Sunshine peering through the fog

Parenting is always a struggle....at any stage. Parenting while you're thrust into caregiving and knowing the prognosis is a tug of war within yourself.

Kudos to anyone who's had to navigate multiple tasks while in shock and actually feeling accomplished.

Recalling the many tasks that required attention upon bringing John home and getting him settled included setting up palliative team visits, cancelling appointments he no longer would require (orthotics, optometry) and having a family meeting with our daughters all remind me of just how much shock my body and mind were in a year ago.

Continuation of January 1, 2025

Getting our youngest daughter home and then John all in one day.....to begin our final journey together.

The first time I heard John say to a doctor; "But what if I wanna go on my own terms?" and it wouldn't be the last, same with my first breakdown and first daughter to become engaged.

Continuing from Part 1

After 3 attempts to record my thoughts and feelings to no avail. Here is part 1 with quite a bit missing, but I'm just too exhausted at this point and my body is shutting down.

I have no control at this point with what my body and mind are doing. Gonna be a tough ride from here on out.

An image that haunts me quite regularly was taken a year ago today.....my husbands strength to keep going even when he had to of been suffering.

Thoughts that I actually had to write down so I wouldn't forget them. My brain is shutting down again as I head into the last week before John's diagnosis. Sometimes you just gotta go with the flow and accept the changes.

Not attempting to be negative, just being honest with how we - John and I perceived December 25th as shift workers to our girls. Wishing you all a Merry Christmas

Probably a top 10 contender for one of the worst days. December 24th, 2024 showed everyone what was going on behind our closed doors.

Recalling memories can be difficult as they create happy, sad and indifferent emotions.

Acknowledging that I am not always as open minded as I "think" I am, grateful to open my mind and heart to others when I least expect it to be to my benefit.

Discovering that change is sunshine peering through the fog has enlightened my spirit - it may have taken me a while to figure that out but I eventually got there.

I reflect on the last traumatic call my late husband attended as a primary care paramedic and send my love to the family of the patient.

It's difficult for some of us to admit we aren't "all that and a slice of bread" in reality.

When you hear or see something that radiates with your situation - it helps to alleviate some....some of the pain/guilt.

Appreciating those we love the most is hard as we always assume they'll still be here. Attempting to create or sustain traditions after loss is difficult...perhaps you can find sunshine through that fog.

Verbally documenting December 16, 2024 is difficult for myself - a week of not sharing our marital bed in hopes that John would see that he needed to attend an outpatient program and honestly, attempting to "un-love" my husband as I realized I could no longer accept and live with his "grossly manifesting PTSD."

A quick synopsis of December 15, 2024 - unable to function well today a year later

Coming to terms with the fact that your brain controls you is almost cathartic. I am blessed to have the time to allow my thoughts to come forward whether intrusive or pleasant and even more so then allow myself to sit with them and process them.

Putting a voice to the changes the tumour made and how my motto played a role.

Take some time to slow down and appreciate what was, is and could be.