Lessons from Lou

This blog is about my journey through the brain tumor world with my dear husband, Lou. While not a journey I would wish on even my worst enemy, it is a journey that has enlightened and awakened me to what lies within us, and around us, each and every moment of each and every day. There are lessons here....lessons in this journey.....lessons from Lou....that I would like to share with you.

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Location: Chicago, Illinois

Picture of Lou (sick) and I at a party, circa 2005, long ago and faraway. I'm now a middle aged widow, trying to get my life back together. Mother of two young adult sons, living with two adult cats.

Sunday, July 23, 2006

It's the Little Things

It's the little things along the way, the small, sometimes subtle (sometimes not), changes in the situation, that push us, kicking and screaming, into the next phase of this journey. I cling with all my might to hang on to whatever is the current "normal", only to find I must, at some point, release it, and move on to the new "normal". Soon, they all add up to an unrecognizeable life, but still, I cling. Take the hospital bed. It would have been so much easier to have had it sooner. Easier for us, taking care of Lou, and easier for Lou. But no, I waited until it was actually dangerous for Lou to be in our bed because he had tumbled out, before getting the hospital bed. I ignored the need until I couldn't any longer. And then, there it was. I pushed it right up next to our bed, raised it to the same level, put pillows over the small break between the two beds, and slept holding onto Lou as if it were one giant bed. It worked wonderfully for over a month. Not now. Now, we need the beds separated, so that we can get around the bed to take care of things during the night. I said "let's try to keep it the way it is for awhile more".... and we did, for two weeks. But last night, the beds were separated. The bars went up on the side closest to me. The space between the two is as narrow as it can be. But it's there. I can only put my hand through the bars and touch Lou's arm, and sometimes, hold his hand. It's not good enough. There are times he gets very anxious during his sleep. I need to be there. One more little thing, in a string of so many, that add up to this unrecognizeable life. And still, I cling.

3 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Down at Millenium park today...it was a hot one. I thought of you and your comments about just getting out and enjoying the little things.

6:41 PM  
Blogger Sue said...

Keep clinging Cathy; they are the things that will make future memories. Enjoy every moment good or bad. I just returned from 11 days in HOT Sun City and all I can say is I wish I could make one more memory but I can't . . . . . .I love you and pray for you my friend.

9:16 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

It's human nature to resist change, I think. Only the mavericks among us welcome it with open arms. And when changes seem to continually be for the worse, I completely get why you are dragging your feet. We search for any kind of stability. And yes, that sometimes means we are late to embrace changes that are actually good or helpful. It happens when you've lived on a roller coaster for a long time. As usual, I don't have any wonderful advice or sage words, just lots of love, and lots of encouragement. You're doing good, Cath, real good. Prayers coming.

11:13 AM  

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