Your Dying Spouse 69 - Free Kisses!

We're linked with Massy Marriage's Wedded Wednesday - please visit them for some great marriage resources.

It's very easy to isolate a dying spouse through the best of intentions

Terminal illness hurts. Your skin hurts, your muscles hurt, movement hurts.

And you don't want to cause more pain, so you withdraw, just a little.

And then a little more. Soon hugs are A-frames, and kisses are quick and fleeting. Like having to kiss a not-so-favourite uncle at a reunion, when you were a kid.

You don't want this...but as a caregiver, you shrink from causing more pain, and in that action cause more than you can possibly know.

Dying is a lonely business. Yes, I know, we should feel the presence of Jesus, and if we don't we're not trying hard enough...I've gotten that message, and it's rubbish. It addresses only half of the question.

Faith is one thing...and as that one thing, it's a great comfort.

But I'm not a purely spiritual creature yet, and it would be nice to have an arm around me.

Having to ask, every time...."Please put your arm around me!"...it sounds kind of bad. Asking for charity.

I don't need charity. I need love.

Even if it hurts.

(Many thanks to Survivor the Rottweiler for agreeing to help provide the graphic. Though the picture doesn't show it, he weighs in a something over 150 lbs. He is the most lovably good-natured goof I have ever met.)

Your Dying Spouse 68 - Conversations

We're with Inspire Me Monday, today. Please visit them! We are also linked with Wedded Wednesday.

Well, what should we talk about now?

As a terminal illness takes its toll, and the situation becomes obvious to the most obdurate Cleopatra (queen of de Nile...get it?) options for conversation become limited.

You're likely in the workforce...and your spouse has been, or will soon be, invalided out. Your life may be a swirl of personalities and responsibilities, while your husband or wife may be concerned largely with the effects of medication, and trying to get through the day.

Their main companion, barring attentive friends or neighbors, may be the television.

Common conversational ground may be pretty hard to find.

The best thing you can do, as a caregiving spouse, is to listen. Take your cues from what's being said.

There are many people who, when ill, find a dread fascination in their illness, in what's happeningto their bodies. This isn't narcissism; it's more likely fear, especially if this individual had not been inclined to worry over every sniffle in the past.

And there are those who would prefer to say nothing, either out of denial ("if I don't talk about it it might go away") or a deep-seated dislike of 'organ recitals'.

The best thing you can do for the tell-all individual is to simply listen, and ask leading questions, even if you feel like you want to scream, bang you head against a wall, and jump out the nearest window.

I mean, it's BORING!

And if you're married to someone like...well, like me, and you have to pull teeth to find out how he or she is feeling, resist the temptation unless it's absolutely necessary.

As it was this morning; my wife came into the kitchen to find a pool of blood that I had not had the energy to clean up,and when she asked what happened, she was rightly not satisfied with , "Oh, nothing."

Moving to other topics (about time1), you may find that your mate's taken a stronger-than-expected interest in religion. Trinity Broadcasting is available on cable everywhere, and by antenna in many places, and you can get 24-hours-a-day religion. This can be good or bad.

You may find that it suddenly becomes a defining interest, and you'll long for the change to change the channel to Monday Night Football, The Voice...anything!

But even if you feel this way, please, again, have patience and listen, because the questions of eternity loom large in the heart of a person who's going to meet it soon.

You don't have to have answers. But do listen to the questions.

And, finally, feel free to talk about what your day was like, what's important to you.

It makes us feel like we're still a part of the world, that you take the time to include us.

Your Dying Spouse 67 - Whom Can You Trust? {FMF}

We're connecting with Five Minute Friday, hosted by Kate Motaung; it's a five minute key-word-driven writing exercise, and a lot of fun!

We are also linked with Wedded Wednesday.

This week's word is  TRUST.

Execute.

Sooner or later, it has to happen. Caregiving for a terminally ill spouse takes everything out of you, and more...and it's easy to let slip the controls, and vent about how hard this all is.

To your mate.

It's not the message you want to send, or even something you believe...but the message received is "a part of me wishes this were over".

It's not abnormal that you may indeed feel that way, atleast on some level. We're not Jesus, and part of being human is wanting to see an end to an ordeal.

But to express that to someone who depends on your help to cope with each day, and to live, is unforgivable.

I'm saying unforgivable deliberately, because you'll have broken something that can't be fixed under the aegis of terminal illness.

You'll have broken trust.

When you're dying, the vows you took become a lot more meaningful...in sickness and in health" suddenly becomes real, and you realize how dependent you are, or will become.

And you have to trust your husband-or-wife-turned-caregiver to honour that. When you're dying, you have to do your part through cooperation, but control passes over to someone else at some point.

And if you can't trust them, if you think there's a stopwatch ticking off the life from which you suddenly feel your departure is desired...that's the worst thing.

Break that trust, and you may break the reason for living.

It's a huge responsibility, and it's grossly unfair that you can't express yourself to your mate.

Duty requires that you don't.

And that is why regular counseling is needed. You need a safe place to vent, to scream and throw things and crush pieces of paper into little balls.

A place and person to which you, as a caregiver, can trust to bare your soul.

Endex.

This was another very hard post to write, but I hope that it speaks to one of the issues of which most people never speak...that sometimes you do want a dying person to die more quickly...not "to end their suffering", but to end YOURS.

It shouldn't be a source of guilt; and it should be faced.

And here is what I was listening to while I wrote this...

Reaching For God - #BlogBattle

Time for this week's #BlogBattle entry, the weekly keyword-inspired flash fiction contest hosted by Rachael Ritchey.

We're also linked with Still Saturday, and Wedded Wednesday.

The word this week is REACH.

Reaching For God

"Uh, oh," said Biff to The Dude. "What have you done now?"

Sonny was standing radio watch, and the rest of us were trying to stay cool under a tarp stretched from the fenders to a couple of poles stuck in the ground. The air was heavy with the dust dislodged by the army firebase's 155s, banging away in the monotonous monotonous rhythm. of H&I. Providing harassment and interdiction on map coordinates had to be the most boring job on the planet. They wanted a couple of tanks around as a security blanket, and as the only ones were Marine, they settled for that. Us.

"Whad'you mean?" The Dude had been dozing, and sat up."Oh."

A tall, lean officer was walking purposefully toward the tank, followed by a private carrying a 16. It looked like a hanging party, faces set in grim creases. 

Biff had sharp eyes. "Hey, that's a chaplain..." He'd seen the small cross stenciled on the front of the officer's helmet. "Dude, did you piss off God?"

"Not lately." We crabwalked out from under the tarp into the suffocating heat, and stood. 

The chaplain smiled, and his face immediately lit up, the face of a man you'd like to know as a friend. "Hi!"

The private, clearly his jeep-driver-bodyguard, lifted the corners of his mouth wearily, and nodded.

"Hi, uh..." If he was a priest, I should call him Father; if a protestant minister, Reverend. And if he was a rabbi, I'd let Biff do the talking.

He put out a large, slim hand. "Phil Bonhoeffer," he said. "Saw you boys over here, just wanted to say hello."

"Bonhoeffer?" The Dude was interested. The name rang a bell for me, vaguely, but Biff spoke right up.

"Are you related?"

The chaplain turned to our Jewish gunner. "Sure am, son. He was a second cousin."

The Dude said, "TC, Dietrich Bonhoeffer was a...what, Lutheran..?"

"Yep."

"Yeah, a Lutheran pastor in Germany, WW2. Really brave...wouldn't back down opposing the Nazis, and he got hung just before the war ended. I've got a copy of The Cost of Discipleship."

"So do I," said Biff. "Sir...uh, would you sign it for me?"

I felt like a heathen. All I had was a copy of The Power of Positive Thinking.

Reverend Bonhoeffer smiled; it looked like he'd had that request before. "Glad to."

The guys climbed up the glacis to get their books, like eager kids meeting Mickey Mantle. If Sonny had a copy as well, I was going to have to rethink my education.

While they were gone, I asked the Reverend, "How's it feel, being asked to autograph your cousin's book?"

He laughed. "First time, it was really weird. But they want a connection with the name, with the spirit. I don't know if I can give them that, but they think I can."

"That sounds like quite a challenge."

"That's what praying's for, son."

I was trying to think of something intelligent to say when The Dude and Biff came back, carrying, yes, three copies of The Cost Of Discipleship.

I really had to get to know my guys better.

This story was originally much longer (it describes an actual event), but after writing the long version, something told me to go back, pare it down, and end it here. It's something of an experiment in intuition, if that makes sense.

The long version was saved, and it'll appear later. If you could let me know what you think - if this minimalist approach 'worked' in presenting both message and character development - I'd be grateful.

Your Dying Spouse 66 - Beyond Death

We're linked up with Wedded Wednesday on the superb Messy Marriage site.

Despite what the title may suggest, this isn't a continuation of the last installment, Heaven Bound.

This is about some things that you the caregiving spouse, may face in the weeks and months after the battle ends.

Your Emotions - you're likely to be a wreck, even if you don't know it. Some individuals process their emotions in real time, so to speak; they face the pain and heartbreak as it's experienced.

Others lock it away to deal with the practical aspects of the final stages of a terminal illness, and seem - and feel - strangely, calm, almost OK.

They're not.

Even if the relationship wasn't terribly close, the end of a shared life, and a world takes a toll. It's like suddenly moving to a new house; the light switches aren't where you expect them to be, and you bark your shins against the furniture, in the dark. Or, if you prefer, it's like having the brake and accelerator on your car switched.

You don't know if you're coming or going, and you have to accept that this will happen. And, for the majority of widows and widowers, it will pass, but in the initial stages you'll not believe it.

Don't try.

Instead, make sure you have friends, now, who will be there for you. Let the people close to you know that you're going to need help.

And sometimes you'll need an accountability partner, on the days that you won't want to get out of bed, or shower, or shave, or eat.

Your Friends - Thta point about having friends and accountability partners takes some thought, because many of the 'couples friends' you may now have are likely to drift away. Partnerless, you don't really fit into the milieu...and partnerless, you may be regarded as a threat to the other marriages in your social circle.

It's terribly unfair, but it's true.

Many churches now have caregiver support groups, and bereavement support groups, and this is a place to develop relationships you may find sustaining, but use some care, particularly if you're a woman.

You're vulnerable, and there are predators out there. There are men (and a few women) who will happily use the opportunity to take advantage of loneliness and pain for the thrill of 'conquest', or for the opportunity for some sort of financial gain.

During the year that Barbara and I were divorced, I attended a church-sponsored divorce support group.

In spite of the best efforts of the pastor, it was a de facto singles' club, and there were horror stories. I didn't stay there long. It was worse than useless.

Finances - First, if you're not the one paying the bills, at least shadow your terminally ill spouse. Know where the checkbook and the bills are, and know the passwords for online bill paying.

Know the due dates that go along with each obligation.

Don't take the job away, unless you have to (or your mate asks you to take over). It's often one of the last things one can do to feel like a contributing member of the family (that's where I am, in case you were wondering).

But know the financial structure. Many organizations will cut you some slack if you let them know that your mate's in the last stages of illness (or has just died), but don't count on this.

Second, be aware of any insurance policies that may be in effect, and be familiar with them. If there are going to be 'uncovered' medical bills, don't let it hit you as a surprise when you're fragile.

Know about life policies, and when death occurs, try to have a friend (or a hired financial advisor) help you set the payment process in motion.

Finally, if there is a significant insurance payout, please resist the temptation to do anything major...like taking an expensive vacation (that some well-meaning people may advise to make you feel better) or moving (unless that's absolutely necessary because of a diminished income).

You won't enjoy the vacation, if you take it. It's be a place of shadows, and tears, and you'll want to share experiences and stories with someone who's not there to hear them.

Wait a bit for that, please.

And moving...it may be tempting to try to get away from a home that's suddenly haunted, but you can't. You'll carry those unquiet ghosts with you.

And you'll imagine the place that you abandoned, somehow wondering why you're gone.

A house can't think, or feel, but atthree in the morning, when you're alone, you can think funny things.

If you're going to move, let the process come naturally.

It sounds like tough-guy talk...face the loss...but it's really the only way.

There's some real wisdom in Steven Spielberg's recent SciFi film Super 8.

"Bad things happen. But you can still live."

Your Dying Spouse 65 - Heaven Bound

We're linking up with Inspire Me Monday; please give them a visit!We're also linked with Messy Marriage's Wedded Wednesday.

I'm also guest-posting on Norma Brumbaugh's blog today.

I have been told that if I thought more about Heaven., I would not fear death.

I don't fear death. I fear the pain that makes an elastic capacity for bearing it strain to its limits. Today I wanted to bang my head against a wall to try to make it go away - by knocking myself out. WHAT WILL TOMORROW BRING????

Earlier this evening (on the day that I write this) I heard the TV preacher Perry Stone talking about a book in which he described what Heaven is like. What we wear, what we eat, what language we speak, and so on.

Surprisingly, I found the subject uninteresting

From the perspective of one who's going to be shaking hands with Jesus sooner rather than later, I don't really care what we eat in Heaven, and even less what we wear.

I have to admit to an uncharitable thought, that it's something formulated by people who have the luxury of contemplating those questions without the Damoclean sword of immediacy.

Whatever experience they have in theology or Biblical exegesis, they're not helping...okay, not helping me. I'm sure many mean well, but (warning...second uncharitable thought) I also suspect that some of them are more concerned with trying to sell books, or DVDs, or tickets to their public appearances.

Sorry if I sound harsh. No, I'm not. These people are completely missing the point.

They are trivializing the process of dying by making it sound like taking a trip to God's Club Med.

The afterlife matters. It is everything.

The whole point of Heaven, when you're dying, is that it's really there, that the promises are true.

The descriptions in Revelation hold little but academic interest for me. It's written in a symbology that held deep meaning for John's contemporaries, but it's largely inaccessible to the modern mind, except in the most general terms.

I seriously doubt that Eternity spent with the Almighty will have the look and feel of the first century AD. If it's Heaven, it'll be adjusted to us, and won't demand that we adjust to it.

"Whoa, Jesus, the cell reception up Here sucks, Man!"

I kind of doubt that.

John's contemporaries could take it as written because they could feel the magic, and see it unfolding. We are privileged to feel the magic, but what we see will be in terms to which we can relate.

It's a bit like taking Jesus as the Lamb of God absolutely literally; no one has said He was a talking baby sheep.

And speaking of which, I'm not worried about the whole sheep vs. goats thing. We're all goats. The only thing that matters now is mercy.

It all boils down to what Jesus said to the dude on the next cross over...

"Today, you'll be with me in Paradise."

Everything else, I'll take as it comes.

Because I while I still want today here, and I sure want tomorrow There.

My thought for a caregiving spouse is simply this - know what your husband or wife thinks, and believes. Please don't try to overwrite their faith with your own. If you take a more literal view that I do (and I do respect that view, and would be as happy as ever if I were proven wrong) and your spouse does not, please...just listen.

And if your dying spouse is the literalist, accept that. Don't try to prove your own point. Doing so can undermine faith. hen you're in extremis, and holding onto hope amidst the pain, it doesn't take much to cause a landslide. And it's terribly hard to get back to where you were.

After all, when we get there, we'll be There.

Your Dying Spouse 64 - Family, Untied {MF}

Welcome to this week's Five Minute Friday post, the keyword-inspired timed writing challenge hosted by the gracious Kate Motaung.

We're also linked with Messy Marriage's Wedded Wednesday.

The word this week is FAMILY.

Execute.

For me, childhood was a time to forget, and the whole experience made 'family' into something like an obscenity for me, and I am using that word very deliberately.

Flash forward to terminal illness in middle age, and that's causing some unexpected problems for my wife.

barbara came from a small but close-knit family in the midwest. Her mother died in 2013, but her father (who visited us two weeks ago) is going strong. She also has two younger brothers. Family is important to her, and there is a lot of emotional interdependence.

I'm the opposite. I'm emotionally restrained (did I hear someone say 'stunted'?) and extremely self-contained. I had to be; I learned early that there was no one to help me, and that any sign of weakness was something my enemies - my family - would exploit.

So now, in crisis, my reactions and needs are nothing like barbara would expect. Her mother was ill for a couple of years before dying and while she wasn't 'needy', she did rely on her family's emotional support, and she leaned into them for comfort...and they could lean into her in the apprehension of their coming loss.

They could cling to one another, and cry.

I can't do that. I can't even imagine doing that.

And Barbara feels helpless, and sometimes useless. In her eyes, I'm holding it in, not trusting her with my fears and hurts. I'm keeping her out of the inner circle.

What she doesn't understand, and thankfully, I think, can't understand is that there is no inner circle.

There's nothing to hold in. I'm dying, I don't want to, sometimes the physical manifestations are frightening, but there's nothing about which to weep. It's just life, and death.

She asks me what she can do, and I tell her, in conscious imitation of the rebooted Spock, "Please continue to perform admirably at work."

That is what's important to me.

She needs the job (and she does it so well that the company needs her). She doesn't just need it for the money; she needs it for the self-definition it provides and provided, that she could re-enter the workforce when I got too sick to work, and be a success.

It's not that I'm soulless and practical, at least, I don't think so.

It's just that I learned to be OK in a hard school, and I'm OK now. She can tend to herself.

I'm good to go.

(But I'd rather stay.)

Endex.

Another tough one, and another very hard day. I wasn't sure I would be able to write tonight, but seeing the topic, I felt that I had to...this is important.

I don't know how many others there are like me, but I hope that maybe it will provide illumination that might ease, just a little, the heartache.