Time

This coming Thanksgiving day, Miki will turn 56 years old young?  Either way, it’s a fair amount of time.  When I was a kid, it sounded old.  Now that I am in that ballpark…not so much.  I have always liked the birthday card that said, “60 isn’t old, if you were a tree!”  But it’s all relative.  How much time do you need to be alone?  How long would you feel bad if you stepped on an ant?  No matter the amount of time you have to love someone, it probably would never seem to be enough.  Time goes on.

The time that has passed since this journey began grew exponentially longer as each month has passed.  And these last few weeks as we set our sights on MD Anderson have seemed extremely slow.  Not so bad for most folks, but for someone in pain, it must be an eternity.  Miki’s painful days are numbered.

The fluid that was drained from around Miki’s heart on Thursday was already being replenished on Friday, compliments of her cancer.  The cancer was doing what the cancer wanted and this was one more thing.  One more “pain.”  Because of this, yesterday we met a surgeon that was going to help Miki’s “broken heart” drain.  But first he wanted to get to know his patient and he sat down to listen to her story.  That’s right, a doctor sat down and listened.  For whatever reason, he put out front and center, the gravity of her condition, and we were schooled about how serious and advanced to a doctor, Miki’s lung cancer had become.

We’ve picked up on bits and pieces from a variety of doctors, what was taking place inside her abdomen, but none flat out said this will most likely take your life, and it could be soon.  No one knows for sure, but…  Lung cancer evidently is one cancer that has not progressed as much in its treatments as other cancers.  Not that good things can’t happen for lung cancer patients, but for most, it’s evidently not likely.  Looking back as it has progressed, Miki had been getting tired of being sick and tired and in pain for some time.

Last evening (Friday), Miki and I had the discussion that we both had hoped to never have, if that time came when it appeared as though the cancer was winning.  When to say when.  For Miki, the joy of life, as she lived it, has been slipping away, even though she has focused on the positive.  Those of you that know Miki, know that life without joy is not much of one.  And she is saying when.

We are in the process of getting her back home and to her tree house where she wants to be and getting involved with Kansas City Hospice.  Like the surgeon told us, “I can’t tell you if you will be here in 5 days, 5 weeks, or 5 months…no one can.”  But the goal is to bring as much joy back into Miki’s life as it will hold.

I wish I could have called each one of you that knows Miki and has followed this journey, to tell you personally of this shift, because you are the ones that have kept her going with your well wishes in the many forms that have reached her.  She has been and continues to be overwhelmed by your love, support, and mojo you send everyday.  So keep it up!  She will need it in the days ahead.  I will continue to convey this journey from here in hopes it will satisfy your need to know.  In turn, give us time, space, and continued support.

Do I like what is happening…no.  Do I respect what is happening…yes.  Will I think of my best friend, companion, and love of my life everyday for the rest of mine…without question.

My Zen from Home:  Miki.