Happy New Year!

It's here. 2010. Didn't even mark it. Husband is watching his usual show. Sports on ESPN. Whatever. Took a second out when I mentioned it but didn't really say anything.

He's still here. Thank God. Says he's not in pain. I know he's hungry but he can't get much down. He tries. He has a couple of pieces of some kind of salad we bought today. He put it together at the salad bar of the grocery store. We had to go out to get somethings into the house because of the coming snow storm. Not much, as we don't know how long it's going to snow.

I will make a beef stew for tomorrow. He like dumplings so maybe he'll be able to get at least half of one down. I've tried to be creative while cooking. We went out and he had a hot roast beef sandwich. I told him I could have made it for cheaper and he agreed but hasn't tried it again.

I'm so tried of trying to find things he'll eat. I just try. Don't want to waste money or food but I have to try. 

Goodnite for now. Happy New Year.

New Years, 2010. Coming soon.

Well, it's almost 2AM here in Augusta. Hubby just went to bed. He took a 3rd pain pill just awhile ago. He doesn't talk to me about it. He doesn't do much. Yesterday it almost killed him to go and do laundry. Today, we went to the store. He needed to get some beer. "We" have to stock up, it's on sale. It's his nourishment these days. But I digress. He asked me to drive. The only other time I drove him around is when he couldn't see before cataract surgery. Then he couldn't drive cause they would have taken his license. Now you could knock him over with the stiff wind that was blowing today.

He's down to 113 lbs. and there is nothing I can do. I made a meatloaf today. Thought he might at least try some. He didn't even touch it. Said don't bother. Great, I wasted meat and eggs so that I could eat meatloaf for a week. Oh yea, the ham is still in the fridge from Christmas day. I want to clean out the fridge, but I can't take the rubbish out and he sure as hell can't. I guess I could call and see if my grandson could come over and help me.

My grandson came over today just to bring the "groceries" in the house today. That's what my husband calls groceries, his beer. I don't drink the stuff.

Well, I guess I'd better go to bed. They are replacing windows on our building this week and I'm sure they will be here at 7:30 AM.

Christmas in 3 days.

Well, he made it through our anniversary.

Today we went to office of apt. complex we live in to "re-certify" our employment status. This office is about 50 steps from our front door. I use a walker so it's hard for me. Especially with workers blocking the sidewalks with power cords and bins of tools in the way.

At least I can get out my front door now. The major reconstruction of the road had been completed. Now when it snows, the plows aren't allowed to get too close to the new asphalt curbing. Of course that means snow piles up so I can't get to the car. Shoveling is not an activity that my husband can do anymore. He has no strength. He can't even walk in the grocery store. Bringing groceries in the house is a trial to say the least.

He can't eat, I cook, he takes maybe a couple of bites and then throws the food out. I have tried to make things easier. He doesn't want soup (I'm not sick, HUH). He won't try milk shakes or smoothies. Ensure is disgusting and anything I suggest or the doctor for that matter, is politely nodded to and completely forgotten.

All he does is drink his 10 beers a night and literally staggers to bed. He's taken to using my walker as he, of course, can't walk with all that alcohol. He won't quit. "It's keeping me alive", he says. I don't totally agree, but I can't say anything. He jumps down my throat. I'm the bad guy here.

I leave only a piece or two of toilet paper on the roll. I use all the paper towels without getting new ones out. It's my fault that he has to do laundry.

I'm so depressed that I can't stand it anymore. Hell, he might live to outlive me. I know it's a sin, but sometimes I wonder. No I'm not suicidal. I just need to talk to someone or write down my thoughts.

He fell the other night and according to him it was my fault. I was no where near him but it was my fault. I've had a bruise on my leg from the last time he fell. I couldn't lift him up and he kept falling. He crawled to the toilet so he could get up. I'm sure I don't know how he's going on.

All I'm doing is waiting for this to end.

I don't want any of my children here. I don't want the friends (yeah, they stopped coming around long ago). If they can't pick up the phone and call, don't bother when it's all overwith.

Will he make it to Dec. 3 our anniversary?

I haven't posted since August and frankly, I didn't think I would.

December 1 has come and gone. Bill's still here, but he's down to 113 lbs. Can't eat anything, he can't open his mouth to put food in. He is weak, has no stamina. Have gone back to the doctors but he can't lie on his back so we don't know if he will be able to do a PET scan again. Saw another ENT on Monday. It was an adventure in driving. We haven't been out at night in so long and we had to drive 35 miles to see the doctor. I'm not doing so well either, but why complain. I just have to write something because if I don't "talk" to something or someone I'll go nuts. Hell, I think I already am. I've called all kinds of people to see if they can advise me about his "eating" but if he won't do what they say where else can I turn. No one knows. I try to talk to our son but he's got his own problems and is looking for a job in state where there aren't any. He's a good son. Tells us to call if we need anything but I can't do that.

I made a comment about him not seeing Dec 3 which is our 44th anniversary and all he could think about was the 3rd day of the month was when our Social Security Checks come in. HOW'S THAT FOR LOVE??? I guess loving him for 44 years has not been good. I'm going now cause the clicking of the keys is driving him crazy. Oh yeah, he want me to write his obit. Great. What I did for my love, wrote his obit. Too sad.

Today is the last of August. He's still here, but not doing so well. Yesterday he complained of back pain. Hell it's not his back, it's his kidneys. He's rapidly loosing this battle now. He's block headded and, no matter what, he's going to be gone soon.

Watched Sen. Ted Kennedy's funeral yesterday. It was historic of course, and sad. Our lives have been lived throughout the history that was the Kennedy era. It ended for Ted and it will end for my Bill in a matter of days.

He can't walk for very long and hates to go to the store because they are so big. I tell him to ride a cart where appropriate, but he says no. Stubborn and doesn't want to appear weak. He is dying and nothing I can say will change that.

On the subject of family. He doesn't want to see anyone. Not his mother, sisters, friends or our children. "Just call to have me creamated. NO funeral." Like we can afford a funeral. I can't even afford to have him creamated. It's hell being on a fixed income when you get nothing but necessary funds.

I may post here again, or not. It's only been to let off steam. If you have read any of this keep your loved ones safe. May you all walk in sunshine.

August is here, he's still here too.

Today we went out to get some groceries and get a check for the rent. It's obvious to me that hubby is getting weaker by the day. He ate a couple of mouthfuls of the skin from Kentucky Fried Chicken on Saturday. Yesterday he had about a half cup of macaroni and cheese that I made from this super recipe on ALLRecipes.com. I enjoyed it and he said today that it was okay but maybe needed something. "What was in it?" he asked. If I told him the truth he would probably have thrown it at me. I made it with cottage cheese (he doesn't "DO" cottage cheese). Also there's sour cream (he doesn't "DO" that either), shredded cheese and parmesean cheese. Bake it in the oven with a bread crumb topping and it was supper creamy and very good. I added kielbasa (after I cooked and peeled the skin off) today with the leftovers cause he like the suggestion but only took a couple of bites cause he couldn't chew today.

I guess there are good days and bad days.

I look in on him every night before I fall asleep and he looks like a skeleton laying there. In the mornings I check to make sure he's still breathing.

I know he is getting weaker every day. He can hardly walk through the grocery store. Doesn't want to do much but watch TV.

When we do go out, I'm afraid when he drives. What if he has a seizure? What if he can't stop?

Maybe we can go out together. Stupid huh?

I've got to go. Clicking isn't doing good for his hearing of the TV.

How much longer?

Today is Friday. Another few days has gone by. I'm still crying and worrying myself into an ulcer. My doctor is such a good man. He said he will see my husband any time if my husband will allow it. Again, I asked and he said no.

Finally he has admitted to pain. It must be really bad because he never takes even an asprin for a headache. Tuesday, he took some Advil. I am the one that usually takes Advil for the arthritis pain that I have. My doctor has given me a perscription for the main ingredient in Advil, which is Naproxen. The Advil was "outdated", you know, don't use after such and such a date. It hit me then that he could take the naproxen. One pill instead of two. But he had to eat something while taking the pill. He wanted peanut butter cookies. (Which I made from scratch.) He used to like them so that's why I made them. He ate one with a glass of milk and then took the pill. I guess it helped. Everytime I ask about the pain, he yells that he's OKAY.

We looked at another apartment, one that would be ideal for us but he thought it too small. Yes, maybe it was a little small but it is also considered big enough for me after he is gone. I have to think about me too.

I went to see the doctor about my health issues. Before my cholesterol was 273 and my blood pressure was sky high, so bad I take TWO blood pressure meds. My hip is really bothering me and now the pain is traveling down to my knee. Doctor said I should be thinking of the hip replacement surgery because it will ease the pain and I'm such a wimp that all I'm thinking about is the pain from the surgery and the physical therapy afterward. He's right though. I need to have this done so that I'll be able to get around for myself. No having anyone else do my laundry or anything else.

It's time for me to sign off. I really need to vent more, but I need to get off this blog. The click clack of my typing is driving him "NUTS".

Until another time, good-bye.

Another day has gone by.

Well here I sit, another day gone by and still no resolution. Oh my gosh, do I really want that resolution. Of course not. The final resolution will be his death, a better one would be for him to become unconscious so that I can get him to a hospital and for them to give him the IV's and stuff he need to remain living. Maybe then he will see that life is worth living.

Wait a minute, that's right, he has written somewhere that he doesn't want any life saving done on his body. Yes, that right, he's DNR. Will that written note be enough? I don't know. A couple of years ago we discussed this. I got the papers for us to sign and everything and he never filled them out.

Is he selfish? I think so. He's going to leave me alone. Forty-two and a half years is a long time. I don't think I can make it on my own. I miss him already.

I can't talk to anyone because all I do is cry.

He had me cancel the doctor's appointment for Sunday. I know, what doctor goes in on Sunday? A very busy one and one that probably is so overwhelmed with his practice that there is no other days to see people. I'm just ranting now. I want to rant and rail and howl.

I'm going to stop this now because I can't see anymore (crying).

What was he thinking?

I am sitting here just wondering how much longer my husband will live. It's terrible watching someone you have lived with for over 42 years disappear before your eyes. Not that he hasn't really done this to himself, he's been a smoker since the age of 19 when he went into the Army.

I sit here and cry. I go to bed and I cry. Crying doesn't get anywhere and it give me a headache. But, I am really emotional and I cry at everything.

Let me tell you a little about this journey I've been on.

His voice began changing and I wanted him to go to see a doctor. "Oh, it's nothing. I'm alright." Mr. Macho man go to a doctor, are you kidding me? Well, time went on and his voice got worse. He wouldn't talk on the telephone. Not anything new there. He NEVER talked on the phone unless it was a dire necessity. Gave permission to whom ever was on the end of the line so that I could convey his thoughts (of course they were his thoughts yea, right). Any how, he started sneezing and his nose was running. Allergies he said. "Allergies in the winter?" I asked. "Hell yes" he said, the dry heat from the electric heat was the culprit.

Okay, now you know what I'm thinking, throat cancer. Yup, that's my untrained diagnosis. I don't voice this FEAR.

Finally, last June, I got him to see a doctor. "Those quacks don't know anything" was his reaction, but I did get him to go to see a primary care physician. We just received the government subsidized health care cause we have no money and didn't know where we were going to pay for said electric heat or to keep a roof over our head. (I can't work cause I'm plagued with a bad hip and back. But that a whole different story.)

Saw the physician. He referred (of course) hubby to a throat specialist that same day. We went and the probe was put in and yup, just like I suspected, the big C in his larynx. Throat Cancer. What can we do? Well it seems the Tumor Board only wants him to do one thing, Radiation. That's fine, but, he discovers that he is claustrophobic in the PET Scan machine. The mask they make is killing him. He can't stand to stay laying down. He's so skinny that he hurts on the bed of the machine. He's 122 lbs now. Down from 145 last year. (Amazing huh, no idea why he was losing weight.)

Well, he came through the PET Scan. The cancer hadn't spread, it was stage 2, but very curable. He talked about having his larynx out, but the nurse said they wouldn't do it cause it was curable with radiation.

After two weeks, all was well. Or so I thought. He said he wasn't hurting. I believed him because he never complained. That was my mistake. He looked forward to not having to go to the Cancer Center for 4 days. Labor Day holiday and then on Tuesday he was to have a stomach tube inserted so he could have nutrition pumped into his stomach cause of course the radiation should be making his throat sore by now. It was but he didn't complain. Doctor gave him pain meds but Mr. Macho didn't take them.

On Labor Day, he tells me he's not going to get the tube put in. I ask why and he said he's done with radiation. I'm stunned. I cry, of course, who wouldn't. The next day doctors call. Three of them. The oncologist, the gastroentologist and the throat specialist. He won't talk to them so I'm the messenger. I'm the whipping post. THEY tell me what's going to happen. As if I didn't know.

Well here it is, the following June and I did get him to go to see my doctor, different than him. How, by telling him I wouldn't have my hip replaced because I just couldn't do it with him sick. I had no one to help me after the surgery and so I didn't want to have it done. (How sick is that? I should be taking better care of myself so that I don't become incapacitated and I'm pulling this crap.)

Well, he goes to see my doctor, he's so nutritionally lax that he has to have salt tablets 4 times a day. These are large pills and he can barely swallow them. Takes only two a day and has blood drawn three times within 9 days. Salt level coming up. He doesn't take the pills for two days, another blood test, salt levels down again. Doctor calls says to take 6 a day. Yea right. I start cutting tablet in half he'll take them but only 4 a day.

Besides he want to have larynx out. Call to throat surgeon, he's on vacation until the 6th of July. Okay, we wait. My doctor is calling, says we really ought to see oncologist so we can get things going. He doesn't want to go into PET Scan again, so adamantly refuses to discuss this and just leaves me hanging with my doctor.

Throat doctor is in, nurse says that tumor board won't let him just have his voice box out because of laws in place. He's curable with radiation.

How sick is that? I'm watching him die. He starving to death. He's only eating pudding now. Won't eat anything if I puree it. Won't drink Ensure cause it leaves a funny taste in his mouth. He won't do anything to help himself and I sit here and cry.

I'm such a wuss. I love him. I don't want to live alone. I've seen a psychologist. He said I shouldn't feel guilty about this. HOW?

Oh, did I mention that we do have kids, but they are all living their lives. Especially his favorite. Who shall remain nameless. She's off living her life and does not want to involve herself with us. Why? How the hell do I know. Maybe I should just buy a gun and a couple of bullets. Hey my sister killed herself, am I any braver? I don't think so. I'm practical. I'm also Catholic. I don't want to kill myself. I repeat, I don't want to kill myself, so if any of you out there want to "turn me in as a flake, I'm not suicidal. I love life and my husband, but it hurts to see him die.

I'm blogging this so that I can vent my frustration only. Don't, please don't blog back and preach to me. I love my husband and myself.

Well, I guess that's enough ranting for one day. If you want, write your thoughts. If not let this go to blogger heaven.