Big, this week is big
It is soooooo great to have Heidi here. She continually amazes me. She is fearless, brilliant, incredible!
But historically, this week is not a happy one. I'm reliving 2009 in my mind. It started out well:
Sunday the 4th: Drew and I were married. Andy felt sick.
Monday the 5th: he felt sick still but refused to take any aspirin
Tuesday the 6th: Drew and I flew to the Caribbean for our honeymoon, Andy flew to his home and job in Oakland CA.
Wednesday the 7th: we're all in our places
Thursday the 8th: Andy goes to work at the cafe' and can't see or talk right. A friend rushes him to the ER. CT scan, MRI: large mass in brain. Friend calls Andy's brother Byron, also in Oakland (thank god), who calls his father Larry, in Maine. Larry calls us.
Friday the 9th: we start working on how and when to get to CA from the Caribbean... Andy is seen by a neuro-surgeon who schedules him for surgery on Tuesday the 13th.
Sat & Sun: Andy is at Byron and Caitlin's apt... stunned, terrified, on meds... Larry goes to CA. I spoke with Andy on the phone and said I would be there when he woke up... and to remember that at first everything would be different but even if he couldn't talk or walk to remember we would love him and help him and probably he would get better. I also asked Byron to download a Medical Power of Attorney form and have Andy sign it, which he did. (This turned out to be a very good thing to have over the following 17 months.)
Monday the 12th: we take off for Maine. The plan is to spend one night, re-pack, and both fly to CA. I 'explain' to Drew why it IS a good idea for him to come too. Andy has his pre-admit meeting with the hospital and sets up MediCal, the free care... he is essentially homeless and destitute.
Tuesday the 13th: he goes into surgery in the morning, with our hearts on the table too. We fly from Maine to California. As soon as we touched down, I called Larry and he said, 'it's not good, Sarah. It's something called Glioblastoma. He's in ICU... I'll see you when you get here.' I called my sister in Boston and said please google this. She called me back and said, 'It's not good, Sarah.' She read me the whole thing. Poor poor Andy. For no good reason, this wrecking ball of a disease, in his beautiful head.
Nuff said. Sometimes if I start to think about that night and the post-op nightmare, the inadequacies of that ghetto hospital, I get stuck in a very dark place. I am not going there right now. My therapist helped me with the mantra: "It's over. He doesn't remember it. I am never going back there." A million times later, still true: It's over. He doesn't remember it. I am never going back there. And......... even though it doesn't make it fair or right...... he is at peace.
xoxoxo Sarah
But historically, this week is not a happy one. I'm reliving 2009 in my mind. It started out well:
Sunday the 4th: Drew and I were married. Andy felt sick.
Monday the 5th: he felt sick still but refused to take any aspirin
Tuesday the 6th: Drew and I flew to the Caribbean for our honeymoon, Andy flew to his home and job in Oakland CA.
Wednesday the 7th: we're all in our places
Thursday the 8th: Andy goes to work at the cafe' and can't see or talk right. A friend rushes him to the ER. CT scan, MRI: large mass in brain. Friend calls Andy's brother Byron, also in Oakland (thank god), who calls his father Larry, in Maine. Larry calls us.
Friday the 9th: we start working on how and when to get to CA from the Caribbean... Andy is seen by a neuro-surgeon who schedules him for surgery on Tuesday the 13th.
Sat & Sun: Andy is at Byron and Caitlin's apt... stunned, terrified, on meds... Larry goes to CA. I spoke with Andy on the phone and said I would be there when he woke up... and to remember that at first everything would be different but even if he couldn't talk or walk to remember we would love him and help him and probably he would get better. I also asked Byron to download a Medical Power of Attorney form and have Andy sign it, which he did. (This turned out to be a very good thing to have over the following 17 months.)
Monday the 12th: we take off for Maine. The plan is to spend one night, re-pack, and both fly to CA. I 'explain' to Drew why it IS a good idea for him to come too. Andy has his pre-admit meeting with the hospital and sets up MediCal, the free care... he is essentially homeless and destitute.
Tuesday the 13th: he goes into surgery in the morning, with our hearts on the table too. We fly from Maine to California. As soon as we touched down, I called Larry and he said, 'it's not good, Sarah. It's something called Glioblastoma. He's in ICU... I'll see you when you get here.' I called my sister in Boston and said please google this. She called me back and said, 'It's not good, Sarah.' She read me the whole thing. Poor poor Andy. For no good reason, this wrecking ball of a disease, in his beautiful head.
Nuff said. Sometimes if I start to think about that night and the post-op nightmare, the inadequacies of that ghetto hospital, I get stuck in a very dark place. I am not going there right now. My therapist helped me with the mantra: "It's over. He doesn't remember it. I am never going back there." A million times later, still true: It's over. He doesn't remember it. I am never going back there. And......... even though it doesn't make it fair or right...... he is at peace.
xoxoxo Sarah
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