My dear and wondrous friends … tomorrow will be one week since My Dan died. I miss him so much I can barely breathe. Today I received 15 awful, dreaded copies of Dan’s death certificate. It was all I could do to keep from falling to my knees. But I made it home where I could speak with a couple of friends who made me laugh and remember and find my legs again. Here’s what I learned today:

1. No one should EVER be a widow or widower.
2. If that happens to you, you must be strong. Strong like Wonder Woman or Super Man.
3. If you feel desperate, it’s okay.
4. Tears will happen.
5. Tears will happen again.

My Dan has died.

My Dan has been placed on hospice. A lovely nurse named Star evaluated My Dan and deemed him qualified for service. Things for him will now be wonderfully and blessedly simplified … no more running to three different doctor appointments a week. No more having people come to the house forcing him to exercise with bands and weights in spite of a lung filling with fluid and a body failing with exhaustion and multiple organ disease. Comorbidities, it’s called … when many systems and diseases are involved. Each one builds upon the other, causing a final crash of failure.

It’s good to make the process as gentle as possible. Hospice does that when the time is right.

For us now, there will be one doctor, one nurse, a simplified medication regimen, a calm and quiet atmosphere, and love, love, love. Dan is sleeping nearly 22 out of 24 hours a day now. He’s now on oxygen, which helps his breathing. With a right lung infiltrate and plural effusion, breathing was becoming increasingly difficult by the hour. The hum of the oxygenator provides not only relief, but a comfortable white noise in which to relax. There are some relaxing meds also now on board … liquid medication to help Dan ease into a new sense of serenity.

Even with calming medication, every time Dan wakes, he says he’s disappointed that he woke up. He’s tired. I’m doing my very best to give him a soft and generous landing place whenever he’s awake. His organs are not actively dying at the moment, but he’s simply and completely tired. Things can go this way for quite a while … he’s still eating and drinking fluids as he wants. Although his thoughts are confused and disorganized, he’s still talking. His disappointment may need to stick around for a while. In the meantime, he has Wilson the Labradoodle and Serena the Siamese to keep watch and provide an extra dose of comfort. There is something to be said for the power of fur.

It’s a process … a long process … that we’re navigating as carefully and thoughtfully as we can. It’s been 12 years for us now. No wonder we’re getting tired!

Thank you all for your love. ~ Auburn