Goodbye 2018 and Good Riddance!

One of our favorite movies this past year was Wonder Woman. It came out in 2017, but we didn’t see it until last year. She became my (s)hero! I bought the Hallmark Keepsake Ornament of her and stood her on the table by my couch/bed to valiantly fight off the evil that might come my way this year! She will stand her ground - of that I’m sure.

I love to write. I’ve missed it. I was telling someone that just the other day. Writing is my favorite way to express my thoughts, feelings, and enthusiasm about various things. I love to bring people, ideas, histories, etc. to life with words. It’s why I have two blogs – a Writing Blog and a Family History Blog.

But I’ve not been able to write much lately. I’ve not been able to get “that feeling” together inside of me – that passion that brings enthusiasm to a subject; the one that can paint a word picture for others to see and understand.

That feeling left me about four years ago when we learned that my husband had a rare neurocognitive disease called corticobasal degeneration (CBD). The odds given to us on his life expectancy at that time was about five to eight years. News like that just sucks the life out of you. Everything else becomes meaningless. I’ve honestly not felt much of a passion for writing about any subject since receiving that news.

But now I have a craving, no really a need, to write about something. That something? The Dreaded Year 2018, probably the worst year of my life. I have to get my thoughts about it written down while they are still fresh in my memory – and before the new year begins.

As I sit here writing, I find myself hoping beyond hope that most of you reading this have actually had a fairly good year. No year is perfect. There are always ups and downs for each of us. But I wouldn’t wish the pain and suffering that has overwhelmed our house this year on anyone.

The Dreaded Year started out with the ever-frightening visions of days looming ahead; days dealing with yet another year of my husband’s disease. How would we deal with it if it got worse? How bad could it get? All the questions that had been plaguing us for the previous four years were evident when I couldn’t even wake him up to celebrate the ringing in of the New Year. That had never happened before. In years past, we either stayed up together, or he had to wake ME up! But last year was different. I should have heeded that warning and been prepared for the days ahead.

The Dreaded Year saw me plunged almost immediately into Physical Therapy for problems with my back and shoulder, only to be literally kicked out of PT because my blood pressure was ‘dangerously high.’ They wanted to send me to the ER. I didn’t have time for that. I remember going home, taking my emergency BP pill (one of the six I was already on) and calling the doctor to schedule an appointment with a specialist. Got that done; got new meds; got my BP under control. That only took about three months to complete – you know, just most of the first part of the year. Not too bad, I guess, all things considered.

I suppose the stress of the situation at home was getting to me. Seriously getting to me. In the course of a few months, I saw my husband go from being able to walk (not well, but at least a little bit) to hardly being able to walk at all. He became dependent upon being rolled around the house in a wheelchair and could rarely go outside anymore. He went from eating with utensils, and then with his fingers, and finally to being unable to feed himself at all. In those rare moments when I had a respite caregiver come in, he began getting extremely agitated if I was gone for more than an hour or so. Can you go to the grocery store and shop for everything in an hour? I learned to be very quick. I kept saying that I was going to use one of those services where the store did the shopping for me, and I could just go and pick it all up that same day. I never managed to do that. My mind seemed to have been put on remote control, and I was just doing things in the moment, whenever they were needed.

What I did know was that I had become my husband’s main link to the world, and I knew how important it was for me to be there with him as much as possible. More stress? Oh, yes indeed.

In June, all of my sons and daughters-in-law gathered together for a week of fun and family time. But the “horribly bad, really terrible” Dreaded Year that was literally half-way over had basically just begun for us. Only a few days after my two sons who lived out of town had gotten home, we received news that the Mother of one of my precious daughters-in-law had passed away suddenly and tragically. What a devastating time; a quick, hectic and heartbreaking trip back for them…and many, many tears. Grief Counseling had begun in this family.

By August and early September, it was evident that my husband’s condition was changing rapidly. The dementia part of his disease (which hadn’t really been too bad at this point) set in almost overnight, and so did the loss of his ability to move at all. It was necessary to hospitalize him (we thought for only a little while), but we soon found out that he also had Stage 4 small-cell lung cancer. They gave him two to four months to live on that diagnosis. We thought he still had a year or two left with his original diagnosis of CBD, so this was a complete shock. He spent a month in the hospital, was transferred to a nursing home, and died after being there a day and a half - one day before his 63^rd birthday. He didn’t even get to live out those two to four months. It was a nightmare.

Family gathered around from all over the country, plans were made for the Memorial Celebration, and somehow, with the love and help of family and friends, we got through the most horrible week of my life. I’m truly not even sure how. But we did. Grief Counseling called again.

But the year wasn’t through with us yet. Another daughter-in-law saw her Father’s cancer worsen quickly and unexpectedly, and he passed away in November, just weeks after the death of my husband. Grief Counseling? It just goes on and on for us.

I had honestly begun to feel as if this Dreaded Year had tried to personally beat me over the head, but in December I was actually thinking that I just might find that “new normal” that the Grief Counseling experts go on about. I thought I was doing fairly well, considering everything that the Dreaded Year had brought. I soon found out that it wasn’t through with me yet.

Last Thursday I began the day running some errands and attending the memorial service for an “Unclaimed Veteran” here in town. It made me feel good to be there, knowing that it would not only be an honor to that Vet, but also an honor to my husband, who was himself a Veteran. Somewhere around noon I began to feel a slight cough begin, which managed to settle deep into my chest by that very afternoon, saw me at the doctor’s office the next day getting a shot and meds, and then saw me get even worse by Sunday. The doctor told me that the third day would be the worst. It was. The Dreaded Year gave me an upper respiratory infection that tried to pick me up, shake me by the collar, and throw me down. It has tried its best to do me in. I have fought it every step of the way, just as I have fought every step and every day of this entire Dreaded Year.

After all I’ve been through, this illness has been almost like a pesky little fly that I have to simply shoo away.  I’m a bit better this morning. Not great, but better.  It’s New Year’s Eve, and I can’t wait for this day and this year to end.

I’m looking forward to 2019. There’s always an excitement to a New Year. What will it bring? What opportunities and challenges will there be?

Here’s what I say to 2019: Bring it on – I am ready for you!

Happy New Year, Everyone! May it bring you happiness and fulfillment – and maybe even a little bit of excitement!

@2018 Copyright by Carla Love Maitland