Not much time left.

I have lots of stories, some sad, some inspiring, some desperately depressing. All in the last week or so. 

Yesterday I rode to Caddo and back for a distance of 24 miles in two hours. That is a good time for a mountain bike. I am able to ride up all the hills on the route using only the high range #3 sprocket on the front. The first time I had to get off and push the bike up those hills. So my training is working well for power and speed. Now I need to lengthen my course each day to increase my endurance. I am still a long way from the 47 mile course I want to tackle on tour day. 

Today I went to the Guardian Hospice Annual Butterfly release party in Sherman, Texas. Last year I took Carolyn and we both enjoyed watching the butterflies flit away as the little envelopes were opened on cue. The meaning was left purposefully vague, I thought, and was inspiring no matter what your religious beliefs.

They could symbolize souls leaving for heaven, or a change in life’s path like metamorphosis, or just a relief from the boundaries we all live with in this life. The language was mostly Christian, but the butterfly release was a wonderful representation of the end of life that is the purpose of the whole hospice concept. 

I don’t know how I would have survived the past couple of years without the help and love shown us by Guardian Hospice. The physical equipment (hospital bed, wheelchair, etc.) was indispensable, but the personal attention and love is the best part. This has proven to be a long, lonely pathway, and the professional counselors, nurses, aides, and therapists are the real core of what hospice is all about.

This year Carolyn could not be there. I had hoped to take her in her wheelchair, but she is too frail now to consider it. Just the bother of taking her to parties in the front lobby wears her out in a few minutes, and she wants to go back to her room.

She has eaten almost no solid food for days. Friday we were delighted when she ate half a strawberry. She is losing weight rapidly, and most of her pants now fall off if I stand her up, even though I bought them with elastic waistbands. Today she drank about half a small Dixie cup of water, with lots of coughing and choking because her throat muscles are no longer synchronized properly by her deteriorating neurological system.

My bicycle training will be on hold for a few days. I know she will be gone soon, and I want to be there if possible. The conflict between wanting her suffering to stop, and fearing the loss when she leaves has me just about crazy. 

Our daughter Darlene has been a huge help to me, but she is feeling the stress, also. She has had to deal with a bipolar disorder, and she tells me she needs to see a psychiatrist soon. I will call around to see what is available in the area. Maybe Guardian Hospice knows of one? I’ll call Monday and check it out.

I have been meaning to go make arrangements at the funeral home, but I can’t quite get off my duff and get it done. I dread the thought of trying to talk and not break down. When I cry I get choked up and no sound comes out. Maybe that’s why I write instead.

Maybe they will have a menu, and I can just point and nod my head.