Diana, Age 79
My husband of 52 years and I have one of those relationships that younger people point out to each other and sigh “I hope that’s us one day.”
Fifty-two years of connection – hard fought, hard won. Never easy.
And we know that it’s drawing to close. His health is precarious. Is this our last summer? Our last year? Our last dinner?
He’s just spent two months in and out of the hospital and rehab for an unsolvable problem. We just spent 19 hours on hard chairs in the ER waiting room. Holding hands, exchanging glances. Not needing to talk. Just being together
I could hear people around us commenting. Basically ‘so old, yet so in love.’ So old and so scared would have more accurate.
I spend the weeks he was hospitalized driving across town in the midst a record-breaking heat wave, spending nights sitting at his side when he was scared and confused.
We all know how this story will end.
But it was a quite a trip.
717kqo
Thank you for your support. One of the problems with aging is that one becomes a stereotype. 70 Candles is one of the few places where aging women are still granted individuality.
Diana, thank you for sharing. My husband and I will be married 52 years this September and you are so right when you say hard fought and hard won. I’m 75; he’s 76. He’s just been diagnosed with bladder cancer and will start chemo very soon. I think as we’ve gotten older, we’ve become more appreciative of each other and more caring. Probably because we’re more aware that our time together is getting shorter. My husband has had several fairly serious health issues in our time together but this one is the scariest. Sometimes I feel like I’m a rowboat by myself even thought I have a wonderful support system of family and friends. Hang in there!
Diana yes,
This end of life is a treacherous place.
I have recently gone through several years of a similar journey. I know it isn’t easy. My husband of sixty years slowly declined and needed care.
I found myself focusing on what would be enjoyable for him each day.
When he could still get out, riding electric scooters around stores with long aisles, a treat when he could no longer drive… watching pickleball tournaments at local rec centers…sitting poolside in summer months, people-watching when he could no longer go in the water…movie theatre action flicks, dinners with our family. He lost the ability to speak, but could still sing, so sing we did!
Everyone advised that I take care of my self as well. That was possible when I got some extra hands on board. An excellent home care/hospice agency relived me of heavy lifting, and provided all needed supplies. When a patient qualifies, that is all covered by Medicare. Then I hired a caregiver for half a day each week, and planned time away for myself.
I assembled a EOL portfolio so no big decisions needed to be made at the end of his life.
My husband passed away peacefully, at home after several days of round-the- clock “comfort care “. We were with him to the end.
I miss him deeply, but feel him everywhere.
Jane
Diana, thank you for your touching and so relatable post. I wish you and your husband the best of what comes your way. You say it’s been quite a journey. It seems from what you’ve said that it still is. Jane and I started this blog when we both had just turned 70. Now we’re 83 (me) and 84 (Jane). Your words ring so true. Maybe the silver (pun not intended!) lining is the extra preciousness of each day. Is that too Pollyanna?