Monday, June 12, 2017

Same as it ever was

It's 1:30 a.m. - Monday.  June 13.  I can't sleep. I'm sitting in the spot Ed used to sit and sleep when he was home.  I miss him so much.  I miss our life, having him with me.  I hate this - being here by myself.

The first picture was taken two years ago - we were on our way to Key West.  We've made some amazing memories.  The second picture is from last month.  At the nursing home.  Where he is now.  By himself.

I cannot, cannot imagine his life.  He has days now where he doesn't get out of bed.  He lays in the same position for days.  Sure, he's repositioned but he doesn't get up.  Day after day. Much of the time by himself.

I let these thoughts eat at me when I can't sleep. Should he be here, at home?  Did I try hard enough to keep him here?

We talk about it often.  We talk about it objectively - how much it would cost to have 'round the clock care.  What if someone didn't show up?  What it was like when he was home and bedbound.  We talk about it emotionally - now much we miss each other.  How great it would be to be home.  But then we remember how miserable it was when neither of us got any sleep, when he was coughing and choking non-stop.  Every conversation leads us to the same place:  he's where he needs to be.

I miss Ed so much.  I grieve the life we won't have.  His arms around me.  Times like this, late at night, unable to reach out and feel safe next to him.   Lately, I rerun our relationship over and over. The things we could have done, where I could've been a better partner.  It's a maddening thing to do.

Ed just came out of another urinary tract infection.  He was confused again.  Unsure where he was.  It lasted several weeks - maybe a month?  Those times are so hard.  He thought he was in Louisiana.  In a garage.  At a cabin.  In the hallway.  He just cleared up a few days ago.  It's good to have him back.

His goal this summer is to go fishing.  He's obsessed with it.  Or was.  We went to Cabela's a few weeks ago.  It was really rough.  We knew what fishing rod we wanted and found it.  He wanted me to put it in his hands.  He honestly thought he might be able to hold it.   He thought, he actually thought if he wished it hard enough, it might happen.  I did NOT want to put that pole in his hands but I did and it fell straight out of his hands, on to the floor.  He was crushed.

Since then, he hasn't talked much about fishing.  He was in the second week of his UTI at that point. The delusions were just so starting but we didn't know he had the UTI yet.  Maybe that added to this moment??

He's very very tired now.  The weather hasn't cooperated.  Neither did his hands, if you ask him.  I swear I'm going to get him out fishing - it has to happen.

I think I'm just rambling.  Time to try to sleep.  Hopefully, no dreams.  I don't write as much anymore because we're stuck in this limbo.  Content in many ways that Ed is still here, still with me.  But sad, empty, stuck in this same day.

I love Ed so much.  So very much.

1 comment:

  1. And you are so very, very loved. Dear woman, so much so.