CHRISTMAS MUSIC IN NOVEMBER ~ BLUE CHRISTMAS

SOME SEMBLANCE OF HOLIDAY CHEER

This time, last year, was filled with so much emotion.

The local hospital here was bustling with activity as Bob was prepared by his medical team for his journey across the Columbia River to OHSU, in Oregon. Bob had refused the recommended blood transfusions – and I stood by that decision: it was his decision to make, and he was making decisions concerning himself, as long as he was able.  I respected his wishes; and his assigned medical team respected his wishes also, even when they strongly disagreed.

Around 11:26 AM, we got the word that Bob would be ferried via ambulance to OHSU within the hour. We were both apprehensive – there were no guarantees, and Bob was in a critically fragile condition. When the ambulance crew showed up in Bob’s room, and started setting the gurney up, and getting Bob ready to be transferred from the hospital bed to the ambulance gurney, they asked Bob how he wanted them to precede: they had been apprised that Bob had an active DNR Order in effect and they needed to be clear on how he wished the trip to OHSU to go forward. They asked him if he suffered a heart attack enroute, would he want CPR and other life-saving actions to go into force … Bob said, “No.” I heard his decision, and supported it. It scared me, but I wasn’t bound by fear – I knew Bob was bound for Heaven whenever that would be; but I didn’t know if I would be meeting my husband or a notification he had passed enroute, once I reached OHSU, myself: Bob’s son, Alex, would be driving me to OHSU and spend a few minutes with his father before heading back home to Salem, OR.; I can drive … but I thought it wiser if I didn’t, given the emotional upheaval I was dealing with.

When we arrived at OHSU, Bob had made it safely, and had been installed in his room there:

I was thankful I had not been greeted by unwelcome news.

Before the night was out, Bob was in an ICU ER downstairs with escalated heart palpitations; and out of sorts temper-wise – Bob had not been comfortable with change since he died the second time in 1981. He was in another State; and though he was as familiar with Portland as he was with Longview, he was in another hospital that he was not familiar with, in a situation he could not control. He felt powerless. He was not a happy camper and was snapping at everyone; including me.

I did what I thought best to snap him to of his funk, and said, “Bob, if you do not want to be here, we can go back home – right now. It is your choice. You do not have to be here if you don’t want to be.” That calmed him down. He basically just needed to know that he was still in control of his life and what happened with it.

For that afternoon, this time last year, things were going according to plan, despite the holiday pall that hung over our heads.

And this year, right now, I am taking control of my life and what happens with it …

And I’m desperately trying to revive some semblance of holiday cheer to buoy my sorrowing spirit – the first Christmas tree of the season has made its appearance at the end of my street here …

  

I saw this lit up tree walking through my livingroom ... so I put on my shoes and went outside to see it up close and personal ;-)

 

I walked around the Park this evening; there aren’t many homes lit up right now, but it was fun to spot the ones that were. 

… and I will be putting my own Christmas décor in place next week. I don’t feel comfortable around people yet during this holiday season (it doesn't take much right now for me to dissolve into tears), but I DO LIKE Christmas décor all around me for my birthday ;-)

FREEFALLIN’

After the 11 months I’ve had – actually, 11 months/10 days/16 hours & 40 minutes – I just really don’t have time for nonsense and I’m not making room for anybody’s ridiculous bullshit in my life.

Earlier, a woman in one of the FB Widow Groups I had joined, was complaining because there is a shortage of available men. She posted, “How are we supposed to get married when the ratio of men to women is so small?”

Well, I am not looking for a man to replace my man, but I replied anyway (tongue-in-cheek), “And getting shorter since some men no longer want to BE men.” A joke; rational people could understand the joke – even if there is an ironic twist of factual truth in what I posted tongue in cheek.

But … the dumbass moderator removed my reply and informed me I could no longer post on group because of my {hate speech} reply.

Needless, to say, I UNsubbed from that {tolerant} hateful group; I have no love for Word Police – last time I checked, this is America, where freedoms exist: freedom of speech is one of those freedoms. But, before I unsubbed, I let the moderator know I did not appreciate the hysterical and uncalled for deletion of my reply, “I don’t see how anything I posted can be considered ‘hate speech’; but I can see how removing what I posted can be seen as a hateful action. No need to Unsub me … I am leaving your group and blocking YOU. Karma – boom.”

Freefallin’.

Freedom.of.speech.

I didn’t say a.n.y.t.h.i.n.g.w.r.o.n.g.

While I was unsubbing, I just unsubbed ALL the Widow groups I had joined; 99% of time I checked the Pages, or their members blew up my newsfeed with their posts, I was shaking my head and wondering, “WTF?” Most of the groups were full of younger widows anyway who were whining about feeling gypped because they signed on to FB’s Dating and were upset because they were pulling ‘deadbeat losers’ who just wanted a booty call and treat them like ho’s. (((HELLO!))) – it’s an online dating site: WHO do they think they will meet?

America has become a country of bona fide dumb asses.

I just really don’t have time for nonsense and I’m not making room for anybody’s ridiculous bullshit in my life.

I have my own shit to work through … I don’t want to wade through anyone else’s.

Last year – today, Bob & I were freefallin’. And, while dealing with his own deep & heavy stuff, Bob was always thinking of me (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2018/11/psalm-43-send-out-your-light-and-your.html).

Bob’s body wasn’t cooperating with anything his medical team was doing to try to rein things in; he couldn’t keep nourishment down – even the liquified concoction they were feeding him through the feeding tube: the feeding tube was removed. I cried; my husband was literally starving to death. Because his body was under such immense stress, his heart was acting up, and giving everyone palpitations. The situation was looking pretty dismal. Chaplains were visiting him almost daily … and Bob always asked prayer for me too. He knew he was leaving me, and he was concerned for me. He knew he was my whole life; Bob was all I had in this world by way of family: there was no one else. Just him. I had loved him since I was 10 years old.

And now, he was leaving me.

20 days …

That was all we would have together – 464 hours.

But we didn’t know that then.

This time last year, today, just like now … I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed trying to sleep and finally just gave up and called the Nurse’s Station in the ICU Ward and said, “Hi. This is Valeria Hargand – my husband is Robert Hargand in room #401; how’s he doing this morning?” I was told he’d been having “episodes with his heart” since 1 AM. So, I said, “I’m really missing him – I know it’s too early for visiting hours, but I was wondering if I could come see him anyway? Just for a little bit?” The nurse said, “Sure.” I didn’t know that Bob was in critical crisis mode and that being the case, wives are allowed 24 hour-round-the-clock access and regular visitation hours are waived. I stayed all day with Bob, finally leaving at 6 PM to come home and pack a duffel bag, planning to go back to the hospital and stay in his room with him.

I remember pulling into the carport, and immediately the cell phone started ringing. And Bob said, “you left too soon; Dr. Chen just left – she said OHSU called and I have a room there Sunday. They’re gonna put a stint in my pancreas.” The thing was that we’d been told this same thing for months – and it was always pulled back. And, Bob wasn’t so sure anymore that he wanted to go to OHSU. He was tired of struggling: he was not a well man; seriously not well. And there wasn’t a single physician that could tell us that the trip would actually be worth it – there was no guarantee that anything would change. We didn’t know what – or even, how – to feel.

But everyone else wanted him to go: the doctors, the kids, his mother and siblings. Bob wasn’t so sure anymore. And I would honor Bob’s wishes. Bob was extremely fragile health-wise at that point. And the financial worry was eating at him. We didn’t have the $$$$$$$. Bob only had minimal insurance coverage through Social Security, we did have 100% coverage through the Hospital Financial Aide – but would fall through the cracks if the physicians and labs were not specifically Peace Health … which most were not: the Peace Health physicians always contracted with outside labs & follow-up doctors: always. And the State Medicaid vulture came around trying to get Bob to sign coverage papers WHILE HE WAS MEDICATED. I put a quick stop to that and forbade them to come to his room again unless I was present – the papers they were trying to bully  him into signing stated clearly that if he agreed to their coverage, and he dies, the State can move in and grab everything we own to repay that “free” Program Coverage. When I read that, I was seriously pissed. Bob told me to close out his IRA Account and pay off the car & Visa … which I did.

During that horrible time of suffering, anger, confusion, questions, frustration, loneliness, and conflicting diagnosis’, people have said many things to us – meaning well – but always ending up failing us.

Yeshua has never failed us; not once; though it may seem that way to anyone who watched us go through that time, and anyone listening to my human reactions (then or now).

All we knew was that Yeshua is on call 24/7/365; and He never fails us. He listens without comment. He comforts without unrelated comparison to his own life struggles. When he says, ‘I am with you in this, you are not alone’, He means it – He doesn’t just say that as a social courtesy: we can rest assured knowing that we are His primary concern all day for as long as necessary – He IS “there” whenever, wherever, for however long is necessary. We can cry out to him in our darkest hour, and He is immediately at our side. And when we ask, “What am I going to do now?” He calmly embraces us and whispers, “It’s okay. I have it all under control. Just relax and let Me handle things. It’s good to know that when I have reached the end of my rope and the knot I sit on is slipping … HE never lets me fall because He never fails me. When my world tilts and I do find myself in a whirling freefall, He is 'on the job' and always sends my guardian angel to catch me before I hit the ground, then He whispers, “It’s okay, Val. I have it all under control. Just relax and let Me handle things. All you have to do is trust Me.”

And I do. I have ALWAYS trusted Yeshua with every nano second of my life, every day. And Bob trusted Yeshua too. We – together – trusted Elohim’s Will concering Bob’s life. And I trust Yeshua with my life now.

We hated that insidious illness that was holding us hostage.

I remember this day, last year, which was a Saturday. Bob had had a rough night and was pretty well medicated before I left the hospital to come home, and start packing a week’s worth of clothing – jeans, shirts, sweaters, underwear, socks; a novel (which never did get read); juices; snacks (so I didn’t have to leave the room); the ipad (to bring up comforting music videos to play for Bob); & our laptops (Bob could use his sometimes & I used mine to keep everyone on our FB Page appraised of Bob’s situation). And I remember our daughter called and asked how I was doing, and I broke down. I didn’t know what I would do if Bob died – and there was a very real possibility he could die enroute to OHSU. He could die at OHSU before or during the surgical procedure. I was scared of how quickly things were progressing and how quickly our life, as we knew it, was changing. Would my husband ever be coming home again? HOW would he be coming home – as husband, or as a corpse? I had to be realistic: there was a lot to think about.

I was freefalling.

20 days …

That was all we would have together – 464 hours.

But we didn’t know that then.

And I don’t want to be dealing with FB’s ridiculous bullshit on the FB Widow Groups right now. I think I will avoid FB for the next 20 days.

My heart still hurts.

I still miss my husband.

 

 

 

 

I am freefalling.

the next 20 days are going to be very difficult to get through - the 1-year-anniversary- flashback's are brutal.

I am barely getting any sleep; I am exhausted.

I can’t be dealing with hysterical word police drama queens right now …