Widow

Widow Wednesday: What Did You Say?

February 15, 2012 By Sherry 6 Comments

My amazing friend Robin recently ran with the Widow version of “S%*t People Say” meme. She put a call out to her widow friends to gather the (mostly) well-meaning things that people say to widows and came up with this hysterical (maybe just to widows?) video:

I heard most, if not all, of these and one point or another. Most of the time, people were really trying to be thoughtful. Or at least not insulting. Y’all, these phrases are never thoughtful and are almost always insulting.

So, here’s the secret to what to say to a widow: “I’m sorry.” If you have the need to say something else, ask, “What can I do for you?” Those may be the two most important phrases a widow/widower can hear.

Filed Under: Widow Tagged With: I'm Sorry, stupid people, widow

Widow Wednesday: Giving Up Hope

January 18, 2012 By Sherry 5 Comments

Several months ago, when I was dropping the kids off at my Grandmother’s house, my attention was caught by a story on the TODAY show. The story was about a person who had woken from a coma. I tend to notice all of those stories, but then this had the phrase I hate. The patient woke up when, “the family was just about to give up hope”. This isn’t just a pet peeve. This phrase cuts me to the core every single time I hear it. There are so many things about the phrase that get me. And I’m not going to claim that any of them are rational. I know those stories aren’t about *me*. Regardless, they get me. So, if you can’t put up with some crazy, you should stop reading here.

When a person wakes from a coma, just in the nick of time, and the family never gave up hope? It implies that I did, and if I hadn’t, Mark would have woken up. Because, you know, just a little more hope would have turned those black brain scans back to ones full of light and activity. A little more hope would have cleared his lungs. A little more hope would have made it possible for him to swallow without choking to death. If only I’d had more hope.

Mark’s dad, Larry, literally never gave up hope that Mark would wake. We were at the hospice unit where Mark would die in 8 days and Larry was still urging Mark to wake. It got so painful that I asked him to stop when I was in the room. I just couldn’t hear it. So, if just having hope wakes someone from a coma? Larry would have been enough hope for all of us.

I hear “hope” and “faith” the same way. If only I’d had more hope/faith. Which means what? I didn’t pray right? The hundreds of strangers lifting Mark up in whatever prayer/thoughts/pleading to their own personal God or high power didn’t count? That’s what I hear when someone says they had faith.

I know. I know that, logically, nothing would have changed if I’d had more hope. I think it hurts me to hear that phrase, too, because if Mark had woken up…he wouldn’t have been Mark any longer. He would have been a shell. Probably. At some point, I knew it was better to let him go. His body could have lived on life support and in a coma for a long time. He had already fought of lung infections that would have quickly killed older, sicker patients. But we had talked about it and I knew he wouldn’t want to live like that. But, if I’d had more hope, and he had woken up, I would have sentenced him to a life trapped in a broken body and mind. Probably. But, I’ll never know for sure.

You can’t imagine how hopeless that still makes me feel.

Filed Under: Widow Tagged With: brain, coma, giving up, hope, widow, widow wednesday

Autumn & Donating Organs

November 8, 2011 By Sherry 6 Comments

I really love the Fall. It was always one of my favorite times of the year growing up. The temperatures were cooling down, basketball season was gearing up, and you had Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas packed close together. But, every Autumn since Mark died has been really hard. I’ve written about it before, so I won’t rehash it now.

This year, Fall started out differently though. I didn’t have the anxiety going in to October that I’ve had the past six years. I was making a conscious decision to not think too much. To avoid counting down the days. I did pretty good until Columbus Day, and then okay again after that day passed. I had a lot of hope for this year’s Autumn.

And then Abby got sick. Abby is N’s Aunt and one of his favorite people in the entire world. I’m not exaggerating, he loves her so much. But she’s in the hospital and not doing well. Her illness throws me back to Mark in the hospital because of the details that her daughter tells me. Levels and organ functions…things I believed I had forgotten. Turns out I haven’t. I still know what your Creatine levels should be when you’re healthy. So, here’s the deal. Nicholas’ beloved Aunt needs a new liver. She’s waiting and we’re waiting. And we can’t visit her because the kiddos have way too many germs to share. She’s not answering her mobile any more, it’s too emotionally difficult for her to talk. I don’t have much more to say except to tell her we love her and lots of people are praying (or sending good vibes or thoughts or healing), so I leave messages on her phone.

Right now I’m pretty pissed off at Fall again. I know it’s not Autumn’s fault, but crap this season is hard on my family. I’m trying not to dwell. And, as my wise friend, SueBob reminded me yesterday, there is something you can do to help Abby and others like her. Sign up to be an organ donor. I am. If you’re in Texas, go to www.donatelifeTexas.org to sign up to become an organ donor. It will take three minutes and could mean the world to a family in the future.

Chances are your liver won’t save Abby, but you might save someone else one day. I would love to hear that you’ve become an organ donor (or already are). And, of course, I’d love to hear that you’re praying or thinking of Abby.

Filed Under: Mom & Family, Widow Tagged With: Autumn, Fall, Nicholas, organ donation

I Hate Columbus Day

October 10, 2011 By Sherry 2 Comments

I either love Columbus Day or I hate it. I hate it because it was the last day that Mark was home. The Tuesday after Columbus Day he went into the second hospital and never came back. I was off of work for Columbus Day and together with Mark’s parents we decided that it would be the test day for Mark to see if he could take care of Nicholas by himself. Until then, Mark’s parents stayed at our apartment with Nicholas while I went to the office. They were exhausted and wanted to be home as much as we were exhausted and wanted to be back to normal.

So we spent the weekend together. Mark figured out how to get around the apartment without running into anything or dropping the baby. We moved the furniture around, we got the playpen and crib set up so Mark could manuever. And Mark snuggled with Nicholas. That’s why I love the memory of that weekend, that Columbus Day. Mark got a full day of snuggle time with Nicholas. No pressure on him because I was home too. Except for one moment when he really wanted to go for a drive (and drive himself) where he got out at a store and fell, it was a very good weekend.

He felt confident that he would be able to take care of Nicholas starting on the Tuesday after Columbus Day. He said it would be slow going, but Nicholas wasn’t really rambunctious or anything, so he thought he could handle it. He was excited to be getting back to normal. We were searching for doctors, figuring out his new diet, learning what “normal” was going to be for our little family.

It only lasted that weekend. On Tuesday he would be back in a hospital and would never sleep in our bed again. Just over a week after that happy weekend he would be in a coma. One month after that he would be in hospice taking his last breath. His parents and sister were on one side, my mother, Nicholas and I on the other. His mother held his right hand while Nicholas and I held his left. When it was clear that he was at the end, I turned off the last loud machine associated with his death. The room got quiet, you could only hear breathing. Labored breathing, gasping breaths, N’s faster baby breath, and our breathing…trying to stay calm for Mark. Letting him know it was okay. Nobody really talking except to tell Mark we loved him and were with him. And then he was gone.

It didn’t all really start on Columbus Day, of course; but, I’ve always associated today with Mark’s final fight. It wasn’t until just now, as I was writing this, that I thought that maybe I should be happy when Columbus Day rolls around as it was the last weekend we had together. Just me, Mark and his precious boy.

Filed Under: Widow Tagged With: Columbus Day, hospice, Mark, Nicholas, widow

Conversations with Nicholas ~ Dog Heaven Edition

August 26, 2011 By Sherry 8 Comments

On the way to school early this week…

Nicholas: Mom?
Me: Yes?
N: Do you think that Brittany [our dog who died about 1.5 years ago] has found Daddy Mark? In Heaven, I mean?
M: Of course. I think that Daddy Mark was waiting for Brittany the second she got to Heaven. What do you think?
N: I think so too. And I think they’re playing fatch.
M: “Fatch”? Do you mean “fetch”?
N: No. Fatch. Fatch is catch and fetch together [editor's note: the "duh" was implied here]

So there you have it. Brittany is in Heaven with Daddy Mark and they are having a blast playing Fatch.

Filed Under: Mom & Family, Widow Tagged With: Brittany, conversations, Dog, Heaven, Mark, Nicholas

What’s In A Name?

August 22, 2011 By Sherry 8 Comments

He wanted to know when he would be a “Smith.” That’s how the conversation started, with Nicholas asking when he was going to be a “Smith” like the rest of us. William and I started having conversations about him adopting Nicholas before we even got married. We went back and forth mostly because we were under the false impression that N would lose his survivor’s benefits from Social Security if William adopted him. And then I got pregnant with Tobin and the conversations became more frequent and serious.

When we started talking with each other and Nicholas about what Tobin’s name would be, N was slightly confused about T’s last name. When it clicked for him that T’s last name would be the same as William’s and the same as part of mine, he asked, “When will I get to be a Smith?” We didn’t really have an answer for him.

We also hesitated to start the adoption process because of Mark’s father. No matter the logical reasons for the adoption, I worried that Grandpa would think we were trying to erase Mark’s status as N’s biological father.

Once we cleared up that N would not, in fact, lose his SS benefits, we started the process of adoption. It took a lot of resources (time, effort and financial) on our part. In fact, I was quite surprised by how much we had to do to get the adoption done (thank goodness we had a good lawyer!) It seems like William shouldn’t have to have another background check for the rest of his life since he’s now had both state and federal.

The most intimidating part of the process (besides the paperwork I’m now doing to get N’s name legally changed) was the home visit from the Social Worker. Before she did her home study, she sent us reference forms. We had to get references from both family and non-family members. Everyone had to fill out a four page form talking about what kind of parent William would be (the answer, of course, is that he would be a good one). We’re so grateful for the time our friends and family took to fill those out and get them back to the Social Worker. We prepped N for the Social Worker’s visit because we didn’t want him freaked out that a stranger came to our home and started asking a bunch of questions. It was an incredibly surreal couple of hours, having someone come in to your home for the sole purpose of judging you. I had to stop myself from saying, “Stop judging us!” because I thought it would be funny. But you shouldn’t use your time with the Social Worker as funny time. Except for N who had the Social Worker completely cracking up. Any time I feel bad about my parenting, I will read the Social Worker’s report. When someone who sees bad parenting and kids who have had bad parents everyday says that you are a good one? That’s good. Plus, it’s nice to have evidence for when the boys are teens and say that we’re bad parents.

The last major hurdle we had was telling Mark’s father. We left the task until the adoption was almost complete. There was no reason for keeping it so long except that I worried that he would be worried/sad/upset. And he was. And probably still is, but I’m hoping to work on that some more.

So, after months of work and conversation and worry and anticipation we went in front of a judge for 3 minutes and that was it. And then we took a picture and now he’s got “Smith” in his name.

Please allow me to introduce the Smith/Carr-Smith/Deer-Smith family (and our Judge).

Filed Under: Mom & Family, Widow Tagged With: adoption, Dad, Mark, Nicholas, Social Security, Social Worker, William

Widow Wednesday: Movies Lie

June 29, 2011 By Sherry 3 Comments

In real life, comas aren’t like they are in the movies. That may not be a surprise to you, but it was to me. I was shocked by so many things when Mark got sick and during his time in the hospital(s). Like his coma. They said he was in a coma, but I didn’t believe them for a few days because it didn’t look like comas look in the movies. I know. That’s stupid, right? To be surprised that reality wasn’t the same as it was portrayed in the movies or on television? Crazy! But I had nothing to compare it to, so I was confused and disbelieving.

I wasn’t there when Mark went into the coma. It was early in the morning, while we were getting up and getting ready to head to the hospital for our daily visit. I got the call to come up to the hospital right away as he had been choking and when I got there, he was in the coma. Coincidentally, as I was walking into the ICU for the first time to see what was going on, I heard the family of another patient being told that he was out of his coma. I thought, “Huh, that’s good.” I had no idea what an enormous moment that could be. Why? Because people come out of comas all the time in movies. And they look good when they do.

The first day of Mark’s coma was the last day we had any contact with him. The fact that he was tracking us with his eyes and squeezed our hands in response to questions and prompts probably didn’t help my impression of what a coma was. But the first day was it, there was no more reaction from him that we could tie to a prompt or question or anything in the environment. So he should be peaceful and still and quiet. Because that’s what comas are like in the movies. But he wasn’t. His eyes were open, his body twitched, and for a few days his body seemed to be fighting. He was combative. Which is not what a coma is supposed to look like, right?

At one point the doctors had to order restraints on his arms because he was jerking so much they were afraid he was going to pull out his IVs. Who has to have arm restraints when they’re in a coma? It turns out that quite a few people do.

Almost six years later and I still get mad when I see a coma in a movie. I almost always say, under my breath, “That is such a lie.” It’s possible I’m slightly pissed at movie comas. But check it out, smart scientists are too. Seriously, though, you should read that article. It’s got some good information and definitions and it proves I’m not a wackadoo for being mad at movies. A few months after Mark died, I remembered that patient who had come out of the coma the day Mark went into his. And I was truly amazed at the miracle that that man waking represented. But I was still mad.

Filed Under: Widow Tagged With: coma, lies, movies, widow

Widow Wednesday: The Hands

June 15, 2011 By Sherry Leave a Comment

There was a spot of dirt under the middle fingernail of Mark’s right hand when he was in the hospital the second time. Every day we put lotion on his hands and Carmex on his lips and aftershave on his cheeks as he lay unresponsive. But I couldn’t get that speck of dirt out from under his fingernail, and I didn’t want to try too hard. His body was becoming so fragile I was afraid I’d cut him or hurt him in some other way if I used any force. The speck bugged me. The ICU nurses kept him very clean and by then he was on a feeding tube and a vent so it’s not like he was doing much to get dirty. But that fucking speck was there. And then a new nurse came to the unit an the speck was gone. I commented on how clean his fingernails were and the nurse said she had noticed the speck of dirt so she wrapped his hand in warm washcloths, put a plastic sack around them and let them steam a little. She said it’s like a little steam bath and it loosens all of the dirt. I was so appreciative of that speck’s disappearance.

Later, Mark’s Mom and I were sitting with him, one on each side holding his hands. That seemed to be the way we ended up when we were in the room at the same time. She’s the one who pointed out that his fingernails seemed to have stopped growing. I don’t know if that is technically true, or if they were just growing so slowly that we couldn’t tell. It seemed like a bad sign to us, like his body was already putting its energy toward more important things. I think about it almost every time I cut N’s fingernails. I think that I’m glad he’s healthy enough that his fingernails have to be cut every few weeks.

Filed Under: Widow Tagged With: fingernails, hands, ICU, Mark, nurses

Widow Wednesday: I Don’t Know How

April 27, 2011 By Sherry 9 Comments

When people ask, I don’t know what to say. Because I don’t really know what happened to cause Mark’s death. The physicians had theories but could never say for sure. It would be easier to be able to say “cancer” or “heart attack” but I can’t. Well, I could, but that would be a lie. Instead, I sort of stumble around. I could say he starved to death because he literally did (I never say this because it makes me feel awful). I could say he had organ failure because he did (but I don’t because I just thought of it). I could say that if it had happened all at once it would have been that he choked to death (which is sometimes what I say). But I don’t have a short answer so the person who asked and I both end up feeling awkward. Or maybe it’s just me who does. The thing I don’t say is that he died of cirhosis of the liver even though it’s what is on his death certificate. And I don’t say it because it’s what the first set of doctors said, but the second set of doctors contradicted it.

So, I say that Mark got a stomach bug, couldn’t stop throwing up, and every time he threw up he aspirated, and every time he aspirated it caused brain damage, until finally there was enough brain damage that he went into a coma that he wasn’t going to recover from, so I had his body taken off of life support, he breathed on his own but he slowly wasted away over 8 days until he finally stopped breathing. But that’s just what we *think* happened. Because except for the brain damage, Mark’s body was perfectly healthy when we took him off life support. Because we weren’t able to do an autopsy, even though his physician ordered it, because of a bureaucratic mix up. Simple, no?

I get mad every time I see Mark’s death certificate because he worked so hard to get sober, I hate that it has cirrhosis of the liver as his cause of death.

Not that you asked.

Filed Under: Widow Tagged With: cancer, cause of death, cirhosis, Mark

Widow Wednesday: Why I Reach Out

March 16, 2011 By Sherry 4 Comments

Even five years after I became a widow I can remember the overwhelming feeling of loneliness and fear I had when I joined this group. You aren’t supposed to lose a spouse when you’re young, when you have a baby, when you’re supposed to have 40 more years together. So, when you do? You’re pretty much scared out of your mind.

When someone tells you they understand? When someone tells you you aren’t a complete nutjob because your mind alternates between running like a scared rabbit and feeling like it’s completely stopped? When someone doesn’t ask how they can help, but finds ways to help without asking? Then that person is the most helpful person in your world at that moment.

So, even though it’s been five years since Mark died, I still talk about how it feels to be a widow. I still talk about fears and pain and hope for a widow. I still talk about joining this group of people because it may help someone not feel like a nutjob. And what’s better than that?

Filed Under: Widow Tagged With: helping, nutjob, talking, widow