Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Just When You Thought You Were Having Fun ....

.... life comes and smacks you right between the eyes.
And it hurts.

Camp Widow was great. And fun.
And hard. And sad.
And emotional. And physical.
And .... wonderful.

It is an amazing experience to be amongst almost 300 people who understand.
And as amazing as that feels,, it sucks for them.
I love so many of these men and women. It breaks my heart that they have a reason to be in the same room with me, let alone the same hotel .... and conference.

The group of us that have been to all three CWs are a tight-knit bunch. And yet it was wonderful to meet other friends for the first time IRL*.
And wonderful to make brand new friends.

But it was horrible to find out that many of these new friends have been widowed for less than a year.
Much less.
One amazing person was only one month "out".**
There was no way I would've been capable of attending anything, let alone flying across the country to join 300 widows/ers for a weekend.

I had the blessing of meeting a lot of the new "campers" when I co-led the "First Time Campers" workshop. We had a lot of fun, which I think many of them found surprising. We laughed.
We laughed a lot.
I think some of them had not laughed that much in a very long time.
They blessed me.

I slept very little over the weekend, so I felt exhausted a lot of the time, and I only worked a fraction of what the other board members worked.
But by the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, I needed a break.
Desperately.
Or I knew the dam would burst.

And so I left the hotel and walked along the pier for an hour or so. By myself.
I've always been part introvert, so I have always needed to find some time to just "be". And that seems to occur more since Jim died. Probably because I'm alone much more than I'm with other people. Especially 275 or so people.

But the walk did a world of good and when I came back I found a group of friends out by the poolside bar. And we sat and talked.
And talked.
And talked.
Until it was time to go in and get all gussied up for the banquet.
I brought a beautiful red dress that Daughter #1 wore when she was in high school. I wonder if she'll ever find out?!

When I tried it on at home several weeks ago it took a bit of effort to get the back zipper up.
(Another sucky thing about being alone .... there's no one to help with zippers. Or, even worse, bracelets. I kid you not, one morning, not so long ago,  I was going through the McDonald's drive through and I asked the startled woman at the window if she'd clasp my bracelet for me and then stuck my arm out of my window .... and into hers.
She was very gracious.
And I am not proud.

Anyway, it took a whole lot longer to get that dang zipper zipped Saturday night.
But I triumphed over it .... finally, and put on a pair of the fiercest heels I've ever owned (I'll post pics later, but if you're on Facebook you'll be able to see the dress and the shoes.)
They were a hit. :)

And then it was all over. And we were hugging and saying our goodbyes on Sunday morning.

And then I came home.
To life.
The Sons were all fine and the house was in good shape.
Son #1 and I talked while I started the dreaded act of unpacking.
Then Son #2 came home and sat with us.
He was shortly followed by Son #3.
I was happy to see each of them.
I had missed them. A lot.

Then it was time to go to bed.
Since it was after midnight.
And so I did.
But as exhausted as I was, sleep did not come.
I finally gave up at 4:30 and took a sleep med to help.

And it did.
I slept until noon.
Which would have been really great, had I not forgotten that I was supposed to play tennis at 9:00 a.m. Meaning that I left 7 people in the lurch. I felt beyond horrible when I figured it out. I sent all 7 an apology email, asking for forgiveness. Three have answered to assure me that it was ok and to not worry about it. Which hopefully doesn't mean that the other four are too mad to email back.

After I sent that email I went to my Facebook page.
And saw I had a private message.
And that's when life slapped me.
Hard.
I found out that a dear friend, whom I love very much, is here in Houston.
At MD Anderson..
This friend is one of the reasons that Son #1 is named what he's named. She was responsible for setting Jim and me up for our first date.

She fought breast cancer very, very hard over 10 years ago.
And she beat it.
And remained cancer-free for enough years to be called "well".
Almost.
She was just months shy of that magical 10 year mark when she found out that it was back.
With a vengeance.
And that it would take her life, but hopefully that wouldn't be for some time.
This was a year or so after Jim died.

And now, she's here.
Fighting again.
And I cried when life slapped me with that.
Fortunately the friend who told me was also able to give me her cell number (thank you, H!). I emailed, texted and called, not knowing if she'd get the message at all, or if her husband would, or if it was too late to send a message.

A few hours later my cell phone beeped with a text message.
From her.
And I cried again ... with relief.
I had begged to come see her and she said yes. But I have to wait. She is going to have her lungs drained tonight, and is not able to talk.
She said she'd love to see me and will let me know when she's stable and can talk again.

I told her that I am praying.
And she said thank you .... and that she needs prayers, very badly.

And so I return to you, my Peeps, and beg you to join me in praying for her, her husband and their children.
I don't know if I'll be able to see her before I head to St. Louis for the transplant (I leave Wed and the surgeries will be on Thursday morning). But I hope to be able to see her after I get back on Saturday.

So I'm asking you for a lot of prayers this week.
For V, her son G and her husband R, as R's kidney is placed into his son's body.

And for my dear friend S, who's fighting for her life.

This all puts my achey joints at the bottom of any list. And makes me feel ashamed for even complaining about them and the lack of reief I'm getting from the new meds (which thankfully aren't making me sick at all).

I am blessed.
I love my children.
I love my family.
I love my friends, both old and new .... married and widowed.
And for each of you, who are not just Peeps, but are friends .... and loved ones.

Thank you, again.
And again and again.
You mean more to me than you will ever know.
You ... bless me.
Very, very much.

Thanks, Peeps, and happy Tuesday.
:)



*in real life
**the word "out" is used by widowed people to indicate how long ago their partner died. No one is ever told this,or taught it, it just seems to become part of your vocabulary when your widowed. Kind of strange, but interesting.

3 comments:

Beth said...

Janine, yes Camp Widow, my first, was amazing. I was happy to meet you even tho it was only for brief moment. And yes; you provided much needed laughter during your New Camper workshop; I don't know the last time I laughed for so long and so hard - so thank you for that.
So sorry you have to come home to such news about your friend. Will keep her and her family in my prayers, as well as your friend whose child is awaiting the transplant. And of course for you for your joint pain.
Thanks again for helping so many of us widows through our journies

Chris said...

Janine,

I'm not a peep who comments often, in fact, had you not told me specifically that I am a peep instead of a lurker I wouldn't even classify myself that way because of my truly horrible infrequency at commenting.

But for weeks now as I've settle in from a 1000 mile move back home to California (during which time I missed a few of your posts and had to get caught up as I went through the most stressful move/escrow/house selling experience of my life) by the time I got caught up I didn't know what to say. Or if it was too late. Well, one thing I think we'd agree on for different reasons is it's never too late to tell someone you care and are thinking of them. A person can't have too much support, or too many good thoughts.

Your posts and your eating disorder hit me to the very core. You are so brave, so strong to talk to us, and so courageous to admit it. My bulimia started as a side effect of medication when I was 18. I've never told anyone. I've never so much as written the words. There's of course so much more to the story, but I wanted to stand there, proudly as one of your peeps, full of support and love and understanding. And mostly, just is awe that you were able to say it.

You continue to amaze, and I'm honored to be considered more than a lurker.

I'll be keeping your friends in my thoughts this week-my best on the transplant and your friend at MD Anderson.

With much admiration,

Chris

mel said...

I was so looking forward to seeing you! I love that we got to be a part of each other's weekend highlights.

I saw you out on your walk, too... while I was getting mine :)

xoxo

PS. Many thanks for all of your volunteer organizing - the girls in brown were awesome!