I'm okay. We're okay.

 Well, I find myself back here.  I'm not sure what to do or what to blog about but I have been told by several to just do it.  Jump in and just start typing.

As many of you know, I lost my husband in May of this year.  Quintin was diagnosed a year ago, November 12th, 2020, with esophageal cancer.  He was 38 at the time.  He had a tumor in his esophagus that was full of cancer and it was just long enough that they could not go in and remove it.  The lymph nodes in his esophagus were full of cancer, as well as the top of his abdomen and into his liver.  He had what was called "cancer fluid" on the outside of his right lung but never penetrated, thankfully.  

He went through 5 weeks of radiation and in time the tumor shrunk. He also did a round and a half of chemo.  First round was 4 treatments and they were rough.  He was so sick and had no life outside of our bed.  He couldn't eat of course so they had to put in a feeding tube and he hated that but he did it because he had to have nutrition.  It was so rough watching him go through this.  After his first round of chemo, they did a scan to see if it looked like it was helping.  And it did look like it was helping! He had decided he wasn't going to do another treatment because of how sick he was.  He couldn't go anywhere.  He couldn't visit anyone.  He couldn't even go outside and do much because he would be so sick and he told me that wasn't how he wanted to go out.  

So, 2 more treatments and he physically could not handle it anymore.  He told them he was done for the time being.  After all, it was hunting season and he wasn't going to miss getting a turkey for the last time.  Priorities, right??  So off he went to find his Tom Turkey.  I can't remember if it was the first day or the second day but on one of those days I got a phone call from him.  "I'm on my way to the hospital.  Can you meet me there?"  It's not like it was the first time he had been there.  Heck, when he got his scan results telling him his liver was ate up, he was in the hospital and thanks to COVID, I wasn't even allowed to be with him to grieve with him.  We had to do that on video chat.  So unfair.  

So on that day when he was hunting, I found out that he had went to take a pee and noticed his urine was abnormally dark that day.  It was something we kept an eye on but it was dark enough he knew something was wrong.  He asked his buddy that he was with if he looked ok and his friend said he was REALLY yellow and he thought they should take him to the hospital.  So I met them there and they did some more tests and conferred with his medical team at Methodist and the worst news, although we knew it was coming, that he was in liver failure.  When that doctor told us, I thought I was going to faint.  I looked at Q and he just sighed a big sigh and said "Well, now what?"  The doctor said "Go hunting!  Go live."

I don't know how far down the line that was but we knew the clock was ticking.  He pretty much got what he wanted and got to do whatever he wanted from that point on.  "You can't" was no longer in my vocabulary because he was already getting the short end of the stick of life.  

Six months and 11 days was all we had to prepare ourselves to never see each other again; to never say "Hey babe" again; to never tell each other "I love you" again; to never get to kiss each other good night.  What I wouldn't give to have it all back with him happy and healthy but that just wasn't in the cards.  

There was a lot that went on in between this stuff but it's hard to remember timelines without digging out a bunch of notebooks that I have conveniently put out of mind for this very reason.  I can't live each day remembering every detail or I am going to drive myself insane.  And I don't know why I am here telling all this.  The majority of the people that will read this is on my Facebook and they read it as we went through it.  I guess this is just where my mind wanted to start.

I have been going through "firsts" and they suck!  The hardest first I have had was coming home from work and not hearing "Hey babe" when I walked in the door.  I had heard it every time I came in for the past 12 years.  That was a hard pill to swallow.  There were days on end that I would sit in my recliner, holding all three dogs on my lap, and just watch the door.  Waiting for this poorly executed joke to come to an end so I could have my life back.  

I know we all say "I can't live without you," but sometimes we have to.  We don't have a choice.  Life doesn't stop because a person stopped breathing.  The world doesn't stop moving because you are one less.  And it's a whole different life.  All the hopes and dreams and goals that Quintin and I had were now just my hopes and dreams and goals.  I didn't have ...don't have someone by my side to make that magic happen anymore.  So the hopes change and the dreams change and the goals as well and it's a sad, sad existence some days.

I talk to Quintin a lot.  When I'm frustrated because I'm failing at something I call out and ask him to help me and he does.  It's strange to say but he really does.  In little time a solution presents itself and that makes me smile.  I know he is here with me and encouraging me just like he always has been.  I can't see him but he is here and he is smiling because he knows I am doing it.  I am living and taking care of these three little monsters of ours and we are going to be okay.

Over the course of the past five and a half months, I have seen completely new sides to people that I thought I knew.  Both good sides and bad sides.  I have lashed out at people for the right reasons and for the wrong reasons and I have learned once again, that there are people who claim to love you but aren't willing to accept apologies. But you know what?  All that does is make me stronger and it takes so much drama out of my life!  

I have learned that not everything is worth saving. Whether it is some kind of relationship or some kind of trinket.  Not everything has to mean something.  I am learning that I have to watch both my front and my back because I don't have anyone here with me to do what Quintin did.  If I needed something, he was right there or he had a solution.  Now it's my turn to do that and make him smile down from the Heavens!  

I learned that I am not a country girl.  No thank you.  That was Quintin's dream and as long as he was there, I was proud to be by his side doing whatever needed but without him, that is no longer a dream for me.  I like living in town and the dogs have adapted pretty well.  But let me tell you something... for the short few years we lived away from town, I got pretty accustomed to the quietness of the country (except that wind that some days seemed like it was going to blow the house down) so when we moved to town, I said to the dogs, several times a day, "It sure is noisy in town."  How easily I had forgotten that!  

Some days I my personal fuse is tremendously short and that frustrates me.  Little things irritate me.  I was driving through Orient the other day and it was really windy and I was headed out of town, there were 2 trash cans that had blown out into the road.  Cars and trucks going both ways, slowing down to go around them and that irritated me. I slammed my car in park right in the middle of that highway, turned on my flashers and got out and moved both trash cans back to the nearest yard.  A guy sat in his truck and when I walked back to my car he rolled his window down and said "You need help?"  Are you freaking kidding me dude???  "I figured nobody else was going to get out and do anything so this seems like the obvious thing to do!"  Got back in my car and drove off with my middle finger in the air.  

Some days my emotions get the best of me.  I cry watching Bar Rescue if you believe that so I quit watching it.  You can only cry so many times about a bar getting cleaned up before you know this isn't for you.  Songs on the radio make me cry a lot.  I have learned to just let the tears roll and keep singing.  

I have a group that I has helped me and I have learned a lot from my "widowed sisters."  I have learned that it is okay to cry.  It's okay to be emotional about anything.  It's okay to stay in when the world wants you to be out. Nobody can tell you how you feel at any time and when you are grieving, nobody can help you through it if they haven't been through it themselves.  I believe that with every being of my soul.  Death is hard and the relationship you have with the deceased is different.  Whether it be your spouse, your child, your parent, your sibling... it is going to be a different grief.  And I'm experiencing mine.  The first person that tells me I need to get over it and move on will probably get punched in the face.  I will never get over this loss but I am moving on and I will be okay.  

I just need to learn to live without Quintin's physical presence.  I'm okay.  We're okay.  I am lost a lot of days.  I find I still have what they call Widow Brain.  It's a thing.  Look it up.  Someday I won't have it and that will be great but I will keep taking my punches as they come.

We are living our best life right now and that will just have to be enough.  The holidays are coming up and what I would love to do is hide from the world but I'm not going to do that.  I'm going to celebrate it with the people I love and the people who love me.  And I will smile and I will cry, but I will get through it and be okay.

I'm lost but I am finding my new self slowly.  I am not the same person I was once.  I have no desire to road trip or vacation or even take overnight trips.  I just want to be me in my new world and there are a few less people now to explain that too and it's amazing.  

I think I got it all off my chest.  Hopefully I will get back to this blogging business sooner rather than later because I really do enjoy it.  I will get some lighter material to slide in next time (I hope).  Until next time friends.  Thanks for reading.