after the end

I’m back.  I’m back in so many ways.   I started blogging ten years ago as a method of coping with a new situation, my diagnosis of chronic leukemia.  Been a long crazy road, picked up a few readers, made a few jokes, shared when I though doing so would go beyond narcissism  and platitudes.  And then life returned. And then it didn’t.  My life has entered a new bizarre phase,  I hope I can write about it without relapsing in maudlin cliche.   I learned along the way we all suffer, that my misery, while odd, is part of the human existence .
       Things changed. I was working part time, but feeling weaker. I started losing weight. My leukemia is gone, but its ghost , GVHD lingers, stiffening my  skin, choking my breathing.
And then, crisis.
Marriage, as I know it,  has had clear stages.  You meet, you fall in love, you may have kids. You may divorce.  If you hang around  long enough,  on one inevitable day, if you’re lucky, you say goodbye.  I said goodbye to Cyn a few weeks back. Despite all  we’ve been through there was always the expectations that there would be an afterwards, time to reflect and heal.
I said goodbye to Cyn the other day.
Hospital. Pneumonia. Unbeknownst to me, I was retaining CO2. I was suffocating but in no distress.
I remember little. I remember driving to the hospital, telling Cyn I was ready to die, life has become low level discomfort punctuated  by hospital visits every few months. I was ready to go
I remember Cyn’s crying face “they want to intubate you. I told them no, what do you think?” Odd bitter irony! The one moment you need to make the ultimate existential decision is when you are confused, tired.  “I want more time” I said, stalling to see what came next. My next thought was how much I’d miss her , but of course, I wouldn’t miss her at all. Cyn turned to the intern "he is DNR. DNI." “Well  you’ll need to put it in writing” the intern said. On reflection  how odd. You’d think the house staff would welcome avoiding the complications of putting someone on a ventilator . “ Fine” Cyn said. Ted ,my oncologist ,called  annoyed . “ This is not fatal, this is reversible” he told her. Once again, amusement on my part.  He has no way of knowing my current quality of life.  Who is this pisher making life decisions for me?
Cyn holds firm. She says goodbye.  to me. She is exhausted. I flash back on the death bed scene from Love Story  when Ollie gets into Jenny’s hospital bed and she dies in his  arms .  I was a tangle of tubes and wires, it would have been impossible.  I remember putting our cat to sleep. The Vet had a “bye room”, furnished  like a hotel room where one holds ones pet  as the pentathol flows. Clearly American hospitals need bye rooms.
Cyn leaves.  I lose consciousness peacefully. I am warm, I am loved, I will be missed, but Cyn will be OK.
And then. And then. I’m in a hospital room and the house staff is poking me.” Dr Weinreb, Dr Weinreb.   Where are you?  “Hospital”. Why is this a special day? “Because the patriots just won the superbowl ”. ( no kidding). I must admit, I was a little annoyed at being woken from eternal tranquillity to be quizzed on sports trivia.

It’s two weeks later.  Life feels differently. I feel as if I died and the afterlife bears amazing similarity to the one I just left. Cyn is so tired and has full blown PTSD.
What have I learned? DOCUMENT YOUR DNR orders.  I have learned to be wildly excited by simple stuff. I walked 3/4 mile yesterday without oxygen and felt as if I had just run and won a marathon.
The hardest part of the afterlife is letting hope back in. I need to hope that perhaps I could..,..return to work.....maybe take a trip. Otherwise life. Is just cans of ensure and constant frantic motion.
I have much to say. Will say more tomorrow.