Friday, July 1, 2011

Friday, July 1, 2011

Tonight's picture was taken in August of 2007 during our trip to Coronado, CA. In fact, you can see the famous Coronado Bridge behind us in the picture. That was our last happy summer together, since Mattie was diagnosed with cancer in July of 2008. At the time however, it never dawned on me to truly appreciate that moment together, because I would never have it back again. We do not think about the life of a child being finite, and thankfully for many parents it isn't. Now that Mattie is gone from our lives, it has caused me to reevaluate many things and realize how taking things for granted or assuming they will always be a certain way is a BIG mistake.

Quote of the day:  I believe that imagination is stronger than knowledge -- myth is more potent than history -- dreams are more powerful than facts -- hope always triumphs over experience -- laughter is the cure for grief -- love is stronger than death. ~ Robert Fulghum


For the past two nights I haven't slept well. Prior to Mattie developing cancer, I never had one issue with sleeping. However, post-cancer and Mattie's death, sleeping can be difficult. I am going through one of these difficult phases again and it makes functioning during the day impossible. I had the opportunity to meet with my friend Alison today for lunch. Some of my faithful blog readers may remember that Alison was instrumental to Team Mattie, as our director of communications and also the manager of Mattie's fund. Despite the march of time and the fact that in September of this year Mattie will be gone from our lives for TWO years, Alison understands that time is irrelevant. That the pain and the loss will always be a part of my life. This is indeed correct, and therefore talking with a friend who grasps that concept right from the beginning helps tremendously. As I told Alison, the second year of grief is almost worse, if possible, than the first. By the second year, the true magnitude of the loss hits you but the only difference is you are left to face these thoughts and feelings alone. Since the majority of one's network by this point has moved on and has refocused on other priorities in their lives. All understandable and I get that, but nonetheless, the feelings of isolation and not fitting in have become more pronounced.

Later this afternoon, I went to visit Ann's mother, Mary. As Mary's disease progresses and begins to take over her body and her mind, the care she needs begins to change. It is challenging to see her rapid decline in just a matter of two years, and tonight was one of the nights in which she was trapped inside of her body and unable to communicate verbally. Fortunately I have gotten to know Mary well enough to know her routine, her likes and dislikes, and to track her eyes and other sounds. I could sense Mary's frustration tonight and tried to alleviate her worries by telling her that perhaps after a good night's sleep, she will be able to chat with me tomorrow. With caregiving, it is a one day at a time philosophy. No two days ever look the same, which is what makes the role of caring for a sick family member or friend so challenging. However, I have learned that instilling hope is crucial to a patient at any age. The last time I met with my friend, Christine, she told me if she ever got sick, she wanted me to take care of her and handle the situation. She likes my bed side manner, but also my ability to manage people in a crisis situation. After leaving Mary's room tonight, I reflected on Christine's comments which have stayed with me since she said them, because I agree with Christine, not everyone is cut out to be a caregiver of someone chronically or terminally ill.