of communication open and used! For today remember you are stronger together than apart."
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