A few years ago, life interrupted, so I'll try to catch you up before I move on.
We left the Yellowstone area in the fall of 2017 having spent an amazing summer in the area. We traveled back to TX for the winter as usual, but this time was different. I noticed a change in Shel's health and we needed to get back to TX as soon as possible. With extreme weight loss, malaise, loss of strength and abilities, I knew something was terribly wrong.
We settled near San Antonio to be closer to medical resources and family. A year of medical appointments, tests and hospitalizations finally culminated in quad bypass surgery in February 2019. Even though the surgery was successful, Shel still faced other serious health issues.
I was so consumed with Shel's recovery, traveling nearly every day to see him at whatever hospital he was in, that I ignored my own symptoms that even my kids distantly saw. I had been falling often for years. My legs refused to work so when no one was around, I had to call the fire dept to pick me up. I have very little memory of the day of Shel's surgery and have to be reminded who was there with me that day. I do remember going out to lunch, and it was almost midnight before we knew he was out of surgery. I was totally incontinent (which for some reason, I didn't perceive as worrisome). During that time, I forgot to have the diesel tanks filled so was without heat for nearly a week in February, cuddling up to the animals at night to stay warm. Carla convinced my Doctor to order an MRI, because her best friend's father is a neurosurgeon who urged tests after he heard my symptoms. After the MRI, I was sent over to my family doctor who told me I had a brain tumor at the base of my skull, blocking my spinal fluid. My only reaction was very c'est la vie, OK, then let's fix this. I was immediately admitted and fast-tracked for brain surgery. Carla must have insisted that someone drive me, and thankfully my sister in law and her daughter drove me around all day and stayed with me until midnight.
The spinal fluid was causing hydrocephalus, so a drain had to be inserted to take the pressure off my brain. Throughout the night, the nurses stayed nearby and checked on me every 15 minutes. My in-laws, who I will always be indebted, took care of our pets. I had to break the news to Shel that I could no longer visit.
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Yes it was ugly,
but you should have seen the jar of fluid! |
We eventually reunited at rehab, and for the next month, underwent therapy to regain strength and agility. I worked hard, looking forward to rehab sessions to get better, with Shel only doing what was necessary for insurance purposes. We lost everything so my kids interrupted their lives again, traveled back to TX to manage our affairs. They rented an apartment, furnished it, and emptied and surrendered the motorhome.
I took advantage of the pool often and used the fitness center when I felt up to it.
After we moved into the apartment, I gradually became the sole caregiver, taking on most of the day-to-day tasks as Shel continued to deteriorate and no longer had the will or ability to carry on. We always promised our commitment to each other that included wiping each other's ass if it came to that, which it did. It was always a 2-way street, and I knew that had our roles been reversed, I knew I would receive the same devotion, no question.
I even made things I would never eat. Shel and my mother shared a love of pigs feet, tongue, souse, scrapple, hog-maw, liver, and
HEAD CHEESE
It's unfortunate they never met.
They would've been besties.
Life became a routine of chemo, blood tests, infusions, transfusions, visiting nurses, hospitals. Last weight was 6'4", 134 lbs. Just bones. Although Visiting Nurses came every week and worked with me to care for him, it was up to me to tend to his daily needs and appointments.
One night, being so weak, he fell in the bathroom, hitting the edge of the bathtub resulting in several brain bleeds. I had a conversation 4 days later with one of the team doctors who asked me to authorize or not heroic efforts if necessary. At that point I realized I had to face the gravity of the situation and that recovery was not possible. No prayers or divine intervention could change the course of life or death, so I called my kids and I only said "please come". When a feeding tube was necessary, I helped the nurses with the awful task of holding him while it was inserted. Shel developed sepsis and passed 5 days later in Intensive Care after being eligible for Hospice just hours earlier. I was planning to gather some things and stay 24/7, but I was a day late.
His remains were accepted to the body farm
I feel guilt, that he was somehow abandoned,
but I tell myself that was a heroic way to memorialize life.
Five weeks later, I lost my Beagle, Wilbur. He was the 1st and last of our 3 Beagles. At the vet, I got on a 3-way call with my kids and cried my heart out over the decision I was about to make. It would have broke Shel, so I'm thankful that he didn't see this.
I took a flying leap years ago and am grateful for the nearly 25 years we had together. Our time living in Pennsylvania, NYC, and small town upstate, traveling fulltime then settling in TX was time well spent. I followed my heart.
Our lives were complex; perhaps I'll tell that story someday. People who know us may think I could have done things differently but I chose not to. Because... love.
