Three Years

December 8, 2016 in Lymphoma by Reta Reed

(I just posted the 9/26/16 entry today, copied from the ARFCOM site, so if you’re following this blog closely, don’t think you missed anything.)

This is obviously a rough time of year for me. It starts before Thanksgiving, when I remember how badly Jeff wanted to come home after spending so much time in the ICU/hospital, but he really wasn’t ready. I still have his texts where he threatened to walk home if I didn’t come pick him up. He texted that his oncologist said he was ready to go. (I texted his oncologist directly, who promptly denied he said anything of the sort.) Jeff charmed everyone into believing he was okay enough. He got home and got to the couch. And then couldn’t get off the couch. It was too low and he didn’t have enough strength in his legs to get up. He was too heavy for me to lift but we rigged something with a walker and pillows and a belt just to get him off the couch… It was painful to see him struggle.

The day after he got home, he had an appointment in Dallas for transplant evaluation and could barely get in and out of the car. He wanted to be okay. And I let him think that he was okay; let him believe that I thought he was okay and that he would have the transplant and get better. Looking back now, I knew he was probably discharged from the hospital too early, but I didn’t know just how close we were to the end. We were both still hopeful.

So here we are three years later and it’s still painful. This is the one day when I just want to crawl in a hole and do nothing. Maybe it’s a good thing that there are appointments and things to do today that prevent me from going to that dark place. My wonderful man helps tremendously too. He’s very understanding and actually wants me to dump all this on him. I don’t usually like to share the bad stuff. I don’t like people to worry, especially about me. I’m pretty skilled at keeping a brave, happy face, but I allow myself at least this one day to crumble. Just a little. Tomorrow will be better.