Well,I get these feelings of insecurity lately that people are tired of hearing about this. I can’t say I blame you. It’s not the most uplifting of stories. However,the reason I’ve laid bare the sordid details of our lives is that I’m damn proud of the fact that I’m still alive to write about them. I have been compiling over the years the book that when completed,will help me put my past to bed for good. I am a survivor. I know at times I sound desperately sad and pessimistic. That’s only because this blog is a way of venting. For the 19 hours I’m awake everyday,I’m in caregiver mode. I am Karen’s advocate,husband,best friend,an optimistic source of energy she can draw from when she needs it most. I push the heartbreak aside. She needs me now more than ever.
We found out that her fistula is still NOT usable. She will need a third operation to bring her vein closer to the top of her arm.We have decided to use the doctors at the transplant hospital for this. They are far superior to the surgeons that did the first two. She is still dutifully at dialysis three times a week. When I get her back to the hotel,I have to use her walker as a wheelchair to push her to the elevator,then into the room and right to the bed. She usually has limited voice ability after treatments. Memory problems. Low blood pressure. Extreme fatigue. There are times when it’s frightening,but I can’t let her know that. I’ll make her laugh and make her lunch. Then she sleeps. And sleeps. I watch over her from the next bed,planning out her dinner, getting her meds ready,making any appointments,cleaning the room,creating the happiest environment I possibly can for when she wakes up. At night,she has dinner,we watch some TV, snuggle with the cats,talk about the future,then I bathe her. Once this cycle is finished,she falls asleep. After about 2 hours,her legs start flopping around the bed,the result of the restless leg syndrome side effect of dialysis.She also is wearing diapers. She shudders when she has to go,the pain gone from the UTI has been replaced with chills. It’s difficult to watch. Hell,the entire thing is difficult to watch,but I can’t show her that. By the time I’m to tired to keep my eyes open anymore to make sure she’s ok,it’s about 345 AM. Then 5 hours later, I’m back at it. It’s what I do. It might get worse. It doesn’t matter what the end of Part 2 said. The bottom line is Karen is the single most gentle person I’ve ever met in this world,and that’s one of the many reasons I married her on March 19,2013. The story I told in the first two parts is horribly and disgustingly true. She was not only abandoned by those closest to her,she didn’t even have the strength to tell them that they hurt her epically. She falsely believed the one sibling she has at least a casual relationship with would care enough to help her,to be there for her through this tremendously difficult illness. No. Instead,she was told that she could no longer live in the house where she cared for her Mom when nobody else would for 20 years. The only home she knew for 47 years. Sold at a bargain basement price because two of the three heirs didn’t really need the money. A house the county assessed at $300K sold for $140K in a cash short sale. Only 60 days to try and find just a shred of a lifetime of memories to shove into a 5×7 storage shed. The proceeds split three ways. Lawyers fees. Final utility bills. Back property taxes. The balance left for Karen given in dribs and drabs has now been over 90 percent exhausted in overpriced hotel rent while she fights for her life. However,she has me. I have been through things as bad or worse than she has. That might manifest itself in sadness at times here,but in real life I’m a warrior. I will fight to my last breath even if it ends up that I have the lymphoma the doctor keeps telling me to confirm. I fight because Karen deserves better. She never hurt anyone. I swallowed so much of my pride and dignity to ask to raise resources to keep my battle for our lives going. I am so grateful for everyone who prayed,showed support,messaged me,cried with me,laughed with me,and provided what I’ve needed to stay alive myself. I need a tiny bit more help,than I’ll try to take it from there. So if you’ve read this far,thank you. You are truly family. Please stay that way. To help me,look at the other blog posts at the end of them.
See you tonight.
Brian
Our Fight For Survival 
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