To you who are in the fight, to your spouse, your families, and your significant others, I think of you. When the walk seems insurmountable, I think of you for I also walked in those shoes.
He stared at me through drugged eyes, yet he looked right through me. He seemed to have disappeared deep inside himself.
I sat beside his bed and read. He rarely speaks only to ask me to fix his pillows. He was irritable with me. I asked myself why.
I’m exhausted and can’t understand it. When he told me the pain was excruciating, I took back the I am exhausted.
The IV morphine flow dripped balm into his body. In his hand, he held the extra morphine painkilling button. He pressed it often.
I touched him. He said, please don’t touch me. It creates more pain. I ached for him.
If esophageal cancer possessed the capability to write the laws of physical chaos on a body ravaged by months of chemotherapy, radiation therapy, and radical esophagectomy surgery, his once healthy athletic body was the classic model.
What he murmured said it all. “I am an organized train wreck!“Werner
I watched my husband suffer and couldn’t ignore my emotional rollercoaster. I was the by-stander. I couldn’t relieve his pain. I sat, quiet. When he needed something, anything I waited.
When his nurses arrived, I walked to the hospital chapel where tears flowed and God handled my emotions and heard me raise my husband up in prayer.
A PRAYER FOR CAREGIVERS AND BYSTANDER’S. HE IS A HIDING PLACE WHENEVER YOU FEEL HELPLESS AND AFRAID. HE IS THE REFUGE AND STRENGTH TO CALM ROLLERCOASTER EMOTIONS AND A FORTRESS AGAINST DESPAIR.