hospice – Love, Tennis, and Cancer

Rough Saturday Morning

Posted on February 19, 2022 by mfregien6c146e4539

Rough morning today. I woke up with my brain replaying the hospice days in my head. I know it’s because I was looking at pictures last night and ran across one that I don’t remember seeing before. Jason is sleeping in the hospital bed in our living room and I am sleeping curled up on the sofa next to him holding his hand. On the edge of the picture on the other side you can see that Jeremy is holding his other hand. I don’t have a lot of pictures from those hospice days. How I don’t remember seeing this one before I have no idea…but it really hit me last night.

I feel like there’s a lot of things I just don’t remember from the days of hospice until Jason’s funeral. Maybe my brain and emotions are just too overloaded. Maybe it’s too painful to remember. I don’t know. I remember leaning on Jeremy and Cheryl a lot…maybe too much. I remember feeling like my little house of cards that I had worked so hard to keep bolstered up was all crashing down on top of me…and I was powerless to stop it. In the end, my will and my love wasn’t enough.

Now I’m trying to rebuild my house of cards. Jason and I built such a strong foundation together. That’s still there at least. It’s hard to find the heart to put into it though.

I have also been doing work in my actual house…with help from family and friends. We cleaned out our basement and bought new furniture. It’s a great place to hang out now. I also am waiting on new furniture for the living room, and am going to paint the living room walls. Trying to freshen things up a bit so the kids and I can feel comfortable and make more new good memories in this house.

Wednesdays

Posted on October 27, 2021 by mfregien6c146e4539

Wednesdays are my counting day. Today makes 12. I want to pull the covers over my head and stay in bed…have to go to work. Another day. Seven more before 13.

When Jason was on hospice the last few days of his life my neighbors gathered in our driveway…to support us and say their “goodbyes” to Jason. They gave me a windchime. I love it so much. I can hear it from anywhere in the house. It reminds me of Jason and also that I have “people”. Today it’s going like crazy. Love that.

Shock

Posted on September 2, 2021 by mfregien6c146e4539

Today I had my first appointment with the Grief Counselor who is available as part of the hospice program that Jason was in. I was not looking forward to it…actively dreading it…almost cancelled it numerous times. Grief counseling is not something I want to have to take advantage of. I don’t want to need it.

Here’s the thing though. I spend a lot of time feeling nothing how I anticipated I would feel…nothing how I think I should feel…nothing how I think other people think I should feel. I thought I would be spending all my time crying…not wanting to get out of bed…not able to function. People tell me I’m so strong because I’m back at work…taking care of my kids and dogs…functioning pretty well. I cry sometimes, but I can also go days without crying. They tell me “I don’t think I could do that”…which by the way makes me feel like shit because I feel like I am not feeling “bad enough”.

My takeaway from the Grief Counselor–I am only functioning well because I am in shock. And my shock has been compounded by the fact that we did at-home hospice…there were many aspects of his end-of-life care and death that were shocking and horrifying and have been impossible to put to the back of my mind. When I close my eyes at night those days are on repeat in my head…over and over and over.

Once she pointed it out to me and explained it to me it was a huge “ah ha moment”. After she left, I found this article published by the Hospice Foundation of America titled “The Shock of Loss“. Several parts of it really hit home for me:

People in shock often appear to be behaving normally without a lot of emotion because the news hasn’t fully sunk in yet.

Detached from the reality of the loss, you may be able to function pretty well at first. This can be confusing to the people around you, when they expect full-blown grief and suffering that you don’t yet feel.

Staying awake late at night obsessing or falling asleep only to wake suddenly in the middle of the night are both normal reactions.

Yes. That is it exactly.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret our decision to do at-home hospice one iota. It was the least that I could do for Jason…to make sure his last days were comfortable and that he was surrounded by the people who loved him with his dogs looking over him.

I just wish I could stop re-living it in my head.