October 9

 

Bad night followed by a laid-back day. Very low energy. I phoned Ren's oldest friend to let him know. Nice man. He was saddened. He said he’s known Ren since elementary school. Ren’s passing reminded him of his own mortality, as it does many of us. My lovely English Cousin called too, to ask how I was doing and to send his love to all the family. His wife spoke to me too, of course. Son-in-law is in Germany by now to surprise his father for his 80^th birthday.

The mortuary is making clerical errors that have me worried about whether or not they will cremate the right body when it is Ren’s turn on Wednesday! Cards from relatives and good friends continue to arrive. Bless everyone who took the time. It all helps.

One or more of the children have been with me every day and night since Ren left. I’m beginning to feel like I need some time alone. I want to process Ren’s death, his absence from my life, the hollow he leaves behind. Someone here almost constantly is distracting. I want to mourn in my own way, in my own time, without stifling or hiding my reactions/feelings because I’m under worried observation. I don't want to upset my children any more than they already are. 

I have to find a way to tell them to resume their normal lives without seeming ungrateful for their concern and help.

 

More Sorting

Today the focus was again on Ren’s books, both on the bookshelves and in his office. They include binders with notes from his 1963 City College classes and a binder of his lecture notes. All are obsolete now, so we tossed them.

Son 2 turned in my father’s BB pistol to the BPD at my request. (Son 3 had taken Ren’s rifles and pistol earlier.)

Son 2 bought more flowers and wine today, and daughter 2 went to an architecture conference in downtown LA. Son 1 called.

Daughters 1 & 2, Son 2 and I had dinner at Centanni. Memories of Ren, as he and I ate there a couple of weeks ago. The proprietor expressed condolences, and I controlled the urge to cry. 

Nice dinner. Afterwards we came back home and chatted. We will have an open house for friends and family and the cousins who want to come. Must figure out who to invite, and food and drink.

I am beginning to feel Ren’s absence. It’s beginning to sink in on a cellular level that he’s not coming back. I am still somewhat numb, and I dread the emptiness that I will inevitably feel, the companionship lost, a like-mind to mesh with. 

How will I manage to rebuild my life?

 

October 6

 

Several times today I found myself thinking, “I’ll have to tell Ren about this.” Or “Ren and I would enjoy watching that.” And so it begins, the giant hole he’s left behind following me around.

We’ve (with daughter 2 and son 2) finished clearing out the worst mess in his office and the books off his bookshelf. I am realizing what a lot of interests he had: The Classics from the ancient coin interest; the wagon migrations to the American West from interest in his great-grandfather; the American Civil War, and of course, World War II. He was also interested in the American West in general, and he was fascinated by various great men in history, like Winston Churchill. 

He also admired and read about artists like Michelangelo and Da Vinci and Modigliani. We have membership in the Getty, the Norton Simon, and Los Angeles County Art museums, as well as the Huntington Library, the Descanso Gardens and the California Eastern Sierra Museum, and the Mono Lake Committee. All of these were driven by Ren and his love of art and nature. 

The other side of this was his ongoing interest in computers, electronics, trains, and four-wheel driving, as well as traveling. 

I will miss him, his companionship, his sharing of jokes, and our laughter about the absurdities of life. 

What will I do without him? 

How will I manage to enjoy life without imposing on my children

 

Email to Writer’s Group

Hi Ladies,
I'm sorry to tell you that Ren died last Saturday, Oct 1, at 10 pm. It was far quicker than we expected, actually quicker than the hospice expected. Luckily all five of my kids were here that day, and we were all gathered around his bedside as he slowly slipped away. He was not in pain, but that day he didn't communicate with any of us, so we're not sure how aware he was. Despite that, we acted as if he was very aware, and one or more of us kept rotating in to talk to him, stroke his arms, and generally let him know he was not alone. And luckily there was no day-nurse (staffing problems), so it was just family at the end. Absolutely heart-breaking, but being together made it easier. Just as he passed, the doorbell rang, and the night nurse showed up. She confirmed his death and took over making the right phone calls.

My children have kept up a rotation of presence in my house, day and night, since his passing. This has kept me from thinking and sinking into any funk. I got them to start sorting out all of Ren's books while they've been here. My son the lawyer, accompanied me to the mortuary to settle details there. That was very helpful. According to Ren's adamant request, there will be no funeral. However, the family will gather at his niche when they place his urn inside. We're thinking about having an open house, but we haven't confirmed that yet.

So, needless to say, you guys will have plenty of time to write before our next meeting. I'll have to see how things go and how ready I am to resume regular activities once the kids resume their normal lives and I am by myself. Being an optimist, I imagine I might bounce a couple of times, but I will survive.

thanks always for your support,
Mary

Phantom Husband

Wednesday October 5, 2022

So. Ren is gone. Not gone fishing, nor hunting, nor to a conference, nor camping, nor to some hussy. He’s not off to lunch with friends. Nor has he gone to his Fishing Club or his Art Club. He’s not taking photos for the Art Club website, or at Blicks buying supplies for his latest painting. He’s not at Galpin Ford waiting for our car, nor at the carwash or store. Nope. He’s gone for good. He has no phone, no computer, no magic watch. He can’t call home, nor answer my call. He’s gone, gone for good.

They say when you lose a limb you feel it still. It’s called a phantom limb. I have a phantom husband.

At night he’s with me in bed. I turn over and see the shape of his head on the pillow next to me. And then he’s gone. I pass his office and the shirt on his chair is filled. He works still at his computer. I turn my head to ask him a question, but he’s gone. I look for him in his arm chair, at his chair at the table where we ate so many meals, made so many plans, but he’s faded away. I feel him next to me as I watch television, but when I turn to laugh with him he’s gone. And yet. He lingers still.

I feel him in the walls where his paintings hang. I know him in his office filled with his debris—his pens, his glasses, his canvases, his photos, his books, his paints, his ham radio, his computer and printer, and paintbrushes, and tools.

But. I can’t touch him or hold him, nor laugh with him or grump at him. I can’t kiss him or look him in the eye. He’s gone.

What will I do?

 

Everyday Life Continues

September 10, 2022

At Labor Day we had a lovely birthday weekend for Ren. The adult children were all here, as were those grandchildren who are not in university yet. (The others had visited earlier in August, before they left—except for a granddaughter studying in Switzerland.) Some of the family who had not seen him recently, were shocked by how ill Ren looks. However, he enjoyed seeing everyone and was able to stay up and awake during their visit. It was a treat for both of us.

We had also had dinner out with two sets of friends in August. In mid-August we had a cheerful dinner with a coworker of mine who is married to a jeep/camping/hunting buddy of Ren's. We went to The Smokehouse, a favorite of Ren's. He couldn't eat much but did drink his usual Manhattan. On his actual birthday, August 31, we met friends of many years at his favorite BBQ restaurant. I had to drop him off at the door where he waited with a walking stick until I had parked the car. He walks slowly now, but was able to make it inside without a rest. Although Ren couldn't eat much, he did order dessert. When it arrived, we all sang Happy Birthday with a candle in his ice cream. He did enjoy that.

All of us were well aware it would be his last birthday.

I worry about Ren's alcohol consumption. His cancer has spread to his liver. The doctor said, besides the original tumors, he had noted there are more that are “differentiated.” Those are more aggressive. So what does this mean for Ren’s overall day-to-day life, I wonder? He not only continues to drink, but he has increased his alcohol intake from one or two drinks a week, to almost daily. He also had me joining him, until I realized sometimes drinking made me feel ill. I found the courage not to feel guilty about not joining him. So now I have a light gin and tonic with him once in a while at home and a glass of wine if drinking while we’re dining out. Since I drive us everywhere, I have to make sure, that I am stone cold sober when I leave the restaurant. So usually my wine still has a couple of ounces left in the glass when we leave. Better to waste it than to drive wasted!

But I wonder if the increased alcohol consumption is contributing to Ren’s stomach upsets and perhaps his insomnia. If his liver is already compromised with tumors, how is it handling filtering the alcohol? Is this causing the increase in nausea and bowel problems? Isn’t it better to be sober than ill? He enjoys a drink or two, and I don’t begrudge him that, but I don’t want him to suffer needlessly either. But I can only advise and cannot control him. Nor do I want to!

 It is hard to know when to help and when to let him struggle to manage by himself. For instance: when he is trying to get up out of a restaurant booth, he feels badly when he cannot do it by himself. I stand by ready to help, but choosing to know when to step in and when to hold back is tricky. Sometimes he snaps at me when I ask him if he needs help, especially when the answer is yes. He is just angry with himself and his helplessness. I know that. And I try not to let his bad temper get to me. It does remind me of some reactions I saw from his mother though, and that triggers big time annoyance on my part which I have to choke back.  

It is awfully hard to watch my dear husband hang his head as he sits in his chair at home; or watch him walk with back bent, head down, gingerly making his way across the room. Or sit up in his chair with his eyes closed for minutes at a time--not sleeping, just "thinking". He wants to fight this thing, but he often seems wearied with the fight.

 

Chemo, ctd.

September 10, 2022

After five months of one chemo the PSA levels were rising. The doctor gave him a "treatment break" and the PSA levels shot up. He then started on another kind of chemo. At first the levels rose even more, but Ren went ahead with the second dose anyway. The side effects were just as bad or worse. Just as Ren decided he'd had enough, blood tests showed the levels had dropped. So he had a third infusion of this same chemo, and we will wait to see what the blood tests show next week. If they don’t drop significantly, Ren says again he will stop all treatment. 

The doctor mentioned Ren is in Stage 4 Prostate Cancer. Interesting to know the actual stage. (How many stages are there? I didn't think to ask.) He also said if treatment stops, Ren has less than six months to live. The treatment would perhaps give him a couple of more months. The question we all ask: Is two extra months or so worth the side effects? Christmas is just over four months away. If he stops treatment, will he make it until then? If he continues with the chemo he might see in the New Year.

Ren asked the doctor about the medication for ending his own life. The doctor described the process and told him that he has to be cognizant enough to take it himself. If anyone gave them to him, it would be considered murder. The doctor also emphasized that Ren is always in charge. He told Ren he could always order the meds and just keep them in his “back pocket,” and not use them until he was absolutely sure.

I have also told Ren he is in charge--of all of his health decisions. I will honor whatever he decides. I love him dearly and cannot imagine life without him. But. As much as I want him to live, it is agonizing to see him suffer like this for no good result. Endless days of misery is a terrible way to end one’s life. If it were me, I would want to end it quickly rather than linger and let my family watch me deteriorate. However, that is something I won't share with him. It has to be his decision. 

Early on in this saga he told me, "I don't want to die." I don't want that either.