Sunday, August 8, 2010

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Tonight's picture was taken in February of 2009! This picture captures Mattie! Mattie was a leader and a take charge kind of guy. Anna, Mattie's physical therapist, and I were trying to motivate him to do his exercises. But you can see in the end who landed up working and doing the therapy.... Anna and I! You just have to laugh over this picture. Mattie eventually did his therapy, but we all had to prove ourselves in his eyes first. Fortunately Anna is an incredibly patient, loving, and competent therapist, who understood Mattie's physical and emotional needs. I do believe that if Mattie's case hadn't become terminal, Anna would have gotten Mattie to walk in some shape or form again. She was determined and always helped to normalize things for me, which I needed greatly!

Poem of the day: Captain Mattie by Charlie Brown


Captain Mattie, our little boy
How much we wanted to see
You have the fun and unbridled joy
Of having one dream come to be
But alas we all waited too long
And so it was not to be
Death had begun his sad song
And you were preparing to leave
Every time I see that picture
I am drawn back to that place
Where you were just a little boy
And a race was just a race.

Today marks the 11th month that Mattie has been gone from our lives. Some how this week, was the big week of anniversaries. August 5, 2009, was the day Mattie's situation became terminal, August 6, 2008, was the day we learned that Mattie's cancer had metastatized to other bones, and now August 8, 2010, marks the 11th month of Mattie's death. Seems like a lot to absorb in one week not to mention a lot to absorb in a lifetime.

I am happy to report that I have turned a corner and have re-entered the land of the living. The beauty of antibiotics! I was quite ill yesterday and my cough was so severe, that Peter wanted to take me to the emergency room. From coughing intensely for an entire day, I am all aches and pains today. Every muscle hurts and my ribs are tender. None the less, it is a good feeling to be able to move out of bed and to even sit outside today. In many ways, I feel that Mattie's cancer and death have aged me, and I no longer feel like my current age. I seem to be much more fragile these days and having back to back or recurrent illnesses seem to just take a great deal out of me not only physically but psychologically. When I am completely zapped of energy my greatest fear is that I will never be able to heal and be normal again. Certainly not very rational, but I view this as a direct effect of surviving cancer.

I went to bed last night with a fever and chills. Because I couldn't get comfortable, and was in search of extra pillows in our home. I went right to Mattie's bed and took his pillows and even pulled a blanket from his room to use. The blanket I pulled was his Speed Racer one, a blanket I purchased for him the day before he started chemotherapy. It is a fleece type of blanket, and I wanted him to have something soft and cozy. Because the Hospital was frigid, and I was always cold, Mattie and I shared that blanket many a day and night. I haven't slept well in about two weeks, yet last night, though somewhat restless, I actually slept. It was a real first! I attribute this peace to the power of Mattie's blanket! I am sure that may not make any sense, but nothing in grief makes sense sometimes. It is simply a feeling.

I managed to get out of bed today, and caught up on some paperwork I have had to do, and even spent some time out in our garden. Clipping, weeding, and reshaping flowers. It was nice to be able to do the simple things today, because based on yesterday, I wasn't sure I was even going to be able to go on our beach trip on Thursday.

I received a beautiful e-mail yesterday from Mattie's art teacher, Debbie. Many of you may recall that Mattie created Mr. Sun in Debbie's studio. Debbie wanted me to know the following: "Three nights ago I had a vivid dream about Mattie. We were in an enormous house that I could not recognize. There was no furniture. Mattie was zooming around the room and holding his arms straight out to his sides and flapping them like wings. He was smiling and laughing. I could not hear any sound but I could see how free and happy he is. He came close to me and hugged me more than once. Each time I told him to go to you. You were there. I hope he will soon visit you in such a dream if he has not already. I feel great comfort in dreams. I wish that comfort to be felt by you." Debbie is correct, I have not had a dream of Mattie coming to me, much less even a dream suggesting that he is okay. So when I received a message like this, in a way it brings a smile to my face. Perhaps I am just cut off, too hurt, and too overwhelmed to be able to receive such a message from Mattie right now. But I hope Debbie's dream is in some way is Mattie's way of communicating to me and to those he loves.

I would like to end tonight's posting with two messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "That picture of Mattie as Captain Mattie reminds me of how so many people moved quickly to try to give Mattie his dream of being a ship's captain and how disappointed we all were on his behalf when he was unable to take advantage of any of the offers. Although it did not work out, those efforts stand as a testament to the caring nature of the majority of people who will jump to do a good turn for someone else who they don't even know. Those are the moments that give me hope for all of us. Our relationships with our bodies are interesting and sometimes difficult to comprehend for although we assume that our minds and bodies are intimately connected, those links can become fragile or severed. Physical trauma often lies at the base of this but it can be mental or emotional trauma and I would say that what you went through for over a year with Mattie's diagnosis and treatment qualifies. In a sense you have to reintroduce your mind to your body and reconnect those links which have grown rusty from disuse. Another issue is that the body can hold emotional memories that the mind has forgotten. In order to mend you have to have all the pieces available to you. Go slowly, be patient, but since you are not feeling well and are disinclined to be out socially right now, this might be a good time to start. One place to start could be the tensing and relaxing of your muscles (progressive relaxation) starting at your feet and working up to your head. if you ry this and this causes sadness or tears, or even laughter, don't worry as it means that the body is holding the memories for your mind and this crossover of emotions between the mind and the body often happen in the process of reconnection. Regardless of what you choose to do today, I hope you begin to heal from your illness. I hold you gently in my thoughts."

The second message is from my friend and colleague, Nancy. Nancy wrote, "Today marks 11 months since Mattie died and is the 2nd anniversary of my Mom's death so we are eternally connected. I agree with Charlie that you both need a way to strengthen your immune systems. I understand how hard it is to find the rhythm again when your heart is broken. Finding the path back to life before a trauma requires great fortitude. This is often difficult when emotions are so compromised. I know that you are due to go away again this Thursday and hope that you will be able to relax this time. Just a thought, to create a visual for yourself allowing a peaceful and strengthening visit. Possibly, you can focus on the water and the calm of the retreat as you awake these next few mornings. Allow yourself to picture the blue of the water and a clearing sky. Maybe the sun is shining warmly on your face and see yourselves walking along the beach feeling the sand between your toes. I send you healing wishes and pray for your power and energy to return soon."