To love deeply...

We've said our goodbyes just in case.  We've had to, several times.  It sucks.  There have been times I've felt like Mark has had one foot in each world.  It is surreal.  Last night Mark and I sat in our living room with only the light of the fireplace, and the moon.  We had one of our powerful talks.  Although we are home, and Mark is better in some ways, he is worsening in other ways.  We took inventory of all of the pains that don't subside, there are about 12 issues.  My sarcoma sisters (my close friends Holly and Stephanie who lost their precious husbands to sarcoma cancer) say that pleural effusion is par for the course.  This is what I found in my hours and hours of research;


 Pleural effusions from a malignancy for which there is no effective treatment portends a poor prognosis. Median survival for patients with an effusion due to metastatic cancer averages 3 months. Drainage alone improves comfort, but does not affect survival.

In our talk last night we discussed the value and the mercy of having this time together.  Even the practice in letting go has served a purpose of exercising faith and experiencing comfort beyond my strength (a beautiful gift!).  He counseled me in my grief, that sadness is a good thing and a part of acceptance.  I expressed to him that I don't believe I'll ever really accept the loss, but learn to live with it, which isn't the same thing.  From what I'm hearing from several friends who have lost spouses (I'm surprised how many friends I have that experienced this, I am humbled by your examples) I will always have a part of me that grieves; can get angry about it, fearful, and profoundly sad and there is no end.  I feel that deep within me.  To love as deeply as I love Mark will obviously affect me when I ache for that part of me to be filled by his energy. 

Our plan for now is for Mark to rest up, do some computer work from home and we'll return to Huntsman next week to drain the fluid again.  He isn't doing as well as I thought he would after having so much fluid removed.  One day at a time, we'll keep on keeping on.

On our way to the Huntsman I heard a favorite song of mine by Nichole Nordeman, she sang, "Thank you Jesus, even when the pieces of my life are broken and small, dreams shattered, and scattered like the wind....thank you even then".  I do feel this way.  We turn our lives over to our Lord and trust in his plan and his love.