This weekend was at both extremes. We started out on a high, but ended up rather low.
Saturday night, we got to go to the SEA, Inc Christmas party. This is the new company that Jim just started working for two weeks ago. It was great! LOVE the people! Jim's boss, Steve Sain, is a great guy, and his wife, Elena, is delightful. Totally first class gathering at The Cafe DuPont http://www.cafedupont.net/. The food was spectacular! Loved every bite!
Sunday morning, we slept in. This is most unusual for us. Mornings are harder for me these days and Jim was sick. He had been up most of the night. His stomach had been in knots since midnight. I think we finally got up around 8:30.
We wanted to go up and visit Jim's mom since we are going to be flying to LA on Wednesday for Christmas. We got showered and dressed, and at about 11:15 we were ready to go. That is when Jim walked into our room holding the thermometer. He had a slight fever. We debated going, but finally decided that if we could make it, we should make the effort. (I felt his head on the way up, and I think his fever was gone.)
Drove up and got there about 1:30. Jim's mom was in bed. The room was warm and dark. Jim went over and awakened her and she responded, but I am not sure she recognized him right away. I gave her a kiss on the forehead. She has deteriorated a lot since last week. Her eyes are dull, she doesn't talk much, and she is so feeble.
We decided it might help to just get her out of the room, so we moved her to the wheelchair with great care. Her hair was wild, so I got her comb and gently combed her hair. Surprisingly, it is not gray, but more of a strawberry blonde. It is really beautiful. I think it made her feel a little bit better to just have her hair combed.
We got her in the wheelchair and took her around the halls to look at the Christmas decorations. She responded to some of it, but everything takes so much energy. Finally, we wheeled her back to her room. She is so thin...
When she talks, she is hard to understand because her words are kind of muffled. But, she asked us if she could rest. We helped her back in to bed. (I couldn't help but think about how challenging it would be to try to do all this in one's home. It is a whole new ballgame to have to take care of ALL the needs a person has when they are as incapacitated as Mom is.)
Once we got her in bed, Jim sat down and asked her if she would like him to read from the Bible. She told him that would be fine. He asked her if there was any particular passage. "Corinthians" she whispered. Jim opened to I Corinthians 13 and started reading "If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels and have not Charity, it profits me nothing..." (Last week when Jim read this passage to Mom, she would finish many of the phrases. This week, she just had her eyes closed and showed virtually no response.) As Jim got to the end of the passage, his voice began to break. He has been through so much in this past year. His dad died in July, I have had three cancer-related surgeries, and his mom is now quickly fading away. All this plus financial challenges and then a job change. No wonder he is sick!
I went over beside him and rubbed his back as he finished the passage. Then, he asked me to pray for Mom, which I gladly did. Then, Jim told her goodbye, I kissed her on the forehead and told her we would see her after our trip. We then quietly left in silence, holding one another's hand. Jim drove until we got to the interstate and then asked me to drive the rest of the way. Fortunately, he got a little sleep. When we got home, he went straight to bed. I ache for him.
I am worn out. My cancer is nothing compared to this. Watching Jim's folks deteriorate this year has been horrendous. One thing I am realizing is that it is very difficult to talk about what it is like to see someone decline and slowly disappear. It is so overwhelming that one is dumbfounded. That is the right word. For example, I am not sharing some of the really hard things we observed while we were with Mom these last few weeks. One loses one's dignity and independence with growing physical weakness. The reason I was so appalled that there was valet parking at the cancer center was precisely related to this fear - "I am going to lose the ability to take care of myself. I am going to end up being dependent on others for things I would rather handle myself." As I have watched Mom go downhill, I have been struck speechless. There are no words to describe what I have seen.
While the negatives have been profound, there is something very real about all this. I remember when we would take Jim's mom to see Dad before he died, they would always part with Mom saying "You're my darling." And Jim Sr. would reply "You're my sweetheart." Those precious exchanges are seared into our minds. They are sacred phrases from a 65+ year relationship between a husband and wife.
Now, as we have prayed with Mom, and Jim has read I Corinthians to her on several occasions, I will never hear I Corinthians 13 and not think of Jim at her bedside, quietly reading to her. While I am dumbfounded at this process, I am also more human as a result of having passed through this place.
Life is SO full of distractions. But, in times of suffering, there seem to be these very essential moments that lack the noise, the foolishness of busyness. They are quiet moments that are filled to the brim with poignancy. I know my husband better and I love him more because we have suffered together.
We are not through. I know there will be more sorrows ahead, but there will also be the blessings - the moments of celebration with family and friends, the beauty of sunsets and sunrises, the gentle breezes of the beach, and the grace gifts that God blesses us with along the way.
I ache, but I am grateful. Pray for Jim. He is a very good man, and he is carrying a very heavy load right now.
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