A view from the passenger seat

As the navigator of the journey, the caregiver for your loved one, or whatever you want to call it, things are often unpredictable and totally out of your control.  And yet, you are the one called upon to help bring order to the chaos, and some semblance of control to the seemingly uncontrollable.

We spend the great majority of our time trying to expect the unexpected.  Our lives are filled with thoughts that begin with “what if, what about, why, what can I do?” and a multitude of things along those lines.

We don’t go through the physical pain, nor do we have the emotional mindset, of the one we love.  We have our own separate burdens to bear, and from my vantage point, the pain of these can at times be almost unbearable.  Yet, we have no choice but to suck things up and do what we have to do.  We do what we have to do for the person we love.  Unconditionally and without question or hesitation.  The way it should be.  It's not about us.  

From this side, at times you feel pretty darn helpless.  Well, that’s not exactly true.  You feel that way the great majority of the time.  There isn’t anything that you can do to take the pain away.   There is nothing that you can say to make someone forget that all of this is really happening.  All that can be done is to be there.  To offer up your shoulder when they need to cry.  Slip beside them in bed and cuddle when they need to be comforted.  Take notes so that you can repeat what they missed during the shock of the conversation with the multitudes of medicos.  Stay as outwardly strong as possible. Love them with all of your heart and soul.  There just isn’t much that we can do to play an active role in all of this crap.  Our lot is to provide passive support.

You can’t fix this, and that sucks!

  

I did have an idea recently to have support bracelets custom made for Tamara.  Not much, but something to let her know that there were lots of others out there that were with her in her fight.  When I first came up with the slogan “Fighting with Tamara” it sounded good and came off as being there at her side with fists clenched for battle.  After I ordered them, I saw another context to it.  “Fighting with Tamara”.  For those of you who know her, it still works out with the double entendre (Sorry Ron, I used a big word).  She can be quite obstinate at times, and fight the little things like resting more, doing less, and taking a nap.  Didn’t matter, I had already clicked on “submit order”, but it sounded right both ways.

I’ve got quite a few of these on hand.  Let me know if you want some.  You can contribute if you feel led to, but I didn't do this to raise funds.  The most important thing is to show your support for her.  I even have a little idea of something to do with these when we get to the point of being able to proudly proclaim that we had kicked this leukemia’s butt.  Those details can not be published here ‘cause Tamara reads my blog thingy.  Email, text, or actually call me and I'll let you in on the plan.

We have been told that I might get to actually do something soon.  Really do something.  I have to confess that there is this weird sort of cool feeling (not quite sure how to accurately describe it) in knowing that I get to give her the Campath injections over the next two to three months.

You wouldn’t think that being able to give your wife injections that will basically destroy her immune system is such a good thing, would you?  What if it was the only active role that you could play in potentially saving her life?

I may have that opportunity, and I am glad to do it.  Sounds strange, but you’ve got to be in my place to truly understand it.