Monday, July 8, 2013


The Hubs and me just being us.

One day I woke up and found myself living someone else’s life.  I went to sleep with a healthy, vibrant husband who was cuddled up next to a healthy, voluptuous wife (moi), and the next morning the healthy guy was replaced with a sick one. The gal I was replaced with wasn’t nearly as voluptuous and constantly has this 3,000 pound sack of worry sitting on her chest. She isn’t much fun, and neither is the sick guy.
Who are these people? My once strong Hubs is stooped a bit and spends hours in his recliner. The drugs he’s been infused with have depleted his strength and I hear by next week his sweet, round, curly head will be as bald and slick as the tires we just replaced on our van.
As for this new chick, what’s with her? She wakes up tired. Ice cream has lost its appeal. Sunsets make her cry. And, if the truth be told she’s aged about ten years since February, when the sick guy showed up.
Somebody shake us and wake us up please!
Of course, what’s startling is that we are awake. In fact, sleep is no longer our friend. Gary, the Hubs, the love of my life, has cancer. And I wake every morning with this incredible sense of loss sitting over in the corner of our bedroom... waiting, daring me to open my eyes so it can get started with its taunting.
However, and with God there is always a however, the Hubs and I have more good days than bad. The cancer has intruded, but hasn’t taken over. It has caused us indescribable grief, but has not thrown the towel over our Light. True, I don’t recognize this life we’re now living with trips to Mayo, nausea, chemo, and soon a new hair-less do. But, parts of us, and I must say, the best parts of us are still intact—like the way it feels to lay my head on Gary’s chest when we first climb into bed. On our wedding night, some forty-two years ago, when I first laid my head on that spot, it was like coming home… it still is. When the Hubs takes my hand when we’re walking, there’s nothing that can frighten me enough to make me run away. His hand, his big, strong, warm hand has always been there holding, protecting, and pulling me along… it still does. Oh, I could go on, but that’s enough for now.
I’d love my old life back. I’d love a turtle sundae to taste like it used to, but it’s not going to happen. That was then. This is now. I don’t know who these two people are these days, but their hearts are still beating as one and for now, that’s blessing enough.  
Oh, LuLu sends her love,

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