It's been one year and 15 days since Wayne's body stopped. Just stopped. His body was alive one minute, and not the next. May 20th, 2012. A week before this was Mother's day, May 13th. The day before that was Saturday. And the hospice team came to meet Wayne, me and our two daughters. They, by some miracle were both home. They were with their Dad his last day home, ever.
Saturday evening Wayne started failing. He was anxious. He was uncomfortable. He was in pain. He'd developed a nose bleed which was uncontrollable by 3:00AM. He said, "I want to go to the hospital".
We'd known that the prostate cancer had spread to his bones 2 years prior. Then it spread to his brain. He'd had surgeries and radiation to bone and brain. Two years of practically living in the hospital. Two years of hope intertwined with hell. Two years of the two of us going to sleep in our comfy bed, and deciding in the middle of the night that something was very wrong. The midnight runs to the hospital, Memorial Sloan Kettering, which was an hour away.
So, why do I have inertia? I made important decisions every day while Wayne was alive. Medications, Doctor appointments, insurance, financial, and household issues. Everything.
So why can I now do nothing? What's wrong with me?
I was "Superwoman" when he was alive.
Where is "Superwoman" now? Where?