​Happy Easter – scattered thoughts!
 
This year the Easter story is taking on a new reality.

I love the donkey. It’s such a beautiful symbol of the drudgery of life moving methodically, plodding, head down – feeling the heat of the burden of responsibility.

Then the leaves of the palm tree waving in the hands of others alongside the road, feathered flags of comfort, sending refreshing air, and encouraging us. We are social beings; we are part of the parade and part of the crowd. We don’t do the alone.

The good/bad Friday suffering – is the torture of knowing we are going to die – that dreaded word filled with finality which can be experienced in anticipation long before we actually come to the end. The displayed suffering is full of humiliation, wounds and bleeding.

The cross – stark wood stretched and nailed together – standing on the hill, the ugly symbol of the vulnerability of death. Our body will eventually give up – the lungs will stop fighting for breath, the heart stop beating – and our spirit will leave – the final transition to a new reality.

This is the part that is scary – the new reality.  Death,

After Candace died – someone said to me, “Life on earth will never seem quite so dear – and Heaven never quite so far.”  Heaven – the concept is beautiful – the reality comforting – the prospect frightening.

The Easter story is really all about celebrating these transitions from the donkey to the parade to the cross and right into Heaven.

Cliff is writing about his donkey years, sometimes I feel the soft fan fare of the palm leaves, but right now the hospital bed that they set up in our dining room brings with it a new immediacy of the suffering that lies ahead – and then of course heaven.

The one thing I am realizing is that Heaven isn’t only out there but already inhabits the bed has moved into our house. It is the new reality…. It is hovering close.

And this is the beauty of Easter – that which we fear the most is really full of heavenly surprises.
Heaven creates a vulnerability – thrives on complete transparency. It is all about pure love.

So, we linger over cups of soup – and share an intimacy that is heavenly. We have never talked so much about heaven.  

Heaven holds the promise of powerful connection that feeds our souls.

Even the thought of heaven, the grief of losing, and the hope of bliss is much more fulfilling than the loneliness of life.

We should fear life that holds nothing but fear, pain and disconnection rather than the promise of Heaven that fills us with hope….

Right now – this Easter process, this transition from this reality to the next – is passive aggressive – and here I am smiling.

I wish I could assure you that we are doing this smoothly – with elegance and grace. But we’re not. It’s not pretty – and then we resort to that thing called humor for which we still need those jokes.

Thank you for your wonderful support which we are feeling through your prayers and the thoughtful gestures, the gifts and those groaner jokes.

We love you!  Happy Easter
 ​

        I promised to write a blog every weekend to describe my journey as "Caregiver."
        The fact that I haven't done this - I missed last weekend - is probably some kind of hint. 
        One would think that since I have taken leave of all my work and other interests that I would have more time now, but it isn't working that way. This is a full time job -- and it is getting more intense.
       There is a level of grief - and I can burst into tears at a moment's notice. If anyone peers into my eyes and with great sympathy asks "How are you really doing?" I will burst into tears. Every once in a while when someone describes a plan of theirs - a trip - a moment out -- we remember that we aren't going to be doing anything like that anymore. Instant grief. But that is momentary. 
          Most of our days, are delightful.
           We have no pressure. There are no longer any expectations. 
           We have freedom to be lazy - watch T.V. , linger over lunch and have long intimate conversations. It is so fun to be together and just watch the Jets -- watch the series that we delight in - and listen to long dry sermons by Les Feldick. We have the time now -- and that is luxury.
            I see the cards pile up -- and tell myself there will be time to answer them.. Now we just read them and enjoy them.
         The jokes that are coming in regularly bring a smile - a chuckle. They are so precious.
          Some friends send a Bible verse every day, a song - and we just enjoy.
          Honest  - we are thriving on good words and gestures of love.
         I have to admit- I didn't expect our lifestyle to change so quickly - so drastically.
         We might not have a much quality time as I thought at first... I'm ordering a medical bed next week.
           I also didn't expect that these days would be so relaxing.
          Today was the best day ever.....
   

I promised to blog once a week, so I will honor my commitment.

Just as I suspected, I'm not a very good nurse, but I'm trying. Cliff often rolls his eyes very affectionately and compassionately. Serving the right meals, at the right time is really difficult. The food needs to be bland, nutritious and protein rich. Before this,  we were on a salad regime. What a change!

The worst part in all of this is I'm not keeping up with my thank you notes and such. I'm a bit overwhelmed.  We are being showered with the most beautiful words, most thoughtful gifts, and interesting jokes. Groaners mostly. But they work! Cliff and I read them to each other since they are coming from all kinds of directions - and they work. We either smile, grin, chuckle, groan or roll our eyes in amazement. They are truly a gift - all of them.

We are also being supported in prayers and blessings.

Just the other day, someone (who is looking after her mother) said that she looks for the treasures in each day - those moments that are memorable. She feels honored to walk with her mother through the valley of shadows.

I would agree -- there is something very special about this time we are sharing together... I am very grateful for this time.

And I am very grateful to everyone who has been in touch with us in whatever way! 
Wow are we blessed!   Our days are filled with treasures!

The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye
​ but found by the heart.  -  Judy Garland

One of the reactions to Cliff's diagnosis is an outpouring of stories of healing.

I love each one of them. They speak to the progress in medicine, the courage of the human spirit, and of course Gods miracle power of healing.

The question of "healing" is big. Especially with that stark diagnosis of gallbladder cancer, stage 4 - terminal - 10 months tops that was given  to us before we had time to catch our breath.  Cliff had been so healthy before this - it was only a minor constipation problem - easily healed. Even the suggested chemo treatment has no promises attached. 

Of - course more than anything in the world, I want Cliff to be healed. Even having him incapacitated by cancer is terrifying for me. He is the practical one in our relationship. He know how to change the cartridge in my printer, the right placement of the garbage cans at the roadside, how to undo the car plug, shovel the snow onto the mile-high banks of snow. how to use our robot vacuum and all the other things that make my life so much easier.  He even  helps me process - listens to me. He is my lovie. He completes me.

My first prayer for the day is for him to be healed. We have had the elders in the church come as described in James 5:14  Is any sick among you let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord: 15 And the prayer of  faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up; and if he have committed sins, they shall be forgiven him. I am so grateful for them. 

And if anyone has the power of healing - come visit us. You are always welcome at our house

But on the other hand, I am not waiting for the healing. I am cherishing  our moments together. 

After Candace was found murdered, there was a part of me that died with her. But I also realized that life is really important. 
In fact I once told someone that life is best lived on a tombstone! Death has a way of setting our priorities straight. I even have a file called "the exit" file. I'm glad I prepared it when I did because I don't want to tackle it now and I know it isn't complete.

I guess I'm talking about the balance of life and death! We need to do both. - laugh and cry! 
Celebrate life - and grieve those that leave us.

I relish the prayers, I relish the jokes.
Here are some jokes that Cliff and I received this morning.

• "How does the moon cut his hair?" "Eclipse it."
• "What did one wall say to the other?" "I'll meet you at the corner."
• "What did the zero say to the eight?" "That belt looks good on you."
• "Where do fruits go on vacation?" "Pear-is!"

Thank you Chris for sending them to me and  for making me laugh.
Now I'll go have a good cry!

      Two weeks ago, we went to a walk-in clinic thinking we were dealing with constipation or an obstruction in the bowels. From there it went to cancer - stage four – ten months at the most. Then down the cancer trail of blood work, X-rays, CT scan, biopsy and the cancer ward.
      We thought the first crisis was over on Tuesday when he came home from the hospital. But something was wrong.  He seemed fine in the hospital – all hooked up to intravenous drip and all - but the minute he got home it was as if he was deteriorating before my very eyes. His breathing was becoming labored getting worse by the minute. What is happening? Why would they send him home in this state? Where were the pain killers? Was this the new normal? I thought we would at least have a few months to say our goodbyes….
     Someone had given us the cell number of someone who worked with other gallbladder cancer patients.  “Take him back to St. B. emergency… “ she said calmly.
       We went back, and he went through some more tests. They eventually found the cause of this new crises and drained his abdomen of 4 liters of fluid. No wonder he could hardly breathe.
      That was Thursday, he came home Friday -  a different man.
     Meanwhile I am reassessing my life. I’ve taken a leave from practicing therapy and a leave from pastoring. I’ve completed teaching my life writing course just in time and taking a respite from board work.
     I ​might just have become a nurse – poor Cliff.
     Believe me! All of this is made easier by the conversations we are having.  
    It used to be telephone calls and cards, now its texts, emails messages, comments, cell phone, Face Time, Zooms, cards, flowers, visits, etc. Not complaining  the more words the better!
      It is all comforting and reassuring but  I still cry at a drop of a hat.
      At one very serious meeting over a cup of coffee. I warned her. “No crying.”
      Well that didn't help at all. In fact it just opened the flood gates for both of us!
       So grateful for the tears. So grateful for so much!
        Thank you!

"One kind word can change someone's entire day." -Unknown

     “I think we should call the grandchildren and tell them not to come….”  he said.
   All my alarm bells went off. We often have the grandchildren over for a Saturday afternoon clay party and Cliff loves to teach them how to make fish, dinosaurs, and anything else their little heart’s desire.
   “You email them,” I said and then watched him struggle to disappoint his grandchildren. This was for real.  He really was sick. You have to remember in all of this, we are creatives and we tend to ignore our body. Cliff always wants to be strong, and I usually want to ignore - dismiss.
   But something had changed around Christmas time; Cliff had become lethargic – just a little less enthusiastic about life. He didn’t seem keen on starting his art classes in the new year and blamed it on COVID – a legitimate excuse. I just wondered if he was just aging. We are getting older….
   Then about two weeks ago he suffered severe constipation, so frustrated he actually went to a ‘walk in” clinic. He came home with the doctor’s advice to drink more water and to use RestoraLax,. I had suspected he wasn’t drinking enough….
   Cliff has had kidney failure before so needs to consciously drink water which he forgets about.     I remember one time coming home after a work weekend and he was just trembling. My first inclination was to call an ambulance or take him to emergency and then remembering his kidney failure. I paused to ask him what he had been eating and drinking while I was gone. “Coffee”  he said. Alarms went off so I actually had him sit up on the side of the bed and drink bottle after bottle of water. He calmed right down and slept soundly. So now for a doctor to recommend more water made so much sense to me.
   Drinking water and the laxatives, over the next while helped with the constipation but he was still obviously in some mild distress. It baffled both of us. I asked him over and over again if he was in pain – and he said he wasn’t.
   But it all took on a new level of severity when he said “no” to his grandchildren.
   It also baffled Natasha, our daughter-in-law, she sensed something. She started texting. Then       Syras came on the phone. “What’s with you guys?”
   We waffled.  It was Saturday…our “walk in” was closed.  Should we wait for Monday to see a doctor?  “No go to a clinic now… the one on Bison has great doctors,” the two of them insisted.
    So we went…. I think it was around 3:00  in the afternoon - dragging our feet.
The doctor was elderly, to the point and professional.  After a few questions, he asked Cliff to get on the examination table. He felt Cliff’s swollen abdomen and started to knead it softly. Cliff yelped.
   We left the clinic with a report and curt instructions to go to the Urgent Care at Victoria Hospital.
   I expected to wait with Cliff in the waiting room, but apparently that isn’t allowed anymore so I drove home.
   We texted back and forth. He went through it all in short order - blood work, Xray – CT scan….. CT can?!
    That’s when a new set of alarm bells went off for me. Three years ago, when Cliff suffered stones in his bladder, it took a year to get any real attention. Now in one day he gets all those tests?  Where is the waiting list?
    Then Cliff calls again…. “They are sending me to St. Boniface for more tests…..” His phone is dying he tells me. Then he adds. “They just told me that I have gallbladder cancer.” There it was the “C” word – so quickly - so stark and so ungiving!
    Then he adds that apparently, his cancer is in the gall bladder, some on the intestine and some on the liver. His phone is dying.  
    Apparently gall bladder cancer is the worst kind because it is a silent cancer and no one can know it’s there until it infects other places. It is also very dangerous to remove because if they touch any other parts of his body in the process, it will sill spread from those places.
   It was 6:52 in the evening. I texted the children to let them know what was happening. Odia immediate organized a facetime family conference. They were comforting and wonderful. Then Odia in her practical ways, said, “Mom bring him some supplies. Just drop it off at the reception desk – and they’ll make sure he gets it.”  – and she e-mailed me a list. Most important a cellphone charger cord!
     I drove over to the hospital and brought him everything she listed.
    He was actually moved to St. Boniface Hospital cancer ward at 1:00 Sunday morning and then at 6:00 in the morning, he was visited by the assessment team. 
    We talked first thing in the morning and Cliff told me that Dr. White wanted to see me for a consultation meeting. I’m sure she’s very nice, but she is the last person I want to see.
    It’s Sunday morning, Larry and Odia are pastors at the Cornerstone Vineyard Church in Winkler. Syras & Natasha are pastors of Maple crest Church in Winnipeg. Thank goodness Larry isn’t slated to preach but Syras is preaching that morning.
     My children ask – ever so softly …. “Do we go public and tell our congregations that Cliff has cancer?”  They are public persona's. They need to be open. Can we ask them to carry this kind of secret, masking their own grief?  That isn't healthy.
     Our inclination is to hide – when things aren’t going well.
     I cry – and cry – and want to just wallow in my fears and instant sadness.
    It’s a hard question – really hard. Isn’t our public life over? I wonder. Here we were just beginning to enjoy our privacy again. I don’t mind going public for a good cause like the Vitim Assistance Community Grants program…
    But for cancer? It’s too soon. Much too soon. We haven’t even had 12 hours – and what if it isn’t true? Notice the denial trying to creep in.
    Our children prod us ever so gently reminding us that they really are in the business of prayer – suffering – and all of that. “We can ask for prayer. They will want to pray for you.”
      Yes, there is that! We are social creatures! We need to put out our hands and touch the other…. We can’t do life alone!
    Those simple words, “I will pray for you” is just that. Prayer might open the Heavens – there is always that hope - but mainly it serves to nourish each other, It is a quick short hand note that says, “I want the best for you. I care for you.”
    I ask Cliff – he says yes.
    Well - that’s a bit like opening the flood gates. Who is our public? If we just tell the church – what about our out-of-town extended family?
     I wrote to our sibling.
     And then I thought of my friends and family on face book.
    So I wrote it down and just declared my heart
     On Facebook I wrote, “There is world trauma and we have had a lot of that lately starting with the trump trauma, then the Covid trauma and now the Ukraine trauma, but none of that compares to the trauma of having your husband moved to the cancer ward at St. B. The world kind of just stops revolving for a bit. Suddenly everything is out of focus replaced with startling clarity as we talk to each other, talk to family and talk to our God. Suddenly I love those simple words... "I'm praying for you." Wow do they become important....”
     Cliff calls me and tells me that he is now moving from admission to getting settled into a room with a view. The children decide that they want to come over and spend Sunday at our house… I sense the “role reversal” beginning to happen - fascinating and delightful.
     I decide not to go to church and start cleaning the house for our afternoon guests, when Cliff and I talk again and start to plan the day.
   I mention to Cliff that I will wait and come with the children.
    He says, “I want you to come alone before the kids come. I want to talk to you personally. Dr. White said something that you need to know.”
     Oh yuck. My heart sinks even further.  I know its not going to be good news.
     I get ready but I can’t drive. The car is covered with snow, hasn’t been plugged in, the driveway isn’t shovelled, the roads are treacherous, the snow banks intimidating, it’s really cold out and I don’t know about the hospital parking.
     So I just call a taxi – I indulge.
    I find his room… the view is nothing but a brick wall but it is a view. He looks good except for the drip tubes and such.
    I want to know. And then he whispers to me –“I have 10 months to live!
   There are different options he tells me vaguely. He doesn’t know the specifics, but in short there seems to be three choices, live a short life with no treatment or live longer and suffer through the cancer treatment.
    What dreadful choices?
    My first response is envy!  I tell him bluntly, “You can’t leave first, then I have to deal with the house, the downsizing etc.” He laughs. I thought I was safe, his father died when he as 94 and Cliff is physically very much like his father.  I thought it was guaranteed… we smile through our tears.
    I go home by taxi. The children come for the afternoon, and we have our three beautiful grand children watch a movie downstairs as we have our ‘adult talk’
     The conversation is astonishing as we process it all – openly – crying and laughing…
     Then the three of us go off to see Cliff and Odia and Syras meet with him separately - only one visitor allowed at a time.
      And each of them has a long chat --- a real long one. I have no idea what they are talking about but I notice at the end of our visit – we are all at peace.
     We return to the house and have a quick pizza before they all go home and I am left alone! I have a moment. I need a movie to escape so I watch “Blackbird.” Starring Susan Sarandon a movie I had starring to watch, not really knowing what it was about.  I’m into it before I realize it is all about M.A.I.D   - it’s all about death and I want to turn it off a thousand times but I am glued to the TV. I am now fascinated with death.
     I can’t believe myself!
    Cliff and I talk before going to sleep – whispering to each other debriefing the day. I look at my calendar. My Monday is loaded with clients from 12:30 to 9:00 at night. He is facing a biopsy in the morning and more tests. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to see each other – it’s a day of clearing the slate.
    The next day I am busy with calls in the morning and I look outside and see that the car is still covered with snow – I call a taxi. I'm getting soft.
    I wonder if I will be able to be present for my eight clients. I know from the past one can “shelve trauma” one can disassociate in a healthy way for a bit of time.  I enjoy my work – and the day just slips away easily as I apply myself to the stories I am hearing and see remarkable movement. My work is so fulfilling! And then I sit down and write out all my reports. I call a taxi – I come home. It is 12:00 midnight.
     Cliff and I have our “end of day” chat. He’s doing okay. He had the blockage in his bowel removed, and the scheduled biopsy. We have been texting throughout the day – we are making plans.
     And then its Tuesday…we meet with Dr. White and Dr. Reimer.
    Cancer is at Stage 4 – advanced - adenocarcinoma. Surgery is not recommended. Prognosis, with chemo – 9 to 10 months, without under 6 months. They would not commit on the quality of life for either.
     Then we take a taxi home together – and we are feeling wonderful to be together again. We’re clearing our day books – we are just going to wander down this new path together.
     And we’re doing it with friends and family. Thank you so much for your care.