Yesterday was my Husband’s Birthday. And a few days back, I asked him if he wanted pizza or take out for his Birthday. He didn’t know.
It’s rough bringing up celebrating milestones for a man who has a potential death sentence hanging above him. I mean, what do you do? What do you say? How do you act?
It’s as if half the time we live like we are on death row. We are isolated, never seeing anyone except on a screen, and our home is a prison of sorts. We can’t leave, we can’t do anything of value. Our warden is his heart. His heart dictates what we do, what we say, and we tap dance barefoot on pins and needles.
Yet there are sweet moments as well. He lets me snuggle sometimes, and we write to each other. Letting each other know what’s going on. Maybe thos messages will be the only ones I have left in a few weeks. We just don’t know.
Then there are the days when everything ‘seems’ normal. We do our best just to get through the day. He sits at his table, and watches a video, and I sit at my desk, knitting.
He asked me to make him some nana bread again. He knows how nauseating those things make me, but he is worth it. I might have to put a mask on with some peppermint oil sprinkled on it to get through it, but it’s worth it, just to help him find one small comfort during the day.
Hugs all, hope your day is a good one. May God be with you. -L