Sal, Irma, Hudson, Dave at Graduation in May '10
“To us, family means putting your arms around each other and being there.” ~Barbara Bush
What can I say? Dave’s parents are amazing.
When Dave was diagnosed and we called them it was brutal for us. This is not a call you want to make. But to ask them NOT to come was even more difficult. Can you imagine? Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from my children in need. However, we had no home there. Dave was staying with friends. All I was doing was sitting in a hospital chair all day keeping Dave company. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that they could do that would be helpful in physically being there. In fact, it would become cumbersome, because of our mid-relocation situation.
As horrible as it was for them, and I know it was. They stayed away with the understanding that we needed them in a very big way, just not right then. We needed them once I got us moved from Maryland to California into our new house. Weeks they had to wait and prepare. But they did and I thank them so much for being willing, although reluctantly, to wait and work with us on all the moving parts that were in flux.
They flew in the night before the movers were to arrive and we were to take possession of the house. They found a hotel nearby from the airport and we picked them up on our way to Elk Grove. It was terribly emotional for them as you can imagine. Dave had lost a lot of weight and was still struggling with pain issues. I think the hardest part, and there were many, was his altered personality on the steroids (Dexamethasone), lovingly known as “Roid Rage“. If you go out to the WebMD link you will also notice that it isn’t just the steroids that alter the personality changes. The pain, the narcotics to manage the pain, anxiety, perhaps anti-depressants or anti-psychotics, etc., all play a part. Your loved one goes from living their life with all their little quirky personality traits to being severely physically and chemically altered. The caregiver and family members are struggling with their own issues concerning the crisis. Their own fixed ideas, fears, worries, frustrations and abilities to manage their anxiety and overwhelmed feelings of what to do, are they going to die, how can I help… It is just one big MISH MASH of the unexpected, unpredictable, unknown! It is stress and anxiety at a whole new level. It is mental Guerilla Warfare! (Ok, back to the topic at hand…)
Irma helping with the kitchen
So we had quite a new dance for us all to do. Me, Dave’s wife, being the primary mover, shaker, decision maker, manager, and Dave’s parents being in a supportive role to me and to Dave, their son, who they love dearly. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for them to trust me enough to save his life to the best of my ability when they just wanted me to perhaps move over and let them care for their baby. Children are always babies to their parents, I get it. But he is my husband and we had been together for decades and had children together and it was my job. However, I could not do it alone. I needed help, and they appreciated fully that I asked for their help. I needed them. They were all too willing to do what was needed and I can’t express fully, how much I valued all that they did.
“Nobody can do everything, but everyone can do something.” – Author Unknown
In their 70s they pushed themselves, and me, daily, to get the house operational. Making decisions on where to hang stuff, how to arrange stuff, etc., was just suddenly so hard for me. I had few attention units left to confront it. I really didn’t care. Irma & Sal, pushed me everyday, “Come on. Let Sal hang it for you while we are here. Let us help you.” It wasn’t just get the kitchen operational and bed put together with sheets. It was let us help you make a “home”. Six weeks later, they reluctantly flew home to Florida, crying all the way to the airport.
Simply put, they are “Good People”.
After we finished Dave’s collection and first SCT in January ’09, I called and asked for their help again. I had driven 2,200 miles from N. Calif to Little Rock so we could have our car for the many weeks would be there. Originally I had planned that Dave would join me on the drive home. As you can imagine, I started to rethink this idea. He was pretty beat up from everything. Weakened and still on pain meds. I am very focused when I drive, I can do it for 10-12 hours a day. I started thinking, Dave won’t be able to do this. His immune system is pretty suppressed. Hotel Rooms or even friend’s guest rooms, is this a good idea? He had been away physically from work for almost 9 weeks. Hours on an airplane vs days in a car…. emmm….
So I called them and asked if they were willing to fly out ahead of Dave, open up the house, buy groceries, disinfect, and pick Dave up from the airport and care for him while I drove home. “Of course.” They were once again, fabulous, and I’m sure relieved to have “something to do” for their baby boy.
Selfishly I was thinking, Dave won’t want to listen to my “book on tape”. He won’t be able to make the distance I want to make. I want to visit a couple of my friends on the way home. I need a break from him, just for a few days…
It all worked out great. Dave got home on a Friday night. He had the weekend to recover more and sleep in his own bed and have private quality time with his parents. Irma got to cook for him and Sal got to watch the news with him and they were happy.
I got to listen to my books on tape and enjoy driving across the country and visiting friends along the way. When I finally made it home, I was exhausted. Emotionally and physically. I think I could have slept for a month. But alas, it was not to be. Much more to do… New doctor, new drug regimen, scheduling when to go back, dealing with a whole host of new issues. My job was not done…
