Today was a difficult day.
We met with Lynn’s oncologist this afternoon. There we got the official word that the chemo hasn’t worked, and they’ve run out of any meaningful tools to fight the cancer further. It has, as you imagine, spread extensively through her liver, and the prospects are, quite simply, not favorable. We all understand–and accept–that it just isn’t going to go our way this time.
As such, we are beginning home hospice care tomorrow. We will set up a hospital bed in our living room and begin to have regular visits by a home hospice nurse. The objective in this case is to provide Lynn some level of comfort as this chapter in our lives comes to a close.
At this point, it is difficult to provide any time frames. I am guessing we will understand more once we get the visit from the hospice nurse tomorrow. In looking at the information they provided us, though, and in talking today to both the hospice nurse and Lynn’s oncology nurse, it looks (by way of Lynn’s current symptoms) that we’re solidly in the 1-2 weeks column.
Based on that, I am going to go ahead and suspend the visitation calendar concept. Instead, I will simply post on this web site days where Lynn is able to accept visitors. If we’ve already agreed to a day and time next week, please feel free to still stop by. Right now, however, I am reserving the bulk of next week for Lynn’s brothers and sisters who are coming in from out of town to see her.
Also, I want to make certain that Zach and Sydney get to spend plenty of time with their mom. That means on days when she CAN accept visitors, I would like to limit the times to 9 am to 3 pm. I am going to pretty much reserve the evenings for family time.
I know this is hard news to read. Know, though, that we’re okay…hanging in there. We’ve shed plenty of tears, yes. But mostly, we’re celebrating.
I will share with you now what I’ve shared so many times over the past days and weeks… The True Family–we’re not humanists. We believe that–regardless of what a particular individual might call it–it’s Paradise on the other side. And we believe we’ll see our beloved wife and mom again someday. We only cry now because we’ll miss her…for now.
Yet, when all is said and done, my beautiful wife’s beautiful and amazing life is one to be celebrated. Time and time again I get testimonials from people about how Lynn’s courage and example have transformed their lives. That their lives are better for having known her. Dozens of ’em! Hundreds! How many people who live on this earth twice as long can claim that?
I’ve always said that my wife exists on another plane. And I don’t mean that as in insult! I’ve also thought (and said) that she’s an angel trapped in human form. Though I weep, I know–REALLY KNOW–that nothing as beautiful as her can remain tethered to this mortal coil for too long. It is, plain and simple, not the way of things.
I know that she is needed elsewhere, to bestow her blessings and peace on someone else who needs her more than we do. And so, for me, all I can do is stand here in awe of her and feel like the luckiest guy in the world that I got to spend 19 wonderful years with her. And that I get to live on with her in the form of the two beautiful children that we made and raised together.
And, of course, I believe that she will continue to be here, as our very own guardian angel, looking over us as we continue to live on in this world.
So…cry if you need. It’s okay. We’re doing it, too. But please…PLEASE! Don’t despair. I ask you now to join my family and me in celebration. For soon my Lynn will hurt no more, and her work here will be done. Soon she’ll be with God in Paradise. And this old world? It will be be much better for her having been here.
All our love,
Bill, Lynn, Sydney, and Zachary