Rich wanted to know what things were on my list. Not his usual way of requesting store supplies. “You need more mint cookies?” I asked. He never could say the “d” word so he cleared his throat and rearranged the junk mail in front of him on the kitchen table as I waited. “No, your list . . .things you’ll need. . . later.”
It took me a moment. I never used the “d” word either. “ You mean when I’m a widow?” I actually did have a widow’s list, a fanciful list of things to look forward to that kept me going when things got rough. It had entries like “Learn to tango” with sub-tasks like “price lessons at Arthur Murray” and “shop for dress with above-the-knee slit.” I didn’t think this was the list Rich was referring to. I was glad I had never written it down.
The hospice social worker had been busy. She and Rich had discussed ways he could still be my hero. Were there things he could do to help me now so I wouldn’t have to do them alone later? He stared like a little boy hoping against hope, embarrassed by the absurdity of his own question. I wanted to kiss him. I couldn’t disappoint him. I thought quickly. “Well, yes, I do have a list.”
“You do?” He brightened and sat back in his chair.
I took an empty envelope from the stack of opened mail and reached for a pen. “The furnace. It’s noisy. I’ve always hated it and I can’t change the filters by myself.”
“I know your arms are too short. Let’s get you a new one.” He beamed. “What else?”
Within a few minutes we had a list and Rich was all over it. He couldn’t wait to tackle the first project, replacing our old dangerously-worn, six-foot wooden ladder. He was eager to check out aluminum ones that would be easy for me to set up under our magnolia tree and lift up to a storage hook in the garage. He drove to Home Depot by himself to evaluate them.
It was June 10, 2008. I know the date because he got a speeding ticket (the kind they mail to your house with the picture of you sitting behind the wheel) for going 32 MPH in a 20 MPH school zone. A well-known speed trap that he warned me about on a regular basis.
We went to Home Depot several days later so I could make the final selection. He had me fold them and open them up. He pointed out the importance of keeping the side bars level and locked. And, of course, I should never use one in a storm or lean it against electrical wires.
Years earlier, I would have indignantly reminded him that I am not an idiot. Instead I listened intently, chose one with his approval (it had a drop-down shelf suitable for holding a can of paint) and loaded it on a platform cart for its ride to the check stand.
Together we worked through the list. We gave away a stack of fire wood from the backyard that had been moved twice but seldom used in twenty years. We put casters on my butcher block in the kitchen. We had two overgrown sweet gums removed from the parking strip so I wouldn’t have to rake leaves or worry about broken sidewalk. The final item on the list, the furnace which was installed the end of August, is a story all its own. But one to be told on another day.
My widow’s list was a gift we gave each other. We enjoyed one more summer together with “things to do” that didn’t involve doctors, pills or dying. I could have handled all those projects on my own, probably more quickly and more efficiently. But thanks to Rich, I didn’t have to.
Tags: patient/caregiver communication, what the patient can do for the caregiver
March 2, 2009 at 11:59 pm |
The ladder story struck a note–my husband fell off the roof 9 years ago as he was getting back on the ladder. During the first week of his 2-month long coma/PVS, we were told he would definitely die soon. Later that he would not make progress beyond 18 months. Now after a lot of work and experimentation, I know how to move him along and every few months he does something better. Or worse, depending on his emotions and health.
Your blog is funny, and goodness knows a caregiver needs laughter, but I’m sorry you had to go through all that.
My story is The Caregiver’s Tale: The True Story of a Woman, Her Husband Who Fell Off the Roof, and Traumatic Brain Injury (available only on amazon.com). I gave a copy to the neighbor, who later told me what a funny book it was. Yes and no.
I wish you well. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and events.
Marie
March 6, 2009 at 12:27 am |
I too had a widow’s list. Similar to your secret one. It had 3 things on it. 1) a sewing machine. A really good, expensive one. Something I can just sit quietly by and create lovely things; 2) taking my kids camping. Just getting out of the house I’d been tied to and enjoying the sights, sounds and smells of nature. Quietly relaxing, enjoying an taking care of myself and only myself. 3) moving. I’ve stayed where I have because it is what my husband wanted. Everywhere I go these days seem to be a reminder of him.
I’ve done the first 2 things, and plan on doing more of #2. We seem to need it. Life is still pretty sad and difficult missing someone you love and shared so much with. #3 is out there somewhere when and if it still seems like a good idea.
March 7, 2009 at 5:48 am |
Great list – the secret one too!
After my hubby’s accident, I pushed him out the door with his buddies to ride motorcycles one weekend. We went to K-mart and got him stuff to pack his gear, new boots, etc. He didn’t think he’d last more than an hour on the trip. I made sure he had what he needed for the whole weekend. He did. The boost lasted a few weeks.
Then the next fear/phobia set in. The next project/objective/list began.