Arms

This photo was taken of Gerry many years ago. He had just stripped a roof in Kensington. Look at the eyes.
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Gerry was always proud of the muscles in his arms. Those muscles were made of wood, gyproc and bricks. They were molded by hammering, sawing and holding. They were formed with diligence, determination and obstinance.
After Gerry's first hospitalization in February, 2008, I noticed his hands were becoming whiter and his arms were losing their muscularity. He noticed too. I said that would come back when he started working again. I said this as his watch became looser on his wrist.
As Gerry recovered from his surgery, chemotherapy and radiation, he did regain some of his muscles back. In fact, last summer, he was seen on our steep barn roof screwing tin on it. When I questioned his decision to take on such a risky task after what he had been through, his response was, "Who else is going to do it? It has to be done or the barn will rot out." His arms were getting stronger and he still could easily squeeze my hand until I "would give"! The timepiece on his arm tightened up.
As Gerry became ill again, and his days consisted of staying in bed until 11:00 AM and going back to bed at 9:00 PM and resting in between, the arms once again became feeble as they rested on the blankets. I would look at them and reflect on how he once could drive a 2 1/2 inch common nail with three hits of the hammer, how he could toss a bundle of shingles over his shoulder and climb a ladder to a rooftop like a cat and how he could fire a bale of hay into the door to the loft from the wagon down below.
The watch now rests on my dresser. I look at it. I think of the arms; those arms that were so strong that I never had to fear anyone or anything because they could move a mountain.

I am sick

I am sick.
I am wheezy.
I can't breathe very well.
I am tired.
I have no energy.
I have walking pneumonia.
I will get better.
Not like Gerry.

Gerry, CAN YOU HEAR ME?

This is a photo of the display at the funeral home. Thank-you to all who were able to attend the visiting hours, the funeral, come to the house, bring food, send cards, give donations, etc. I have been overwhelmed with your generosity.

Where is Gerry? I miss him. It has been a week now and that is long enough.

"Where are you, GERRY? Are you hiding? Your boots are still here and I have your wallet. The truck is in the yard and I have to ask people to help when I want to move heavy objects. Do you think I should get new carpet in Clayton and Jenna's apartment? And, oh yes, Jen and Wayne, have run into some problems with the renovations and we need your opinion. Your "Little Buddy" is growing a lot and talking more every day. You should hear him! When are you coming back? I have to much to tell you!"

Comforting Words

Last Saturday, Gerry experienced very few moments of lucidity but one of those moments will stand out prominently in my mind forever.
He had been taken by ambulance to the hospital. I was out of the room fetching something while Sister Darlene guarded Gerry. When I returned the nurse was giving Gerry an injection. Of course, I was curious as to what drug was being infused into my husband's body. When Darl said the word "morphine" my mind numbed. MORPHINE. Gerry was really sick. Gerry was in a lot of pain.
After the nurse left the room, I sat on a chair beside Gerry's sleeping body and held his hand. I started to cry and put my head on the bed rail. I quietly sobbed for the ten thousandth time in thirteen months. His clouded eyes sprung open. He held up the blanket and mumbled, "Slide in." I lowered the rail and laid beside Gerry back to front. He put the blanket over me and enfolded me in his once-muscular arms and comforted me by whispering, "We'll get through it."
Four days later, I once again laid beside him. This time, I was telling him I loved him as he gasped for his last breath. Gerry passed away this morning.

The WIngs of Angels

The angels' wings are seeking to enfold Gerry into their soothing clutches, but he resists. They are fluttering around, waiting, but he shuns them with regular deep breaths, blowing them away. Sometimes he taunts. He holds his breath. They swoop, wings outstretched but another strong breath is expelled and they are blown out of bounds. When the time is right, they will capture him, lifting him heavenward and into their world.

Jen and I are ready to let him go. We have seen him suffer enough.

Rites

As the ambulance backed into the driveway yesterday, I knew that once Gerry was carried out, he would not be coming back, in body anyway.
When he woke up, he was short of breath and his legs were very weak. He was also very confused. It was not a difficult decision for me. I knew it was time. I called Jen, my sisters, Mom and our good friends, Carl and Donna. We had coffee, some laughs and fellowship as I got things gathered up. Gerry didn't resist going. He was not really "here". He was admitted and is now in a private room in the Palliative Care unit. He is fighting sleep, as usual. Today he had a shot of morphine, a shot of Versad, a sedative. He tried to get out of bed and succeeded by eventually falling on the floor and having the power of a lift to pick him back up. He had another shot of Versad. This time he scooted to the bottom of the bed. We thought he needed the bathroom so we tried that. No luck! They gave his the third shot, this time intravenously and he dozed off. Gerry was never one to give in easily, even to the bitter end. He now talks incoherently to us. He talks about people who have passed away, his mother, his uncles Erskine and Ernest, old neighbors and friends. I am sure they are beckoning to him. His eyes are darting and blinking. He has a catheter. The priest was in and said the "Prayers for the Sick".

Jen and I are very sad.

Did I Mention?

And by the way, Gerry has another infection BESIDES SALMONELLA. He now has pseudomonas. He is on two antibiotics now. There is never a dull moment.

Home vs Hospital?

A tide of uncertainty washes over me tonight. The flirty tide ebbs at the shore of reason and recedes until the crest of a new current rises.
Gerry stumbled and fell three times this morning. He knees just buckled. Twice, I was not near. I had to help him gather his long, sprawling limbs and to stand him upright again. This afternoon, he seemed more stable but was "spotted" when walking. He is now sleeping in the living room on a sofa-bed. That was a big step. He is a man of routine and when I said he wasn't going upstairs tonight, he protested slightly but was easily persuaded to bunk down on the couch. I will sleep on it too.
I was talking to a couple of heath care professionals today. They used words and phrases like "hospital", "quality of life" and "you have to think of yourself". I am resisting putting him in the hospital. He loves home and so do I. I don't mind the work but now I am concerned about his safety. Tonight, he had another fall. I was right there but he tumbled and injured his face by his cheekbone. It was bleeding.
As I tucked him in, I wondered if I was getting in too deep; if I was drowning in an ocean of self-righteousness.
As the seas rise and fall, so does my uncertainty.

Every Day-Something New

I am tired so here is a synopsis of today.
*I call his family doctor and leave a message to call me.
*Home care makes its first visit. Gerry is disengaged and unsteady on his feet but the visit goes well.
*I go to town. I order a swivel, rocker, recliner at Sears, etc. My neighbor, Donna, stays with Gerry.
*People visit. THANKS!
*Jen and Isaac visit. YEAH!!
*More people visit.
*Don't hear back from doc.
*I clean Gerry's feeding tube site and notice an abscess. I clean it out and it is bleeding. Fix it up the best I can. I will see what it is like in the morning. Always something....

Up a Tree

There has been a change of plans. Today, after I helped Gerry downstairs, I noticed the feeding tube was threaded through his legs and he had come down with one sock on. He didn't even notice these things and since he got up quickly, I didn't have time to assess him before we headed down. He was also very "gravitationally insecure" and I felt battered by the time I got him settled. It was at that point I decided that Gerry could not be taken to Moncton in a van and experience a three stage test. The whole experience would take about 14 hours. There was just NO WAY. I called his family doctor and the physicians who share the practice were both stranded off Island. I called my dear friend and oncology nurse, Susan, to see if she thought I was making the right decision. She concurred with me so I quickly emailed Dr. Colosimo, head of nuclear medicine in Moncton,to cancel the appointment and received an almost immediate response expressing that he hoped we could arrange it a different way. Tomorrow, hopefully his doctors will be back on the Island and we can arrange a hospital to hospital transfer. That means he would be admitted here, transferred by ambulance to Moncton and be admitted there for the testing and then transported back to Summerside. Time will tell what will happen.

Last year, during the ice storms, Gerry would be fretting about the broken trees, the leaning boughs near the power line running to the house and the frozen drain near the garage door. This year he lies on the couch, looks out the window at the glassy branches and says how pretty they are.

Above is a photo taken late last January of Gerry (on the ladder) and his dear friend Carl as they cut down drooping branches near the power line leading to our house. He received his first diagnoses less than two weeks after this photo was taken.

The Bread Rises

I am cooking.
I am making home made beans, home made bread and a raspberry custard pie I saw in my Martha Stewart magazine. Gerry used to love home made beans and home made bread. I have made thousands of loaves for him and every batch seemed, to him, to be better than the one before. He could make a meal out of bread and one more thing. I have seen him polish off a half loaf in one sitting. I am not sure if he will eat any of today's bounty. If he does, it will be a minuscule amount compared to his previous feasts.

Yesterday, I managed to get the IV done without a hitch. My sister Carol came out to be here when I did it, in the event that we had to call 911! Thanks, Carol. Gerry sleeps a lot; in fact I have to rouse hi shortly since I have to do the IV routine again. We head to Moncton for a white blood cell scan on Wednesday. It is going to be a very long tiring day for him.

As the bread rises, so do my apprehensions, about many things.

The picture above was taken last February 8, one day before we received his cancer diagnosis. Gerry and Isaac are enjoying Mumsie's home made bread and beans.