A New Challenge

After Gerry's stomach surgery last year, he had to use a feeding at night to deliver enough nutrition to his altered body. They sent us home with a pump, boxes of food supplement, syringes, sterile water, tape, etc. We had been given a course on utilizing the pump, cleanliness, etc., etc. So, for almost every night since February 22 last year, I have connected the tube and everything that goes with it, and every morning, I have disconnected it. I said "almost every morning" since for periods of time, he tried to go without the feeding but could never quite eat enough to keep his tall, muscular body going.
We came home from the hospital yesterday after spending eleven days there. I now have a new challenges ahead of me. Gerry is on an antibiotic that is administered intravenously. Since he has a PICC line (this is a 42 cm. line that enters his body on his upper arm and is threaded through his circulatory system, terminating in his aorta), I, yes I said "I" am going to mix his drug, put it in an IV bag, hook it up to a pump, connect the tubing to his PICC line and run the drug into his body. I had training on how to do it. I know I can do it, but I do it today for the first time and there are a million little steps so I am a bit, er, tentative. Sister Carol is going to come out and assist with moral support.
I don't like having to do these things but I am glad I can do it so Gerry can be where he wants to be, HOME.
When he went to the hospital on February 16 he was on 20 mg of painkiller twice a day. He is now on 80 mg twice a day....not a good sign.

Gloves? What for?

When Jen and Wayne moved back to the Island from Sussex, Gerry thought buying Lloyd's old house for them to live in was a great idea. So that is what happened. It had been built in about 6 different stages through the years so was all pieced up. In succeeding years, Gerry put it on a new poured concrete foundation, put in a cement floor in the basement, "squared off" the house by building additions to it, put new siding on it, put in a new chimney, etc. His strong and dirty hands were a testament to his hard work. He had a vision for the old house which sat on a beautiful lot with mature trees on Rayner Creek Road. He had planned on renovating the inside completely. It was all cut up and he had a vision in his head to gut out the bottom floor, redesign it and rebuilt it; something that Gerry had done many times before. He was a "doer". In fact, a former employer of his said to me this week, that while other people were thinking about what to do with a problem, Gerry had it DONE.
As time and his disease progressed, he said that he would have to hire a couple of men to help him. As more time passed he said he would oversee it and the men would do it. Finally, we hired men to do it. The work started this week as he lies in the hospital bed. Jen and I have never had to pay anyone before to do carpenter work for us. We took Gerry for granted. He just did it.
I took pictures of the renos today and showed them to him on my laptop. He so wished he could be there. He is getting out of the hospital tomorrow. I am going to administer the IV drugs at home. Yes, I know. It sounds scary and it is. He goes to Moncton on Wednesday for a nuclear medicine scan of his white blood cells.
Today, he told me he needs a pair of good work gloves. I am to go to Mark's and get him a good pair; a pair that will protect his small, lily-white hands. He has plans for his hands but I am doubtful that his body will hold them up.

A Giving Gift

Four years ago, Gerry got me a very unusual Mother's Day present. Since I love gardening and wanted to make some new flower and vegetable beds, and replenish some old, I received a tandem truckload of topsoil in the corner of our backyard. As the dump truck dumped and the red soil tumbled, I envisioned the vivid blooms and the luscious vegetables that would spring from its bountiful depth. Every summer since then I have shovelled and wheelbarrowed many loads to near and far perimeters of our yard. We have enjoyed the grace and fragrance of the Casa Blanca lilies, the rapid growth of the red oak near our driveway, the tartness of the red rhubarb and the eye closing, mouth watering taste of a freshly picked ripe tomato.
Although the pile of dirt has diminished in the last four years, there is enough for one more summer. As I spread the iron-rich loam on the ground this year, I will think, with appreciation, of one of the best gifts I have ever received.

Good Start to the Day

Gerry got up this morning and feels pretty well. He had a shower, shave, etc. and was lying down when I left. His sis-in-law, Irene, is going in for a bit while I do some things home. We still don't have a date for his Gallium scan or his aortal scan so until we get results from them, we are in the hospital. His mind is very clear today, so that is great! I feel like I am talking to a regular person!!
He said today how blessed and loved he feels to have me there all the time. That makes it all worth while.

A Hospital Room-An Extension of Home

Gerry's hospital room has become an extension of our home.
Every day I go home and and head back to the hospital toting things on my list. I have a mirror, newspapers, a Martha Stewart Living magazine. There is a great recipe in it for "Raspberry Custard Pie". I am not sure when I will be able to make it. I have Gerry's favorite pillow, movies that I play on my laptop and two Willow Tree Angels given to be by friends; the Angel of Friendship and the Angel of Hope. Today, I took back a measuring tape. Gerry thought he needed one. He has been looking at the corner cabinet that holds the television. It has shelves and a little closet. He thinks he will build one for our big TV we got at Christmas. I explained to him that I didn't think he needed a tape measure since the dimensions would all be different and he has built houses from his head before so it would not be difficult for him to duplicate a simple corner cabinet but he persisted. Well, I took the measuring tape from home and he has not mentioned it since.
How much longer will we be here? I say "we" since I have been staying here, also, about 22 hours a day. I just CAN'T leave him at nights. He is staggery and I am afraid he will get up and fall. He has two scans coming up. Depending on the results, he could be on an aggressive antibiotic for weeks. The kicker is, it can only be administered intravenously. It is called "Imependium" or something close to that! Anyway, we will cross that bridge when we come to it. When he was home he was on 20 mg of long lasting painkiller twice per day. It is now up to 70 mg twice per day. I am concerned about the need for the increase. Chemo? Not sure yet what is going on there.
Thanks to my three beautiful sisters who are here every day and bring me things I request. I can't tell you how much I appreciate all of you!

Who Are You And What Have You Done With My Husband??

Gerry thinks we are in a hotel. He wondered last night how much it would be to stay an extra night. I told him around $50 so he said we should stay since it wasn't too much.
He acts goofy in front of the nurses and it is embarrassing sometimes. I try to make eye contact with them and wink or nod. When I talk to them in the hall I tell them that he is not normally like this. He speech is garbled and his thoughts are fragmented and scattered.
He talks about building things and is constantly looking at the workmanship in his room for "straightness". Last night as he dozed off he was hammering in the air. I would love to know how many times he has wielded a hammer. It would be in the millions!
We are still trying to get his pains meds regulated. He has to go to Ch'town for a scan this week....more info to follow...

Arachnophobia

Gerry is on pain meds and he is halucinating a bit. Today he wasn't as bad. He only saw a few spiders. The highlight of the day was, whilst waiting for the oncologist, he was lying on the examining table. He was looking at the ceiling and spotted another spider. He said Look-at-the-spider! I said It-is-not-a-spider. He said Yes-it-is. I-see-it-moving. I said Gerry-it-is-a-mark-on-the-ceiling-tile. And-it-is-winter-and-it-is-the-hospital. He said IT-IS-A-SPIDER. With that, he jumped off the table, grabbed the National Geographic I was reading, got up on the table on his knees and took a swipe at the ceiling with the Amalfi Coast! All the while, the IV hooked to his PICC line strained toward the IV pole.
He never did admit it wasn't a spider. In fact, he remarked later this evening, he wanted to go back and prove to me it WAS REALLY a spider!!

The staff is working on getting his meds regulated.
KUDOS go to Carl and Donna for feeding the stove and walking the dogs.

Life in the Grouchy Lane

Remember this.
We have a wood stove in the basement. Although Gerry and I have split the blocks with the wood splitter, sometimes I need smaller pieces. Gerry HATES it when I do this because he is scared that I will cut myself with the axe and I hear him sighing upstairs and yelling "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

I don't want everyone to think that this whole experience that we are going through is all lovey-dovey, full of mushy, reflective nostalgia. Today was one of those days that Gerry really irked me.
I am not sure if it is the drugs, (Dilaudid injection every two hours) the infection in his bladder and blood, the cancer or combinations of the aforesaid mentioned but he really TRIED my nerves today.
If I pulled the curtain too far, there was a sigh and a gesture.
If I couldn't make out what he said, there was the comment, "You should have your hearing checked.".
If I moved the chair and it scraped across the floor, there was "THE LOOK".
I held my tongue. I didn't speak. I didn't give him "The stare". I didn't give him the "Silent treatment". I wanted to. BIG TIME.
I just kept thinking, "Here I am, off work, devoting my time to you, making you a priority, advocating for you, becoming more educated on your condition so I can make informed decisions and ask intelligent questions and you are giving me GRIEF?"????" Meanwhile, when visitors called, he was the perfect gentleman, laughing, joking, engaging in conversation that would befit Barak Obama and I would think, "What's up with this?" And to top it off, when I left tonight, he snidely remarked, "I suppose you are going to have a glass of wine."
"I said, "Yeah, probably." And guess what Gerry, I AM HAVING A GLASS OF WINE.
AND, I SPLIT WOOD IN THE BASEMENT TOO.....TWO BIG PIECES OF BIRCH AND I DIDN'T CUT MYSELF!
Last night I cried all the way home because I felt so bad for him
Tonight I cried all the way home because I felt bad for ME.

Strong vs Weak

As I glanced over my shoulder, tonight, at Gerry's feeble figure basking in the glow of the hospital TV, I was taken back to another time which was much different.
It was a few years ago that we decided to sell the big upright piano that Jen had, sometimes reluctantly, played. She loved music but never really enjoyed playing the piano, much to my chagrin. Since she was now on her own we chose to pass on the piano to anyone who would pay $300. We received a call and after giving our address, a half-ton drove in the yard. Expecting a crew of men to exit, we eyed a little ancient man with the money in his hand. He backed up to the front door and Gerry started to move the unmovable. The old man, at the back of the piano, held his hands on the sides as Gerry tugged with gritted teeth and grunted as sweat broke out on his brow. As the piano advanced, the older one remarked how heavy "she" was, even though he was bearing about one-tenth of the weight. The piano moved magically as I stood back giving directions. Finally, it was on the truck, parting words were said and the old man drove off, happily.
This morning, Gerry could not sit up in bed. With the help of my sisters, we got him to the hospital and he was admitted for a bladder infection. He is confused and very sick and will be in the hospital until this clears up. I am wondering about the "benefits" of chemo.
Gerry has a saying...."I have a strong back, but a weak mind." Right now the only strong thing is cancer.

Gerry the Protector

As Gerry hid in the kitchen, the man at the door knocked and mumbled.
I had been awaken minutes before to Millie's alarming bark and felt my way dwnstairs in the dark to hear someone knocking on the door. I heard a man talking to himself in drunken slang; talking about needing a drive and wanting to use the phone. I had silenced Millie and I listened, hoping he would go away. I was scared. He continued to knock so I crept silently upstairs to get Gerry. I said, "Someone is at the door and he's drunk." Gerry srpang from the bed, pulled on his jeans and was downstairs in a flash, with me behind him. He hid in the kitchen and listened to the knocking.
"I want to use the phone!" the voice said.
All of a sudden the tone changed and he said " this. I am going in!" For some unknown reason, we did not lock the door that night and he opened it and started to enter our home. Gerry, in the dark, was on him with panther like speed. He grabbed him my the collar and literally threw him on the deck. The intruder tumbled off the desk and rolled onto the lawn. I forget what Gerry was saying, but it was not, "Welcome to the Bernard home". The man got up, brushed himself off and started for the road. I could see him gersturing obscenly to Gerry and yelling uncomplimentary comments back at him but he did not offer to return!

Gerry is a fierce defender of his property and his family. I was reminded of this story last night as I spied the baseball bat under our bed.



It is now three days after chemo and Gerry is starting to feel a bit better. He has chemo a week from Monday if his bloodwork is OK.

Horse Sense

I had the occasion to go over to our barn the other day. It is now used as storage for some of Gerry's junk. It was a cold day and as I walked in my thoughts went back to years ago when we had horses in there. As I looked straight ahead, there was the stall that Whirley had. He was the quarter horse colt that cornered me one day since he did not like anyone around him when he was eating his grain. Next was Molly's stall. She was a beautiful, kind Appaloosa that I had to give penicillin shots to, to prevent infection from a bite she received the day we got her. Gerry held her head and I injected her, not willingly! And there was Queenie's stall. She was a big old Belgian that we tired to breed but whose biological clock had run out. As my mind drifted back, I saw the vapor from the horse's breath on those cold winter days, the cobwebs hanging from the windows, the flecks of hay and straw dust as they danced in the sunbeams and I heard the snorts and whinnies from the herd as they awaited their grain and hay. And the cats, they were in my mind's eye too. Their tails were held high as they meowed to be fed. And there was Gerry with his coveralls on, forking the manure into the wheelbarrow and wheeling it outside the open barn doors to the pile over and over....the sweet smell of manure filling my nostrils. We sold the horses a few years ago and their places were taken by old doors, windows, antique hand pumps and almost anything else you could mention...but they are "boring" things. Not like the horses and the sights, sounds and smells of that day.

Marg and Meds

Gerry had his second chemo treatment today. YIPPEE!! Donnie was in the chemo room too. I knew Donnie when I used to work as a casual at the Post Office in the early 80's. He was head letter carrier and I was a lowly letter sorter. I became good friends with his wife, Marg, later, though TOPS (Take Off POUNDS Sensibly). Marg is a bit older than I am (not much!) but she is the kind of person you want to be like when you grown up. She is SWEET! We had a secret heart-to-heart in the hall. We talked about how we feel guilty about being annoyed with our husbands, about how hard it is to be "there" all the time and how we yearn for our old lives. Gerry and Donnie are both receiving the same treatment for liver cancer. When Marg and I went on a trip together to Atlanta a few years back, we didn't know that we would sharing the chemo room today. It certainly would have tainted the fun we had!!
Gerry is on pain meds and I find he is uncharacteristically jolly. I am glad he is happy but the fact that it is not normal, is troubling.

Plans....

He keeps saying...TOMORROW
I am going to put the trim around those windows.
I am going to light the wood stove in the workshop.
I am going to "cork" the tub in the apartment.
I am going to put the Christmas decorations in the attic.
I appreciate everything you do for me even though I don't get the things done that I said I would.

A TWO PAXIL DAY

Gerry has lost his license..... DUI of cancer (Driving Under the Influence of Cancer)
I told him today that I don't want him driving right now. I am worried that he will not have an acceptable reaction time and that he will not make good decisions in operating a motor vehicle. I told him that I am telling him this out of concern for him and he replied that he knows I have his best interests at heart. I told him when he gets "squared around" he will be driving again.

My Experiment

My eyes have been bothering me a lot lately so I decided to do an experiment yesterday. It went like this:
Hypotheses-Tears cause one's eyes to burn after repeated exposure
Materials-Eyes and maybe tears
Procedure-Whenever I feel like crying, I will STOP and think of something fun.
Conclusion-YES, it is true. My eyes felt fine last night.

Every time yesterday, when I was cast in the pit of sadness, I thought of the EXPERIMENT. I went for a walk and saw a truck like ours go by then wondered how much more Gerry would be driving his truck. I could feel the tear bucket filling up and just before it overflowed I took a deep breath and the level went down.When I opened the freezer in the afternoon, there was a big piece of dark fruitcake, Gerry's favorite and I thought how he would hoe into that if he was well. Once again, I could feel the tingling in my eyes start but remembered the EXPERIMENT.
Last night, as I put the nightly wood in the stove, I gazed at the diminishing pile of wood that Gerry and I had split last summer, finishing it on his last day of chemo. I picked up a piece, stopped for a moment and remembered that beautiful sunny day, in the back field, Gerry hoisting the heavy logs on the splitting platform as I controlled the hydraulics that would split the log into a size more conducive for our stove to use. It was a happy, happy, day. Many days of chemo and radiation were done and he was still able to do things he wanted to do. As I thought of this, I also thought of how small his muscles are now and how white his hands are and since it was late and my experiment was over, I let the tears fall.

Chemo....NOT!

Gerry was supposed to start chemo today. He had his blood work done and his Neutrophil count was too low to have the chemo. Neutrophils are white blood cells who are specially designed to fight infections. He was not really as disappointed as I was. I didn't show it but it just seemed like another roadblock. He came home and had a rest. I went back to town and ran errands. Around 1:00, he and his buddy, Carl, went to Arsenault's Saw Mill to pick up some lumber for a wagon Carl is repairing. They unloaded it when they got home, he then visited the carpenter who is going to do Jen's renos and did a few other things. Jen, Wayne and Isaac came down for some chicken fricot and home made bread that sister-in-law, Irene, brought to us. Gerry had some home made bread and "sandwich spread" and I had TOO MUCH fricot!
As dusk descended on another day, the northeast wind brought an abundance of snow. It was another day that our family was intact.

Good Drugs

I have been missing Isaac.
I miss picking him up at the sitters and I miss the activity he creates when he is here. Although Gerry would lay down his life for him, Isaac's presence for great periods of time is not conducive to healing! So I was thrilled to have Jen, Wayne and Isaac visit last night for supper and to spend some time with us.
When they arrived, I tried to grab Isaac for a quick hug...but he ran away, spying something interesting to explore. Throughout the visit, I would endeavor to playfully grab him but, in his exuberance, he would giggle and wiggle free. Jen mentioned that he it is hard to get a cuddle from him since he is busy learning experientially!
About an hour after supper, Gerry went to get a "cup of tea" and Isaac wanted a "cuppateatoo". It has become a tradition. Gerry has his tea and Isaac has his chocolate milk or some other drink, in this case, red Gatorade. They sat side by side on the couch with their "tea" and toasted with the traditional "Cheers" chant, clicking Corel cups with vigor; Isaac more vigorous than Gerry.
It was then, that I saw my chance. I sat by Isaac and he was now positioned between Gerry and I. After one of the toasts, I gently put my arm around him and drew him near. I kissed his sweet little head and as he sipped his Gatorade. I held my lips to it for a long time. It was as if a stream of well-being transcended from his warm little fine-haired head, passed osmotically through my lips and was directed to a pleasure seeking portion of my brain. I felt great comfort. It was a drug more effective and pleasurable than anything that could be bought in the best pharmacy in the world or purchased illicitly in any dark alley of a big city. It was free and it was legal and I took a few more "hits" of it before the night was over.

Yearning For Old Times

It was heartwarming to come home from town yesterday and see the workshop door open. As I entered, there were Gerry and Carl, mounting a mail box on a stand for our new neighbor. Pungent welding smoke filled the front end of the shop as Carl adjusted his welding helmet. Gerry sat fiddling with the door on the box, trying to get it to close. They were exchanging insults. It was like just old times.

Last night Gerry's two brothers and sister came over for a game of auction. There was the usual bluffing, swearing, pounding the table and laughing. Gerry enjoyed the game but found it hard to sit for a long period of time so I had to take over once in a while. After they left, he conveyed to me that he was not feeling well at all; that he felt things were coming quick. I didn't know what to say.

After he went to bed, I was fidgeting around, something I do a lot these days. His coveralls and work jacket were laying on the washing machine. For some reason I searched the pockets. I found Kleenex in one pocket, nothing in the next, Kleenex in another and then I found what I was looking for......two nails in the left pocket of his jacket. They would be there so he could take them out with his left hand and hammer them with his right. It was a vision that gave me peace. It was just like old times.