Recent reflections

Our family enjoyed several days at the cabin in Angelus Oaks after Thanksgiving, the first time Susan had been there since May. We’ll normally get 6-8 trips each year to our family’s mountain retreat that my grandparents built, but we've had to settle for fewer visits recently due to Susan’s illness. We enjoyed relaxing with my mom, sister and brother; family meals, forest walks, and watching football and movies. I said before that I tease Susan relentlessly and often proceed past the point of annoyance to complete a manic moment. One evening at the cabin I said one too many jokes and surpassed her limit. She decided to ignore me. She did a phenomenal job, to the amusement of the household. When I spoke to her, she would not acknowledge me and would ask if anyone heard anything. When I got into her line of sight, she would gaze past me. She became the relentless one and was perfect at it. I knew in a short while she would need my help to get ready for bed and thought she’d end it there. I was wrong. She allowed me back into her world, but only as her bathroom attendant. And she insisted I avert my eyes from her. We ended the night with a return to reality; but Susan gained my unwavering respect as a most worthy adversary on the field of contest.

One day last week as Susan sat at the dining table after a meal, Austin came up to hug is mom and then nibbled on her ear. Just then he whispered he’d bit her ear off and asked if she wanted it back. She didn’t respond. He asked again. She just looked around blankly. Then he moved to her “good” ear and asked again if she wanted her ear back. She said that would be good. Austin got a kick out of his funny mom.

On Monday I sang with our church’s Holiday Chorale in a Christmas presentation for Pathways Volunteer Hospice at the Lakewood Civic Center. It was a poignant opportunity and a privilege for our choir to minister among people who provide such important help to the terminally ill and to grieving families. That night as we lay on our pillows I told Susan about the evening. We talked about knowing three other people with brain tumors who had needed hospice care before they died. We recognized those who need hospice care are usually in the end stages of life and don’t communicate very much, and how hard that must be for a loved one. We wondered together whether Susan would ever need that type of care since it seems so far off from her presently good condition. I told her how glad I am that we have each other now and that we can talk about anything. I’m glad I have my friend, my partner, and my sweetheart with me. I recalled her occupational therapist’s question that day whether Susan had resumed normal social activities, perhaps like talking on the phone with a girlfriend. Susan said no, but said she didn’t really talk on the phone a lot to friends before her illness. We have close friends we love, but we realized she doesn’t have a chummy BFF girlfriend and I don’t have a best buddy. We have each other. Susan talks to me on the phone. I hang out with her. She said we’re none the worse for not having those types of friends. I said we have a strong marriage, a marvelous and enjoyable relationship. We prayed together and were thankful.